Tom Petty was maxed out as we exited I-70 for a quick pit stop at Johnny Morris’s shop- or as Jeff Hawk calls it, “Pro Bass.” Appropriately timed, the song Refugee was aimed at Schned’s misfortune as he discovered that his passport was forgotten somewhere at the St. Louis airport. (He’d get his hands on it only a couple of days later, as the airline promptly returned it to him).
It never fails. As if God Himself intended for a buddy’s unfortunate or poorly timed circumstance to be front and center in serving two purposes:
1. Create stronger bonds.
2. Develop thick skin.
Both characteristics fit perfectly, somewhere in between the ol’ woodstove and the kitchen sink at deer camp. Which is where we were headed. Straight to Laden’s place for some 4th quarter magic. It was January, in Missouri, on the only farm with standing beans for a half mile. If you deer hunt, you know that the only thing you need now to make this world-class is a hot coffee before you head out and a cold beer when you wrap up.
The first sit was warmer than it should have been, thanks to the blinds we were sitting in and the Hot Hands stuffed in our pockets. The snow started coming down about an hour in, and it didn’t stop. In fact, it didn’t stop until the next morning and came back with a vengeance the very next evening. The timing couldn’t have worked out any better, because both evenings we saw a pile of deer. A couple of nice bucks were on the field, but Schned was determined to lace the ribs on a Show-Me State 11-point that kept showing up on cam. And show up he did. About 150 yards out of range. Didn’t matter much though, as the plan was confirmed for the next sit: get in the blind closer to the tree line on the southeast corner. Fast forward 24 hours, and that ol’ boy came strolling out of the timber, step-for-step in the same set of tracks he used the day prior. It wouldn’t take long now; just wait for the right shot, settle in, pull back the hammer, and…KER-POW! Cue the Creed and the shop pops, boys; that buck is headed for the truck bed.
Cold hands, big smiles, lots of laughs, and another story for the wall.
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