“Manic Monkey in a Tree”

Recently, a member of my immediate family was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. A devastating illness for an individual and family members. And, if you haven’t thought about it lately, memory is important. In fact, memory is everything. When you were born you could not do anything. You couldn’t even sit up. You certainly did not know how to read, write, talk, use the potty, dress yourself, or feed yourself. But, you learned. You are able to do all of those things today BECAUSE you remember what you learned.

Bowhuntin Buddies

I bring this up because of an experience I had last hunting season. A bowhunting buddie and I were discussing the possibilities for the next morning, which was opening day. “I would hunt the stand in that bottom just over the levee. There are a number of Persimmon trees in there.” I thought about it for a few seconds. “That should work just fine!”, I said.
Daylight, opening day 2017, found me sitting quietly in that tree. The wind was perfect. Occasionally a persimmon turned lose, hitting the ground with a solid “thump” that a near deaf deer could hear. Just after good daylight, a small heard of doe and yearlings sprinted through the bottom, congregating around the Persimmon trees. Why? Because they were going to fed on the delicious fruit laying on the ground around those trees. How long would that a take? Well, since the wind was perfect, unless something spooked them, probably enough time for me to pick out the one I wanted, pick a lethal spot, and release the arrow. Just like I practiced hundreds of times in the back yard. Nope!
I have bowhunted for 40 years. Had the privilege of hunting some of the best territory, both public and private, in this great country. I’ve even killed a good number of animals with my bow. I’ve learned an enormous amount of information from some of the best hunters to be found. You would think that I would have remembered something about how to bowhunt. Nope! If you had filmed me, you would have seen something kin to a manic monkey, jumping to my feet, grabbing my bow and shooting three arrows that God would have to look for. The deer did not have a chance to even stop, much less settle down and begin to feed. It all happened so fast that I had no time to even fully remember what happened. i sat back down and thought, “What did you just do?” Shaking my head. “You acted like you have never drawn a bow before, never been on even one hunt”.
The only thing that kept me from loosening my safety belt and chunking myself to the ground is the fact that I knew all of my bowhuntin buddies (including you) has done the same thing. We have a tendency to completely lose touch with reality when a certain “fever” strikes. I know. You know. Hey, we are having fun, right? It happens. Later in the season, I shot three times at the biggest buck I’ve ever shot. A hot doe got him killed by a wild eyed, arrow flinging manic monkey in a tree. That’s another story, for another time. See you at the camp.

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