Brownwood, Texas is the place
Where we go to give game chase
Deer, Turkey, Dove or Quail
That’s where we track them on the trail
From a ground blind or a tree
This is where we feel most free

Drinking whiskey by firelight
Or sometimes it’s Cold Coors Lite

Hot, Cold, wind or rain, we don’t care
To fill our tag is our prayer
Rifle, Shot gun or Bow
To fill our freezer, with, bird, buck or doe

Sometimes we go just to camp
In the morning it is damp
Horse licking dew off the tent
Sometimes this is how night is spent

Flashing lights and UFO’s
No one believes us but we know
Taking Picture’s in Bluebonnets in spring
Lots of Stories about everything

Driving across condemned bridges
Chasing Deer across Fences
Busting bottles on the Sign
Driving through the River that winds

Multiple Jeeps, wheelers, Trucks of all Kinds
But Polaris Ranger is head of the line
When it comes to getting around
Smoothest ride on the ground

Kids, chase rabbits, and lizards galore
Collecting bones, climbing trees and more
20 years on this lease
Sometimes it is good for Peace

Of the soul and of the mind
A great place to escape the grind
Miles, Years, Family and Friends
It has paid in dividends

I'm just sitting here
waiting on a deer
wishing I had a beer

Or better yet some 40 creek
some 7up to mix I  seek
hoping the stand roof don't leak

In the driving rain
it would cause some pain
cold rain down the neck causes disdain

**************
In my coveralls
made by Walls
Coleman heater warming my *****

Bushnell binos around my neck
looking out, what the heck
oh it’s just a speck

On my lense
I feel dense
but I used uncommon sense

It wasn't a ghost
it was at most
something from the post

Where my binos sat
right next to my hat
and above the mat

Where my boots are
drying out from walking far
most people would drive a car
***********

Now sitting in the camper
feeling a bit hampered

By the cold and rain
it's the mud that causes pain.

Slippery and wet
a mess you get

with every step
cannot move with pep

It's like walking on wet glass
you will slip and bust your ***
then a muddy mess you'd be
wouldn't want anyone to see

The deer’s breath in cold
Is a cloud of sun lit smoke
Eyes dart back and forth

off season digital hunting

Dove, quail and deer
Eat corn at the feeder

Two turkey fly down from the roost
All heads come up as hogs walk by

Batteries in my pocket and SD card in hand
No rifle in hand for a reason

Currently nothing is in season
Just came to swap batteries and cards

In my trail camera
It watches and reports silently

Day and night
The comings and goings, natures delight.

The ***** and squirrels are frequent visitors
Robins and cardinals, titmouse and woodpeckers

All come for a bite
All captured digitally.

Hunting dove down on the backroad
way on back only the rancher knows
he doesn’t care so we wait for flight
12 gauges ready to start our plight

Ring necks, white wings, and mourning’s are game
chichi birds make us swing all the same
listening for the whistle and the beat of the wing
one of us today, will win the brass ring

Limiting out is what we’re hoping for
but if not, you couldn’t hope for more
outside with friends and family alike
kids getting bored, gone on a hike

Men at the truck with cold Coors Light
relaxing outdoors, no one’s uptight
suns getting low, they are about to fly
here they come, hear the wings sigh

Draw a bead and a lead and fire away
one bird down, hope there’s more we pray
birds on the tailgate at the end of fight
get em’ all clean before the black of the night.

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

Long ginger muzzle
eyes burning
through the copse, fixed upon
the snuffling vole eating
grubs in the moonlight,fangs
like stunted darning needles
revealed in its widening jaw.
hunching in the grass
it crawled cautiously forward
and pounced
like a god on an acolyte
quenching blood-lust-
the fox ate again that night.

Snapping twigs like snapping bones
A silent silence that silences all
Almost unreal, almost too still
A different planet, maybe.
But as she drew nearer
Wide-eyed and weary
Early on this bitter morn
She was alone once more.
Fawn-less now, unattended
Even stag, if you will
Yearning for her child still
But hey, a wolf’s gotta eat.
Another meal for another beast
She walks along, breaking bones
Scenery just as grey as the sky
A shiny lense catches her wide eye.
It witnessed every last detail
Every gruesome cry and wail
Will they enjoy this tragedy?
She doubts it.
As of late, the hunting ended
But she hopes they will learn
That after she’s hunted by guns
She’s hunted by fangs.