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Hunting in a box stand on a piece of  leased land waiting, buck to walk by wind and rain from the sky Feeder goes off, throwing corn day after thanksgiving morn little six point walks by it makes you want to cry Because he's not 13 inches wide waiting, shift in the chair side to side check out the windows, all directions ones bound to walk by, expectations Pair of doe hop in feeder disappear behind a cedar waiting is hunting hunting is waiting Antlers is all you see coming from behind that tree stops and smells your doe scent lure supposed to work simple and pure Be still now, move real slow slide your rifle out the window calm your breathing look through the scope with buck fever now you must cope Aim behind the shoulder, hold your breath pull the trigger hope for instant death takes a few steps, down he goes more points than you have fingers and toes Pack up your stuff, go get the truck bring it back, load the buck gut, skin and quarter do it in that order Don't forget the tenders and straps into sausage but those perhaps in the cooler all that goes become fried steak with potatoes How bout gravy and some beans sounds like dinner know what I mean what you hope for every time doesn't always sitting in the blind. Back in the stand for evening hunt doe ***** scent and call that grunts binoculars to take a look **** the time, a good book Feeder throws at 4:25 be ready now,  look alive here they come, three doe's eating on corn they go All three heads come up and look ready haunches about to book relax again, another doe hoped for a buck, all is woe Look through binos, scan around just a bunch of cactus mounds waiting and watching, patiently called hunting, not killing you see Wait, and wait some more fox walks by the stand door doe's look up, they are spooked I get ready to aim and shoot Big eight walks out in full stride has to be twenty-four  inches wide look through the scope, see a drop tine not an eight but a big boss nine He's not stopping, I grunt the call turns broadside, ready to fall squeeze the trigger, feel the kick he kicks once, dead right quick Work begins once more break out the knife start the chore gut and skin And quarter again thank goodness I brought my friend Fill the freezer for the year day is done time for a beer
0
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 1:12 PM UTC
Hunting
Hunting in a box stand on a piece of  leased land waiting, buck to walk by wind and rain from the sky Feeder goes off, throwing corn day after thanksgiving morn little six point walks by it makes you want to cry Because he's not 13 inches wide waiting, shift in the chair side to side check out the windows, all directions ones bound to walk by, expectations Pair of doe hop in feeder disappear behind a cedar waiting is hunting hunting is waiting Antlers is all you see coming from behind that tree stops and smells your doe scent lure supposed to work simple and pure Be still now, move real slow slide your rifle out the window calm your breathing look through the scope with buck fever now you must cope Aim behind the shoulder, hold your breath pull the trigger hope for instant death takes a few steps, down he goes more points than you have fingers and toes Pack up your stuff, go get the truck bring it back, load the buck gut, skin and quarter do it in that order Don't forget the tenders and straps into sausage but those perhaps in the cooler all that goes become fried steak with potatoes How bout gravy and some beans sounds like dinner know what I mean what you hope for every time doesn't always sitting in the blind. Back in the stand for evening hunt doe ***** scent and call that grunts binoculars to take a look **** the time, a good book Feeder throws at 4:25 be ready now,  look alive here they come, three doe's eating on corn they go All three heads come up and look ready haunches about to book relax again, another doe hoped for a buck, all is woe Look through binos, scan around just a bunch of cactus mounds waiting and watching, patiently called hunting, not killing you see Wait, and wait some more fox walks by the stand door doe's look up, they are spooked I get ready to aim and shoot Big eight walks out in full stride has to be twenty-four  inches wide look through the scope, see a drop tine not an eight but a big boss nine He's not stopping, I grunt the call turns broadside, ready to fall squeeze the trigger, feel the kick he kicks once, dead right quick Work begins once more break out the knife start the chore gut and skin And quarter again thank goodness I brought my friend Fill the freezer for the year day is done time for a beer
Was written on my phone while sitting in the box stand the day after thanksgiving  © 9 months ago
jed-johnson
Written by
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 1:12 PM UTC
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