The truth of the matter is, there is only once or twice a year all four of us can get together and hunt. This weekend wasn't a hunting weekend though. This was a fill the feeders and plant the food plots weekend. The plan was to leave out early Saturday morning and be back Saturday afternoon around 5:30. Roughly about the time Steve gets off work so his wife wouldn't get suspicious. Just after the crack of dawn Saturday morning, about 9am local time, we met in town, loaded up in Bill's truck and headed out to Jack's place in central Texas. We took a couple of ATV's and a list of things to accomplish on this day of work. Shortly after arriving, we get the 1940 model Massey Ferguson tractor cranked, get the disk hooked up and head out to tear up some of the hardest soil known to Texas. Jack is the tractor man, there were better operators, but it was his tractor, I was the seed scatterer on my ATV, Bill was the drag man and Steve, well, lets just say Steve was in charge of refreshments. It wasn't long before we had a good chunk of land disked, seeded, and covered at each stand and next on the agenda was filling feeders.
Upon arrival back at the barn, Jack kills the tractor, hops down and begins to marvel and the job he has done disking our food plots. Just as he leans back against the hood of the tractor, Jack sticks his hand out and finds the muffler of Mr. Massey, still red hot and ready for unsuspecting day dreamers. Jack let's out a scream that can only be heard by canine breeds in the area and me and the other two do what any good friends would do in a time of distress. We fell on the ground laughing. Our friend was in pain and we were there to take advantage of it by doing what men do, making fun of the situation. If there's one thing women don't understand about men it's this. Guys will take any and every opportunity to laugh at each others expense. Whether it's pain, stupidity, carelessness, accidents, or all of the above rolled into one. After Jack finds an ice chest and soothes his second degree burns, we walk inside the barn and grab some lunch. After we eat, Jack finds some gloves to wear, I'm thinking why bother now but that's just me. As we load up our corn trailer we hear a squeaking sound. Nobody knows for sure what it is or where it's coming from but you can bet, we plan on finding, then exterminating it. Bill and Steve start pulling barrels away from the walls, I'm moving old feeders and unbeknownst to us, Jack is standing directly behind me with a shovel pulled back over his right shoulder just in case he sees movement from something other than us. As soon as something darted out from behind a barrel, Jack was planning on swinging for the fences. The only things that were gonna impede a grand slam swing from the mighty Jacky would be somebodies head, leg, chest or heaven forbid, groin area. Well, lucky for us, once Steve saw Jack winding up, job descriptions began to change. "Jack!! By the time you swing, whatever you're aiming at will be past you! Slowly back away and put down the shovel." Steve said. Potential disaster and another trip to the emergency room temporarily avoided.
Against the wall, Jack had cabinets that reached nearly to the ceiling of his barn. The tops were a good twelve foot above the floor and ended about chest level setting above a work area. The only way to access the top shelves was by ladder, which seemed strange to us. From the top of the cabinets to the ceiling was a one foot gap that made the perfect hiding spot for all things furry. It had to be where the squeaking noises were coming from. Jack, in his ultimate wisdom, grabbed a ladder and headed north. By now you know that Jack isn't lucky when it comes to safety. In fact, there hasn't been a trip we've made where Jack didn't get hurt some how. So when Jack started up the ladder, Steve starting running out to the truck to get a camera. We could have stopped him, him being Steve, not Jack, but when you see an opportunity like this, you make the best of it. This could be our $10,000 AFV moment and we didn't plan on missing it. Jack gets up to the top two steps on the ladder and peeps over the top of the cabinets. "Do you see anything Jack?" asks Bill. "Nothing yet but the noise is coming from up here." Jack replied. "I'm gonna move this little box and see what's behind it." It's at this point that the phrase "Hey y'all, watch this" or "I bet you I can" comes to mind. Famous last words are spoken in situations just like this and Bill and I both knew it. Not only did we know it but it was confirmed that the other knew it when we looked at each other and grinned. "Wait just a second Jack." Bill said. "Why are you stopping him Bill?" I asked, "Because Steve's not back yet with the camera." said Bill, but by now it was too late. As we turned to look back up at Jack, he had reached into the box, then almost immediately after, let out what can only be described as a scream made by wildcats in the night. Something that makes the hairs on your neck stand up then run down your back for cover. A noise that makes all the birds in a one mile radius all fly off in unison. Bill and I watched intensely to see what it was. A rattlesnake? Maybe a possum? We didn't know. Jack's hand came out of the box faster than most eyes can follow. It was like a blur of yellow leather glove that extended a good two feet from start to finish, and when it did finish, Jack started shaking his hand furiously back and forth, but there was something different. Something didn't look just right as we watched Jack up there on the ladder. As we tuned in to the glove we saw it. There was a furry little tail growing out of Jack's hand. A baby squirrel had latched onto Jack's middle finger. This little monster had a vise grip jaw locked down on Jack with no intent on letting go. How something that small could even open it's mouth wide enough around a glove and bite through it was something we could not comprehend. We didn't know what to do. We couldn't climb the ladder, Steve still wasn't back with the camera, so Bill and I just watched. Bill gave me 2-1 odds that Jack would fall before the squirrel but before we could shake on it, Jack grabbed the squirrel with his other hand, letting go of the ladder in the process, and pulled it off his finger. One problem solved and another presented itself. By letting go of the ladder, Jack, who was at the top anyway, became a victim of gravity. Now Bill and I were below him at this point and seeing what's about to unfold, we reach out to try and catch the baby squirrel. Jack, on the other hand, was obviously way to big to catch. Well Jack starts heading south and there's all sorts of junk around the ladder. Barrels, parts, and deer feeders turned legs up. "Squirrel bait" would soon find out that it was a deer feeder leg that would turn him into a Jack-kabob. A small angle iron leg sticking out from a deer feeder would slow Jack's fall to the ground. Matter of fact, it would be that little piece of iron that would keep Jack from hitting the ground all together. At first glance, it looked to us like a direct shot. What we call being corn holed. Rear ended, a poop shot. Jack was just hanging there in mid air resting on top of this one metal leg growing out of his butt. He looked like a corn dog. Like Jack on a stick. Maybe cotton candy or a Jacksicle would be the best way to describe it. After closer inspection though, luckily for Jack, that wasn't the case. The angle iron caught him on the hip. Branded him with a large Nike swoosh on the backside. Something for him to always remember that little squirrel by. The whole episode didn't take more than a minute. Steve had just got back to the barn with the camera when we were pulling Jack off the feeder leg. Missed it all. No documented proof. Just eye witnesses to another weekend of defying death at the deer camp.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Central Texas Deer Hunting, East Texas Style
Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Deer hunting trips by groups of 3 or more take time to plan. You get together, work out times, schedules, lists then stick to the plan. That's how it starts but that's not always how it ends up.
There were four of us, Steve, Bill, Jack and myself. Deer hunting over a weekend, a span of three hunts and nothing was guaranteed. We drove in Friday night, got unpacked, cleaned the wasps and mice from the outhouse and settled in, ready to bag some deer.
Saturday morning went by without much progress and Saturday afternoon was proving to be the same. Bill and I both hunted out of ground blinds surrounded by camo. Steve had a metal tripod stand and Jack, for reasons none of us know to this day, built a tree stand about 20 feet off the ground. A few deer came in, a small buck or two but no shooters. The sunlight was fading and darkness was filling in the holes between the limbs. I had left my stand and had just made it to the meeting place. I was the first one there and it was dark enough now to turn on the flashlight. As the beam of light hit the trees in front of me, I heard the most frightening noise that my ears have let pass. It sounded like a bear growling before an attack. But this was Central Texas, there are no bears here, but it made me begin to wonder. A minute passed and I heard it again. This time it was closer. The hairs on the back of my neck began to tingle. My goosebumps got goosebumps. It was at that instant that I started looking for a tall tree. Steve, hunting about 200 yards away, heard it too. He was so afraid that he wouldn't come down from his stand and Bill was nowhere to be found. I didn't know where Jack was either. He wasn't answering his radio and and out of the four of us, he would be the one most likely to get eaten first. Another minute passed and I heard a third roar but this time I saw a light. It was coming from the same direction as the bear and then Jack came over the radio. "Guys, come get me. I can't walk any further." What? What's going on? Are you hurt? Did the bear get you? "No." Jack said, I'm dizzy and I can't quit throwing up." And then it hit me. That was the bear sound. That was the sound that had me ready to run up a tree. Jack was puking his guts up. After a few seconds of checking myself, and my shorts, I started heading toward Jack. Bill and I both got there about the same time to find Jack on all fours, giving the ants a good shower of bile. Steve was still too afraid to come down from his stand. I looked at Jack and asked what was the matter. "I'm not sure but my head won't stop spinning and I can't stop throwing up.","I got dizzy up in the tree, tried to crawl down but fell the last 9 feet." So now fear turns not to concern but to laughter. Yep, our good friend, who brought us all out to hunt on his place, is so messed up he can't walk and we've get to crack jokes now. So after a few minutes of kicking a guy when he's down, cooler heads prevail and we realize that Jack needs to go to the hospital. Only problem is, we are over a mile from the camp house and now Jack can't walk. So guess who gets to carry puking Jack back to the camp house. Yep, this guy. Now keep in mind, Jack's not small. He'll go 6 foot and weighs in around 2 bills. Probably average size unless you have to carry the guy a mile through the woods but it had to be done. Before long we were back at to the camp house and a trip to the emergency room was next on the agenda.
Because there was a possibility of hurling, we took Jack's truck. Apparently Steve and Bill had got together on the walk up to the camp house and designated me to drive. They were going to follow us to the hospital, after they took a shower and ate supper of course. We were only 15 miles from town but 5 of that was down a bumpy dirt road and it didn't take long to find out that bumpy dirt roads and dizzy guys throwing up don't mix. As soon as we pulled out of the gate Jack started in on me. "You've got to hurry up Tim, I don't know if I'm gonna make it." Don't know if you're gonna make it? Now you're dying on me? So I sped up. "Slow down Tim.""The bumps are making it worse" says Jack. What the heck? I can only do one or the other. "Try reading a magazine or something to take your mind off of it." I said. Well, let's just say that wasn't the best solution but I've never claimed to be a doctor.
We get about a mile down the road and I start hearing a banging noise coming from Jack's truck. I don't want to stop because Jack might die but it gets louder and louder and pretty soon I know that if I don't stop, I might tear up Jack's truck and his wife will never let me hear the end of it if that happens. I pull over and look underneath and somehow, some way, Jack's spare tire near the back of the truck had loosened up and was dragging the ground. How in the world can this happen right now? I'm betting that Steve and Bill had something to do with it. I crawled underneath and took the tire off and threw it in the back, got back in he truck to see that Jack was still alive.
After what seemed to be an eternity, we pull up to the emergency room and I carry Jack inside. We get him checked into a room and the nurse asks me to take a seat in the waiting room. After thirty minutes or so, Bill and Steve show up, cleaned and fed, and take a seat in the the waiting room with me. Before long, Steve leans over and says, "Did you call Jack's wife?" "Geez! I totally forgot." Who wants to give her the bad news?" Bill says. We talked it over for a few minutes and after a quick game of Roshambo, best two out of three, I lose and give her a call. "Kara, this is Tim. Don't be worried but we had to bring Jack to the emergency room." I waited for the nervous, desperate reply of a freaked out wife. "What's wrong with him?" Kara asked. "Well, he's dizzy, throwing up, and can't walk." I replied. "We're not sure but they are checking him out now." What Kara said next will be burned into my brain until the day I die."Well, it's probably just a virus. He'll be alright." she said. My eyes opened up like cannon balls as my mouth hit the floor. Enough to where I heard Steve lean over and say to Bill, "I bet Kara told him to pull the plug." "You think that's all it is Kara?" I asked. "Yeah, he'll be fine." she said. "OK, I'll call you if anything changes" I replied.
I hung up the phone and looked over at Steve and Bill. :"What'd she say Tim?" asked Bill. "She said that it's probably just a virus and he'll be fine.""And we should go back and hunt in the morning".
A couple of hours had past as we hung out in the waiting room, watching TV, tilting the vending machine and waiting for some kind of word when a nurse finally came out and told us we could go back to see him. None of us knew what it was but it had to be serious because of the long wait. We got back to the room and pull the curtain back and there lays Jack looking like death warmed over. He's lost what little color he had in his face and his eyes looked sunken into his head. The only color he had were these big red bumps all over his skin and we begin taking bets on what it was. Cancer was the early favorite followed by measles and then poison sumac. "Bill, we need to call Kara. This doesn't look good." Steve says. Then before any of us could ask how he's doing, Steve peeps over my shoulder and says, "Hey Jack, can I hunt your stand tomorrow " Bill and I hit the floor laughing. What little bit of Jack's eyes are showing roll back in his head. Jack, you alright? Jack moans and looks up at us. "What did they say Jack?" Steve says. Jack can hardly talk. His hand shook badly as he reached for a cup up water. After taking a little sip he whispered, "Vertigo". What did he say? Vertigo? "Isn't that just a balance problem?" I asked. Yes, but they gave me something to help that caused an allergic reaction."said Jack, "That's what has taken so long.""And they're gonna keep me here all night." After a bunch of ribbing and pansy related name calling, the head nurse walks in and politely tells us to keep it quite or she was going to give me a Foley. "I'm not sure what that is but if you're giving it, I don't want it." was the reply. After saying our goodbyes to Jack and reassuring him that Kara was truly concerned, we headed back to the camp house. Sunday morning we hunted, Steve on Jack's stand, then headed home after that. We later found out Jack was transported to Temple later on in the night after having a reaction to another drug, then after spending a day there, somehow made it to his mom's house where he would spend the next week under her care.
Jack's doing better now. Not in the normal sense of the word but considering Jack's proneness to accidents, he's better. That weekend trip of deer hunting would be the catalysis for many accidents and injuries in the future to Jack on our hunting trips to his ranch in Central Texas. I later found out the purpose of a Foley and was glad I shut up when I did.
Deer hunting trips by groups of 3 or more take time to plan. You get together, work out times, schedules, lists then stick to the plan. That's how it starts but that's not always how it ends up.
There were four of us, Steve, Bill, Jack and myself. Deer hunting over a weekend, a span of three hunts and nothing was guaranteed. We drove in Friday night, got unpacked, cleaned the wasps and mice from the outhouse and settled in, ready to bag some deer.
Saturday morning went by without much progress and Saturday afternoon was proving to be the same. Bill and I both hunted out of ground blinds surrounded by camo. Steve had a metal tripod stand and Jack, for reasons none of us know to this day, built a tree stand about 20 feet off the ground. A few deer came in, a small buck or two but no shooters. The sunlight was fading and darkness was filling in the holes between the limbs. I had left my stand and had just made it to the meeting place. I was the first one there and it was dark enough now to turn on the flashlight. As the beam of light hit the trees in front of me, I heard the most frightening noise that my ears have let pass. It sounded like a bear growling before an attack. But this was Central Texas, there are no bears here, but it made me begin to wonder. A minute passed and I heard it again. This time it was closer. The hairs on the back of my neck began to tingle. My goosebumps got goosebumps. It was at that instant that I started looking for a tall tree. Steve, hunting about 200 yards away, heard it too. He was so afraid that he wouldn't come down from his stand and Bill was nowhere to be found. I didn't know where Jack was either. He wasn't answering his radio and and out of the four of us, he would be the one most likely to get eaten first. Another minute passed and I heard a third roar but this time I saw a light. It was coming from the same direction as the bear and then Jack came over the radio. "Guys, come get me. I can't walk any further." What? What's going on? Are you hurt? Did the bear get you? "No." Jack said, I'm dizzy and I can't quit throwing up." And then it hit me. That was the bear sound. That was the sound that had me ready to run up a tree. Jack was puking his guts up. After a few seconds of checking myself, and my shorts, I started heading toward Jack. Bill and I both got there about the same time to find Jack on all fours, giving the ants a good shower of bile. Steve was still too afraid to come down from his stand. I looked at Jack and asked what was the matter. "I'm not sure but my head won't stop spinning and I can't stop throwing up.","I got dizzy up in the tree, tried to crawl down but fell the last 9 feet." So now fear turns not to concern but to laughter. Yep, our good friend, who brought us all out to hunt on his place, is so messed up he can't walk and we've get to crack jokes now. So after a few minutes of kicking a guy when he's down, cooler heads prevail and we realize that Jack needs to go to the hospital. Only problem is, we are over a mile from the camp house and now Jack can't walk. So guess who gets to carry puking Jack back to the camp house. Yep, this guy. Now keep in mind, Jack's not small. He'll go 6 foot and weighs in around 2 bills. Probably average size unless you have to carry the guy a mile through the woods but it had to be done. Before long we were back at to the camp house and a trip to the emergency room was next on the agenda.
Because there was a possibility of hurling, we took Jack's truck. Apparently Steve and Bill had got together on the walk up to the camp house and designated me to drive. They were going to follow us to the hospital, after they took a shower and ate supper of course. We were only 15 miles from town but 5 of that was down a bumpy dirt road and it didn't take long to find out that bumpy dirt roads and dizzy guys throwing up don't mix. As soon as we pulled out of the gate Jack started in on me. "You've got to hurry up Tim, I don't know if I'm gonna make it." Don't know if you're gonna make it? Now you're dying on me? So I sped up. "Slow down Tim.""The bumps are making it worse" says Jack. What the heck? I can only do one or the other. "Try reading a magazine or something to take your mind off of it." I said. Well, let's just say that wasn't the best solution but I've never claimed to be a doctor.
We get about a mile down the road and I start hearing a banging noise coming from Jack's truck. I don't want to stop because Jack might die but it gets louder and louder and pretty soon I know that if I don't stop, I might tear up Jack's truck and his wife will never let me hear the end of it if that happens. I pull over and look underneath and somehow, some way, Jack's spare tire near the back of the truck had loosened up and was dragging the ground. How in the world can this happen right now? I'm betting that Steve and Bill had something to do with it. I crawled underneath and took the tire off and threw it in the back, got back in he truck to see that Jack was still alive.
After what seemed to be an eternity, we pull up to the emergency room and I carry Jack inside. We get him checked into a room and the nurse asks me to take a seat in the waiting room. After thirty minutes or so, Bill and Steve show up, cleaned and fed, and take a seat in the the waiting room with me. Before long, Steve leans over and says, "Did you call Jack's wife?" "Geez! I totally forgot." Who wants to give her the bad news?" Bill says. We talked it over for a few minutes and after a quick game of Roshambo, best two out of three, I lose and give her a call. "Kara, this is Tim. Don't be worried but we had to bring Jack to the emergency room." I waited for the nervous, desperate reply of a freaked out wife. "What's wrong with him?" Kara asked. "Well, he's dizzy, throwing up, and can't walk." I replied. "We're not sure but they are checking him out now." What Kara said next will be burned into my brain until the day I die."Well, it's probably just a virus. He'll be alright." she said. My eyes opened up like cannon balls as my mouth hit the floor. Enough to where I heard Steve lean over and say to Bill, "I bet Kara told him to pull the plug." "You think that's all it is Kara?" I asked. "Yeah, he'll be fine." she said. "OK, I'll call you if anything changes" I replied.
I hung up the phone and looked over at Steve and Bill. :"What'd she say Tim?" asked Bill. "She said that it's probably just a virus and he'll be fine.""And we should go back and hunt in the morning".
A couple of hours had past as we hung out in the waiting room, watching TV, tilting the vending machine and waiting for some kind of word when a nurse finally came out and told us we could go back to see him. None of us knew what it was but it had to be serious because of the long wait. We got back to the room and pull the curtain back and there lays Jack looking like death warmed over. He's lost what little color he had in his face and his eyes looked sunken into his head. The only color he had were these big red bumps all over his skin and we begin taking bets on what it was. Cancer was the early favorite followed by measles and then poison sumac. "Bill, we need to call Kara. This doesn't look good." Steve says. Then before any of us could ask how he's doing, Steve peeps over my shoulder and says, "Hey Jack, can I hunt your stand tomorrow " Bill and I hit the floor laughing. What little bit of Jack's eyes are showing roll back in his head. Jack, you alright? Jack moans and looks up at us. "What did they say Jack?" Steve says. Jack can hardly talk. His hand shook badly as he reached for a cup up water. After taking a little sip he whispered, "Vertigo". What did he say? Vertigo? "Isn't that just a balance problem?" I asked. Yes, but they gave me something to help that caused an allergic reaction."said Jack, "That's what has taken so long.""And they're gonna keep me here all night." After a bunch of ribbing and pansy related name calling, the head nurse walks in and politely tells us to keep it quite or she was going to give me a Foley. "I'm not sure what that is but if you're giving it, I don't want it." was the reply. After saying our goodbyes to Jack and reassuring him that Kara was truly concerned, we headed back to the camp house. Sunday morning we hunted, Steve on Jack's stand, then headed home after that. We later found out Jack was transported to Temple later on in the night after having a reaction to another drug, then after spending a day there, somehow made it to his mom's house where he would spend the next week under her care.
Jack's doing better now. Not in the normal sense of the word but considering Jack's proneness to accidents, he's better. That weekend trip of deer hunting would be the catalysis for many accidents and injuries in the future to Jack on our hunting trips to his ranch in Central Texas. I later found out the purpose of a Foley and was glad I shut up when I did.
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