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LOWER HOWARD LAKE SPORTSMAN'S ASSOCIATION

DEER HUNTING 2012



Our shack was too darn cozy,

with wood heat and DVD.

It was hard to get out hunting,

and to climb up in a tree.

With Jimmer's big doe hanging,

some guys stayed in the bunk.

The pressure was relieved,

this year we'd not be skunked.


Three deer were taken,

in this season twenty-nine.

The weather was just perfect,

the company was fine.

The poker, food and drinking,

were as good as I recall.

It was a damn good hunting season,

but not the best one overall.


The guy who we call Kujo,

is a master of the forest.

If you cannot find a wounded deer,

he will find it for us.


As was the case with our second deer,

if it wasn't for the Kooge.

A deer would be lost to rot in the woods,

we'd not have three this year.


And a fellow we call Shitbird,

has 100 years bad luck.

For shooting dead a unicorn,

a single antlered buck!!

He tried to drag it by himself,

he said he almost died.

And then along came Mr. Spooky,

and they dragged it side by side.


On the last day of the season,

the hunting's put on hold.

Cuz we have to drag in deer stands,

this chore is getting old!

The Forest Service thinks it's great,

to use a metal tree.




But those goddamn things are dangerous.

If you're asking me.


Why are they so stingy,

and charge us all those fees.

When they can decimate the forest,

to sell off all the trees?


I now digress to change the subject,

to someone we all cherish.

And to honor a guy we all be-love,

before that man should perish.


He's getting old and paunchy,

and his hair is falling fast.

He sits around the deer shack,

telling stories from the past.


Of the great buck he once took,

with a single rifle round.

Of how the buck snuck up on him,

never making any sound.


Oh sure he likes to brag,

to impress the younger guys.

Who should be out there hunting,

but rather listen to his lies.


Let me tell you something,

about a man who we call Dad.

He's there to make new memories,

and to share the fun he's had.


My Dad is not here with us,

to hug his barrel chest.


But I still recall his favorite saying:


"That's The Way It Happened"

"Going West"


By Jim Larson