Campfire Collection of Cowpoke Poetry

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Deer Hunting in Nebraska

I Never Should Have Allowed Trixie to Tag Along

 It was last October when my hunting partner, Will and I were making plans to drive to Nebraska and hunt deer. We always enjoyed the long drive from East Tennessee because it was about the only time we could act like kids again. You know, we did not have to be prim and proper like when our wives were along. Basically, we could fart inside the truck and not have to be called out or nothin'.

About ten days before we were to head out, Trixie comes to me and says she is going along! I asked her, "Why would you want to hunt? You could care less about shooting a deer, and 'sides, you don't know one end of a weapon from another.!"

"I don't care what you say, I'm going with you and Will."

"Why does she want to go? What's going on? You know we won't be able to do the 'Pull my finger trick'!" Will said when I told him.

"I know, I know," I responded. "I don't want her anymore than you. But she's going."

It was a long, quiet and odorless trip all the way out to the middle of Nebraska. We finished our cucumber sandwiches and deviled eggs, but there was no gaseous relief - if ya know what I mean! Once when I was driving and Will was asleep, Trixie and I got into it. We passed a sign that read' LaJuanta 5 Miles'.

Trixie says, "Look LaJUNE-TA 5 miles."

I about drove into the ditch! I reminded her it was pronounced 'La-Whoon-Ta'. I said, "Why you even know how to read and speak Spanish. I can't believe you said that."

"Well, you are wrong and I am right. This case is closed!" She remarks.

We needed gas anyway, and I decided to pull into one of those stations that has a restaurant connected to it. I figured Will needed to walk off a little abdominal discomfort. After filling up the pick-up, I told Trixie to follow me. We went into the restaurant and walked right up to the counter. I said, "Miss, would you very slowly and very distinctly tell my wife where we are?"

The little gal behind the counter says slowly, "BUR-GER KING!"

We called the argument a draw. It was several hours later and Will was driving my truck as we pulled into Burt's place. Burt is the nice fella who always let us hunt on his land. They stayed in the truck while I went in to tell Burt we were here, and to thank him again for his kindness. I fetched a bottle of Buffalo Trace bourbon and a smoked ham from the back of the truck. We always did give him a little something from our part of the country.

I walked in and said, "Howdy, Burt! How are ya?"

"Oh, OK, I guess," he said kind of depressed like.

"What's the matter?"

"Awe, it's my mule, Bessie. She's old and sick and I just don't have the heart to put her down," He replied while just looking at his kitchen table.

"Why, I'll put her down for ya, Burt! I'll shoot her there in your yard, get a chain from the barn and drag her out of here. You'll never know what happened!" I offered.

"Would Ya? Why that just makes my day! I do appreciate that so much. Let's have a toast to Bessie with this fine Kentucky bourbon you brought!" 

After we swallowed a shot in honor of Bessie, I thanked him again and turned to leave. Going out through the mud-room, an idea hit me. I got into the passenger side of the truck and slammed the door!

"What's wrong with you?" Will asked.

"That old geezer! We drove all the way out here from Tennessee and he won't let us go hunting! Pull the truck up by that mule!" I yelled.

Will pulled the truck up as I rolled down my window and pulled out my pistol! K-BOOM! The sound exploded into the cab, as I killed Bessie. It was overshadowed by Will's pistol. K-BOOOMMM! He turned to me with gun in his hand, blew the smoke away from the barrel's tip and said, "I got his milk cow too!"

It was some two hours later when I got Trixie placed in her tree stand. I told her that 'if' she shot a deer to then fire three times and I would come a runnin'. I was to be just two hundred yards away in a draw. I wasn't fifty yards away and heard, 'Pow, Pow, Pow, Pow!"

I went running up and there was a cowboy standing beneath her tree stand with his arms in the air. She was excited and jumping left and right with her weapon pointed down below at the cowboy.

Then I heard the cowboy say, "Yes, Ma'am, I knows that's your deer. Just let me get my saddle off it and I'll be on my way!"

We don't do anymore deer hunting in Nebraska?

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