...well pete made it to that oak ridge by canoe and placed his stand carefully. the wind was from the north west....brisk enough to make goosebumps come out on your neck but steady enough to keep from swirling. a few does filtered around the edges looking for browse as the sun warmed them in their winter coats....and the hunter waited, thinking of the history and stories before him by old Joe.
Suddenly a large body was drifting through the trees like a ghost...stopping and starting not making a sound even though the ground was still frosty and the leaves were dry. Suddenly there he was at 8 yards, looking back on his trail from where he came....totally oblivious to the presence of pete and his intentions for the moment.
Pete placed tension on the string, focusing on a tuft of hair that was white against a background of tawny brown....his vision became narrow and concentrated as he reached full draw. Suddenly he heard laughter...and the buck was gone. He let down the bow...
who was that? there it was again, more laughter...or was it the wind?
then he smiled...>old Joe was punishing him for sharing his journey and not abiding by the golden rules of story telling (THIS STORY IS WORTHLESS WITHOUT PICS)
so old Joe laughted and busted him on his deer for keeping us waiting on TradGang for two years without closure!!!!!
:cool:
If this is true it has the potential to be a great read....the historical talks with Joe....visiting the mysterious hunting grounds.....hunting those grounds as promised...and if successful or not, finding old Joe (through center registrations or something..just watch HIPAA laws) and then share the story with old Joe, God willing he is still with us....or his family at the least. Could be a book of itself....or a full story in one of our favorite rags at minimum.