Feb
18
2008
My two brothers and I all shot nice 8 point and higher bucks this deer season in
Menominee County Michigan. My other brother charlie was not as lucky. This was
the poem I wrote to him.
Ryan
Twas the last day of deer season and all through the camp….not a buck was stirring not even a nub buck.
The buck pole was hung with hopes and dreams, that the turdy point buck would be seen
The hunter was snuggled in his blind, with magic apples dancing in his mind When out in the distance, there was a loud crash. He sprang for his binoculars to see a brown dash.Away in the distance a giant appeared, with 8 points on each side. The hunter began to fear.The sun started to glisten in the moonlit sky; he could now begin to see the white of the buck’s eyes.The orange hunter so lively and quick, sprang for his bolt rifle with a flick of the wrist.
As the buck sniffed the cool morning air, he knew that a doe must be near
The buck’s neck was broad and round, reminded him of some fat guy rollingaround.The frost on the buck’s nose was getting severe, so he stuck his face in the doe’s rear. The hunter knew he did not have much time because his brother Jon would be climbing down from his blind.The hunter launched his gun up with ease, knowing his bullet would make the buck bleed.With one eye open and safety off, he fired…He fired a shot!“Oh crap,” the hunter said, I missed and now the buck has fled The buck jumped into the air and ran for its life. And took a final look back…and sighed because the hunter had to tell his wife.Another season has passed, and there was no luck. I guess his name is still No Buck Chuck.
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the poem was absolutely hilarious - I too have brother that didn’t get a buck this year - he has a really sweet Matthew’s Switchback XT (loaded up with the best of the best), but ya gotta be in the woods and quiet to use such a tool - his name is Josh and I’m trying to get him to check out this site too - anyways, really cool poem and nice buck!