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I am woman, see me stand
When outside and on the ground,
Range the yardage, pick my pin
It hits its mark and just as fast
Girls who hunt love to be pampered too
But not just the normal candy and flowers will do
Sweet cards and jewelry won’t make me fall,
You’ll impress me more with custom arrows and a grunt call
Compared to dinner prepared over a fire in the crisp night air
A gourmet meal at a crowded restaurant simply fails to compare
We don’t spend holidays and anniversaries in the usual way
We are likely to be in a deer stand on Thanksgiving day
A lavish birthday party on the town is not where I belong
I’d rather be on the lake catching catfish till dawn
Last year my “What I did for Valentines day” blog
Contained mostly details about catchin’ a hog
So what will I be doing this Valentines day?
We’ll be in the woods waiting to hear the dogs bay.
I’m off the ground
I sit so still,
All camo-ed up,
A deer to kill.
I scarcely move.
This tree with eyes,
Then makes the shot
And all because,
As I reflect back on my first several years of deer hunting, it becomes ever clear to me that hunting is indeed a "Waiting Game". I play by the rules. I set a date as to when I will go out clad in full camo, then before sunrise, I find my perch in a tree or my spot in a ground blind and I wait. For an evening hunt, I'm already there "waiting" by afternoon. I wait some more.
I've discovered that deer do not play by the rules, at least not the deer in my neck of the woods. It seems that somebody forgot to tell them of the date I had with them. They have little regard for the words, "Hunting today", that I had written on my calendar, so I sit and wait and wait. Patiently most times, but sometimes after hours of waiting, my mind begins to wander. Not that it's a bad thing, mind you, it gives me time to reflect. I reflect on how cold my feet are, or how I forgot my release, or I wonder if I brought enough toilet paper this time. I did bring some along this time... didn't I?
Sometimes I think about the maturation process of playing The Waiting Game. I believed so strongly my first year of hunting that a nice big buck would just walk right by my stand and stop broadside for me so I could make that perfect text book shot. That's the way it has happened for countless others and I was told it would happen for me. Or should happen. Well, that it maybe could happen. It didn't though. I was so frustrated at the end of my first deer season, that I wrote a poem. Actually, it's a parody of a country song by Bryan White, "Someone Else's Star", that I changed to reflect the gray mood I was in.
~Deer Hunters Lament~
Out here again tonight
This is what I do when I play The Waiting Game, but as the years went by the frustration level began to wane. That's not to say I was unhappy never filling my tag for 6 years, but I began to have more fun out there just playing The Waiting Game.
Tiny Little Snowflakes
The Waiting Game. Every hunter plays it. Sometimes the wait pays off for those who are patient enough to abide by a deer's time schedule. Sometimes we're better people for just playing the game, regardless of any deer in our sights.
Alaska and the Yukon
North Alabama, Mississippi p
and North Georgia
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