I do a fair amount of whining, b*tching, and snarling on this blog, so it’s a pleasure to report for a change on something that brings nothing but warm, gooey feelings. In November I and four geezer friends went deer hunting at King & Bartlett Fish & Game Club near Eustis, Maine. K&B; is a very classy establishment that is not a club in the strict sense of the word (all you need is money; social acceptability is not a factor), and it offers great trout fishing, grouse hunting, and whitetail deer hunting.
There are plenty of deer, and they grow very big, but because K&B; encompasses a great many acres, and because the Maine woods are so dense, it’s easy for the deer to avoid getting shot. You can easily go for a whole week and never see one, even though there is fresh sign everywhere.
So Jon Story, which is his real name, sees a massive 10-point buck horning a tree about 90 yards away, but he sees only the head and neck, and that through a small hole in the brush, and there is no way to shoot except offhand, and nothing to rest against. Now I would have taken that shot, and so would just about everyone else in camp, I suspect. But Jon did not. He’s a perfectly competent marksman, but he didn’t think he could do it, so he held fire, and eventually came away from camp deerless.
What can you say but “bravo”? There, by god, is a sportsman in the true sense of the word. May his tribe increase.