Ehrhardt, circa 1982. Our dog club technically stopped hunting on thanksgiving day as that’s when the bird hunters took over. They would let us know when it was cool to hunt after that and if not a group of us would go to Ehrhardt to hunt.
One cold as hell December morning Junior Martin asked me to go in the swamp with him. I knew why….i was big and young and the drag outta there was not friendly, lol. We walked, then waded, then paddled our way in. Once we got to the high ground we were securing the boat when here they come. A whole damn herd of them.
Junior was between me and the deer so I stood there waiting on him to shoot. He turns and tells me to shoot. We half argue back and forth before he finally realizes he may well die if I shoot so he pulls up…..
“PINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG”
I bit my lip trying not to laugh at just how damn loud that hammer hitting the firing pin sounded in 15-20 degree stillness. I stood stock still. Junior stood stock still. The deer? They did what deer do and stood there trying to figure out WTF they heard then they trotted off.
After what seemed like forever Junior slowly turned around to face me, “don’t you tell a fucking soul”
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