Pennsylvania Game News - December 2013 - 13

had all the tools: a brand new Woolrich outﬁt (this was before wearing
ﬂuorescent orange was mandatory),
insulated boots, wool gloves and a
cap with fur lining that had muffs
that you could pull down over your
ears. His riﬂe was a tool that my
brother and I drooled over. It was a
Winchester Model 70 .30-06 with
a Monte Carlo stock, and had a
Leupold 3-9x variable scope.
My brother and I, on the other
hand, were never that lucky with
our hunting tools and attire. We
went hunting in torn blue jeans, old
World War II ﬁeld jackets handed
down by Dad, thin rubber boots
and worn-out baseball caps. We did
have gloves when the need arose,
but I don't remember my hands ever
being warm. My brother carried an
old Winchester lever action .38-55
that my father bought from an old
farmer down the road for $50 and a
carton of mail pouch. I had a handme-down Winchester .30-30 lever
action. No scopes. My dad used to
say that if you couldn't hit them
with one shot with open sights, you
shouldn't be in the woods. I have
since graduated to a scope, because
my eyes aren't what they used to be.
It was Saturday, the last day of
deer season one year, and the store
was receiving a special delivery
of frozen food. This was rare for
a Saturday, but the truck had to
be unloaded and my brother and
I were elected. This did not put
either one of us in a good mood.
Neither one of us had seen that
big buck that was roaming around
across the road. We had passed up a
few spikes and 4-points, because we
were after that big 12-point we had
DECEMBER 2013

seen periodically all year. When the
trailer ﬁnally arrived that Saturday,
Shorty was driving.
"What are you doing here? It's
the last day of deer season," my
brother yelled to Shorty.
"It was a chance for overtime,
and I already took nearly two weeks
off to hunt and never saw a thing,"
Shorty said.
That was par for the course for
Shorty.
"Well, let's get her unloaded so I
can get in the woods," my brother
said.
Shorty, though, wasn't concerned much with unloading the
truck in a hurry. He was, after all,
getting overtime. So what he did
next ﬂabbergasted us. He opened
his lunch bucket and proceeded
to eat lunch. Well, that was it. My
brother got so mad that he told me
to get my gun. "We're going to the
woods."
"What about the truck?" I asked.
"Don't worry; we'll be back in a
hour when Shorty is done eating."
We kept our rifles behind the
back seat of the truck. That way we
didn't waste any time going home
to get ready to hunt. So I grabbed
my coat, got my gun out of the truck
and met my brother outside. In
passing, though, I heard my brother
say to Shorty, "See you in an hour;
I'm going to go shoot a 12-point."
Shorty didn't know quite what to
say so he just laughed and kept
eating, which bothered my brother
even more.
It didn't take us long to get to
our hunting spot. The ﬁrst thing my
brother did was post me by a big oak
tree and, with old Boy Scout silent
13
Pennsylvania Game News - December 2013

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