By Stoney Harcastle
The following is how a young city-dwelling friend of mine described his first deer hunt:
Sound asleep, 1 a.m. alarm clock sounds. Hunting buddies arrive. Drag me out of bed. Load everything but kitchen sink in pickup with camper.
Leave for deep woods in Kiamichi Mountains near Honobia. Brought beer, but forgot rifle. Have to turn around and go back. Then have to stick pedal to metal to get to mountains before daylight. Made camp but forgot directions to set up tent; finally got it tied between two trees.
Head into woods, gun ready. See four big bucks. Take aim. Then click. Forgot to load gun. Watch deer wander off while I try to cram shells into gun. Nervous, drop shells.
Cussing my luck, head back for camp. Can’t find camp, lost. Fire gun three times for help. Hungry, eat wild grapes. Fire gun again, still no help. Keep firing, run out of ammo. See four bucks again. Stomach starts to boil! Suddenly realize had eaten poke berries instead of grapes. Puke. Buddies finally found me. Rushed me to hospital to pump out stomach.
While gone wild hogs tear up camp. Eat all groceries except potted meat. Eat potted meat for supper. No crackers, hogs ate them. Go to bed. Can’t sleep. Laid sleeping bag on rock. About midnight wind comes up. Blows tent down.
Get up early, beer and potted meat for breakfast. Load gun and head back into woods. See no deer. Get sprayed by skunk. Head back to camp. Burn clothes. Hear noise. Excitement rises. There are those four big bucks grazing close to camp. Grab gun. Heart jumping. Take dead aim. Squeeze trigger. Gun kicks. Dead — one pickup truck.
Hunting buddy returns to camp dragging a huge buck. He was grinning wide. Had to repress urge to shoot the dude. Cut hand helping skin buck. Got mad. Take pickup, leave buddy and his prize buck in woods — “smart aleck.”
Pickup boils over. Had shot hole in radiator. Start walking. Slip and fall in mud. Meet black bear. Scared stiff. Take aim, fire. Gun barrel stopped-up with mud, blows end off barrel. Recoil knocks me down. Bear gets scared and runs.
Catch ride. Home at last. Told wife pickup broke down. Watch football game on TV while tearing up hunting license. Mail pieces to fish and game department, tell them where to stick deer license. Deer hunting done.
Stoney Hardcastle is a novelist and retired from teaching creative writing at Eastern Oklahoma State College. He lives in Wilburton.
