Backyard Buck

So my mother-in-law tells me tonight that she had seen 3 deer on their new property outside of Fayetteville, AR. She said they were "so pretty" and that one of 'em had "these great big horns". Naturally I played it cool and offered to eradicate the voracious rosé-eating beasts out of sheer kindness of my heart. She didn't buy it. Go figure. So then I had to resort to a more tactful means of creating a "buying atmosphere"...i.e., groveling, whining, begging and possible blackmail. She followed this up by mentioning that a mortally wounded "Bambi" running wildly through their neighbors' yards and/or bleeding out in the middle of their cul-de-sac probably wouldn't go over too well.

Then, it suddenly hit her. Ever since they'd (my in-laws) bought their 5 acre lot and had a new home built over the course of the past few months their existing next door neighbors (who had moved to Arkansas from New York 5 years prior) had been all over them about every little nit picky thing imaginable. The construction crews were too loud; the big trucks tore up the road; they had cut down too many trees to clear a spot for the house; they built too close to the property line; blah blah blah, etc. My mother-in-law hates their guts. The sticking point here is that their neighbors had commented on how much the love "their deer". I found my angle. I offered to dispose of these beloved "pets" to satisfy my m-i-l's thirst for retaliation against her obnoxious ass neighbors. I told her I would be there over the Christmas holiday and that I would bring my arsenal. She consented...albeit somewhat reluctantly.

Moral of the story: you can ALWAYS sell ANYBODY on ANYTHING if you remember that selling is about GIVING someone something they REALLY want.

Sometimes life gets in the way...

I love to deer hunt. Bowhunt, muzzleloader, rifle, stick, rock, handful of mud...anytime, anywhere, any method. I'm a deer hunting junkie. But as fate would have it, I'm a deer hunting junkie in "recovery". By recovery I mean being married with 2 kids and a full-time STRESSFUL job. You see, before the aforementioned factors were a part of my life I used to hunt the crap out of deer. Pretty much from mid-September to early January you wouldn't find my sorry ass anywhere but in the woods. And lovin' it. Responsibilities? Job? Class? Hell or high water? Inconsequential. Irrelevant. Now, gettin' a lead on a nice lookin' fat-necked 10-point bruiser? Gone. Don't call. See you after dark.

My new found "hunting sobriety" has taught me a lot, though. You can't always do whatcha wanna do and the things you thought you wanted to do don't seem to matter so much anymore. I'll admit that at first it was a hard-sell...but I've "come around to Mamma's way of thinking". But hear this...I'll never pass up an opportunity to squeeze in a "quickie" every now and then (a quickie HUNT that is).