Growing up as an only child in rural Oklahoma in the 1960’s, I was into everything I could stick my nose in. Building forts, climbing trees and playing “cowboys and Indians” provided a little burr-headed terror like me with his daily existence. To say that I quickly became hardheaded and independent would be an understatement. No amount of advice (or threats) from my parents could deter me from my quest for self-inflicted adventure. Cuts, broken bones and countless scars awaited me at every turn. I was one hammerhead that was well on his way to becoming a full-fledged life member of the school of hard knocks.

Fast-forward about 40 years and you have a middle-aged boy who is still learning things predominantly the hard way, and so it is in my life as an archery hunter. Sometimes my escapades are funny, and at other times, my boners make me scream and throw fits--whether they are from anger, pain, or both. Nowadays, I don’t make nearly as many mistakes out of naivety, but instead, most of my hard lessons come from doing things I know I shouldn’t do. Yeah, you know what I mean.

In the following lines, please allow me to relate a few of my countless “learning experiences” to you while attending the school of hard knocks. These stories will surely make you realize that I certainly must be one tough fellow, because you gotta be tough, if you’re gonna be stupid!

Hang In There
I’d made my mind up that I was going to bow-kill a big buck this particular year. I had a Kansas tag in my pocket and I had access to some ground that certainly harbored some great bucks. I’d scouted intensely during the off-season and had prepared numerous tree stand locations that rutting bucks would be passing on a regular basis. Now, all I needed to do was to hunt hard and smart, while passing opportunities on numerous bucks that were sure to test my mettle.

By mid-November, everything was going as planned. I’d been in the field every day for two weeks, the rut was cranking and I’d passed up many nice bucks. There were some large rubs in the area that I was hunting and I’d seen their maker a couple of times--a 160-class buck. It seemed only a matter of time until I’d get my chance at this bruiser. Taking a lunch with me each day, I remained on stand all day long.

On November the 20th, I’d been in my tree for more than six hours by noon. The sun was out and it was a pleasantly warm day. Having eaten my lunch previously, I soaked-up some rays. Shortly, I began to nod off, almost falling out of my tree stand a couple of times. With resolve waning, I contemplated getting down and napping for a short period while under my tree stand. Knowing better, I was determined to stay put.

At 1 p.m., I simply couldn’t take it any more. I had to have a short nap. Climbing quietly down, I sprawled at the base of my tree and was out like a light. The next thing I remember was being awakened by a nearby sound. Gaining my senses, I slowly raised my head and peered around my location. Yep, you guessed it! Walking by at a mere 20 yards was the buck that I’d been waiting for! With my bow hanging on a limb 20 feet above me, there was nothing I could do but watch as the monster quickly strode away.