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When all else Fails

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    After a long and stressful week, the middle aged married couple finally drop the kids off at the sitters and head out to Red Lobster for a night together on the town. Between the garlic bread for appetizers, and the breaded shrimp, it becomes ever more apparent to the Mrs. that her husband is distracted with his own thoughts.  So much so, in fact, that he has barely spoken a word all night to her, and his answers are abrupt and to the point.  Why, he hasn’t even noticed the nice dress she bought for this special occasion.  By the evening’s end, the Mrs. is convinced she has lost him completely, and that there is surely another in his life.  She can’t help but wonder where she went wrong.  Was it that time when he came home and dinner wasn’t waiting on the table for him?  Was it because she spent a little too much money at that last garage sale?

     She lies in bed feeling him tossing and turning as his tortured soul finally falls into a light sleep.  Well when all else fails, there is always the trusted old Journal to tell the sad tale.  Frantic as to know the real truth behind this devastating turn of events,  she turns to his trusted old journal.  There on the last updated page she finds these 5 incriminating words written in scribbled ink. “Missed the big Buck Today!”

     And now for the second portion of this story:
  This was me and my woman’s story until….
I had seen this buck, and missed this buck Sunday morning and again Sunday evening (Just before above mentioned Red Lobster Dinner) I knew he was big, but forced myself to focus on the shot I was making instead of the antlers.  After all, I have a lot of time to look at them once they are hanging on my wall, right?  I got one quick shot Sunday morning at 125 yards as he leaped back into the woods, but knew I had missed him.  I took the second running shot free-handed Sunday night because he would not stop even when I yelled at him at 325 yards. I knew I hit him on that shot, but was unable to find blood anywhere. I searched for him most of Tuesday morning and finally gave up.

     Wednesday I went back out with the approach that I would hunt until about 9:00 and take one more quick walk through the woods where he ran after my Sunday evening shot.  At 8:45 a.m. I was watching a doe to the west and had my gun on her waiting for papa to step out behind her, and as I looked over my shoulder to the east, there he stood, not 80 yards away, broadside to me, Nothing but massive horns swaying above the waist high grass, smelling the doe-in-heat scent I had sprayed on the ground there. I was shaking all over as I laid my gun down on the round hay bale and muttered under my breath, “Say hello to my little friend!”  He ran 60 yards, and then decided to turn the breeding over to lesser bucks.  His main beam is 26 1/2″ long, longest point 13″, 22 1/2″ spread outside to outside, and his horns come close enough together in front that your finger won’t fit in between. He scored a whopping 176 4/8″. 

     A successful hunting season, to say the least, and when I walked up to him he had a bullet hole that went through his chest from the front and came out behind his shoulder blade from the shot Sunday night and even wounded was still horny enough to be chasing Does.  The moral to this story is that when all else fails, take a lesson from this buck and when you get hit and hurt, don’t let this deter you from tailing the Does!!!  You just may get strung up on a wall for some guy’s souvenir!
P.S. Why is it that as I write this story, I keep in my mind comparing this buck to Brett Favre??  Playing hurt, Finally getting caught chasing the Does, getting replaced by a younger buck, and finally hanging it up on a wall.

Until next time….
MOSE KNOWS!

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