Down in Shrew Vally by old Armstrong Creek Sits a little log cabin with wood floors that squeak. In the evening the soft glow of gas lights are there while outside there are whitetails,gray wolves and black bear. Up on the oak ridge the acorns are falling. the bucks they are grunting, the does they are calling So we slip in our stand and we wait for a buck if the wind is just right all we'll need is some luck. Now come hang up your buck on our deer hanging rail then sit by the fire and tell us your tale For the stories of hunting is why we come here to hear the stories and to hunt for the great Whitetail deer
Originally posted by Killdeer: Now, about those deer. Their eyes are closed. How did you do that, you shoot them in their sleep? Sew them shut like the seeled eyes of Berkut Golden Eagles? Sew them shut like the headshrinkers of old? My deer hang around wide-eyed, gathering data from the words and workings of their killers, to pass on as spirit-lore to their kin still roaming the hills. Nothing can escape their eternal gazes, and over many years their intelligence-gathering has led to a dire waning of my prowess as a hunter. I will, should I become lucky enough to kill more deer, start blindfolding them after hanging, and only allow pig Latin to be spoken in my camp.Killdeer
Originally posted by awbowman: Ray, spring for some Crown XR or Crown Reserve instead of the Basil, you'll thank me.