Clinton (probably best described as my cousin) shot a nice buck this year. With a bow:
14 points – he was pretty pleased. I was planning on showing he and Tom (his father) where “the farm” is located, but I suspect I’ll have to wrangle some email mechanism to get them there. I have some GPS points at home in a notebook, so I bet I can come up with something with Google Maps…
The one day we (Ben and I) had planned to take him up there, it had thunderstormed the night before, and neither Ben nor I had any clothes that were really suitable for tromping around in muddy fields.
The funny story with this buck that was getting passed around was that Clinton was in the stand, trying to wait until it died so he didn’t scare it off and have to track it for miles. So he was on his cell phone calling everyone. The most amusing was the taxidermist (he’s having the head mounted) who said “when are you going to bring it in?”, to which Clinton replied “When it’s dead.”
Maybe that’s just really midwest humor, but I keep snickering at that one.