Dare to say" big
buck" and even the waitress may eavesdrop on you.
Here in Michigan, almost any diner
will have a deer hunter or two in it, at any given time
of the year. The
same can be said for grouse too, but this is a deer
story.
A lot has been written about the
elusive whitetail, maybe too much. One
thing is certain though, as long as November 15th
is on our calendar I’ll bet my
best wool socks, deer hunting will be a coffee house
issue. I
like my coffee and eggs served with hunting stories and
I have heard some of the best ones this way.
A few deer have been hunted for years,
and even generations. Some have names and live longer
than any biologist could dream. Old
ironsides, ghost, wall hanger and others, escape hunter’s
efforts every year.
In today’s world a good story is
hard to find, too often the stories we hear are of
crime, human rights, and the weather, with the
weather, being worst of all. A
deer hunter enjoys stories; he is a master of telling
how the big one came in. Or at least he knows it
was" just inside the heavy cover."
We are known to sit for hours, waiting
to shoot the buck of our dreams. What
we really do is think about our family and friends, and
our loved ones who have walked on. We think how peaceful
life was a 100 years ago quite often.
Mostly we try and
figure out a way to buy more new gear.
Of course, this
thought comes after the loved ones and friends most of
the time.
I miss a lot of the older hunters I
have known; their stories were better than mine are.
I think they lied
better, having grown up with less. Or
did they just not watch so much TV?
Deer hunters in the coffee shops, talk
of far away places today. Western
Canada, Ohio, Kodiak Island are some of their
destinations, whispered in the diners. Why they are whispered
I don’t know. Most never go, and those listening can’t
afford to travel too far.
The conversation goes up about 150
decibels when they talk of the wall-hanger in their back
forty. They
take great pride in letting everyone know they have a
big buck on the land. Of
course this is coffeehouse talk, horns get bigger as the
pancake pile gets smaller. By
the time most finish eating they leave you with the
impression that all the deer on their 40 have Boone and
Crocket racks.
I know of several people who go to
diners just to listen to the hunting talk.
You can see them
holding a paper up pretending to read it.
Some linger at the
register looking for the pennies they pretend to have.
They are all just too proud to sit and listen, they
sneak the story. Of
course any good storyteller knows when ALL the patrons
are tuned in. How can they not be? The teller is the
loudest voice there.
Even in a strange restaurant I can
tell the storytellers and the owners apart.
The owners always look
worried afraid the patrons may be non-hunters and never
come back. A
good deer hunting storyteller knows this and says they
missed cleanly, sometimes, leaving the non-hunter
assured, the proper seed stock was left.
Oh there is always a swamp so thick,
or ridges so dangerous that not all could even try and
venture to it. Those that do get lost in the middle and
are found half dead the next day. Or at least that’s
how the stories go. I
have hunted in some of the story woods and swamps. Hoot
owls send chills up your back and shadows play tricks on
you. the deer never seem to show themselves either.
I prefer wooded ridges
not to far from a two track, now. Although, they make
for a bland story.
The ballistics of the average bacon
and eggs gun would impress any of the generals in our
armed forces too. Shots
range from 300 yds to the next DMU. They
all hit right where they are aimed every time with out
fail. I
tend to miss at 45 yards on a regular basis; I also
never talk with food in my mouth, so I am safe at the
diner.
I do hope to someday become a great
coffee shop deer hunter. I
first have to travel a bit more and eavesdrop on some
experts more, first. I’ve
got the clothes and the days old stubble down pretty
well. Of course that’s me year round.
I have thought of
making antler handled knives, as a way of explaining,
the lack of racks in the garage. My
buddy is a county dispatcher so getting venison is easy
to do. Road kill wraps up just as nice as any deer shot.
Don’t get me wrong I enjoy hunting,
but a good story is best served the way you want it,
just like your breakfast at the diner.
So," You got a
big twelve- point running back by the old orchard again
this year, Bob? "
"Oh Miss, Could I get a refill?
And I’ll pay for Bobs also." Thanks.
Kirk Howes
