Old Geezer’s Deer Hunting Lament

Posted on 03. Sep, 2008 by in Literature

With Wisconsin’s annual gun deer season just around the corner, I thought I’d share with you a true story that I heard from an old friend of mine, a guy I’ll call Old Geezer. Seems that OG, now that his Golden Years are rapidly encroaching on him, still feels as though he’s still “got it.” Yet, he still feels compelled to prove that he’s still got it.

So with that in mind, last year he went hunting for an antlerless deer during Wisconsin’s special, temporary Zone-T, herd control season. The following is his story.

I’m certain that the astute, discerning reader will recognize that this tale is not autobiographical! (and if you believe that…)

Old Geezer’s Deer Hunting Lament
by Tom Bridenhagen

There’s really no justice
A deer hunter knows.
When you’re hunting for bucks
You only see DOES!
When you’re hunting for does
(and this really sucks)
Instead of seeing does
You only see BUCKs!

The morning was cool. Zone T, said the State.
Hunt only for does. A doe would be great.

So off to the woods, with hopes oh so high.
There are lots of does. Old Geezer would try…

To fill his doe tag, meat for the freezer.
Burgers and brats, and steaks for the geezer.

Retired, he was, with time on his hands,
For fishing and hunting, on waters and lands.

Retired indeed! He’d show all the rest.
Though frost on his rooftop, he still was the best

At filling deer tags. Meat for the freezer.
Respect for his age. Not bad for a geezer!

So on his deer stand, that October day.
Deer hunting so grand, the Wisconsin way.

The cedars so dark, the birches so white.
In just a few minutes, it soon would be light.

Geez sat by a stump. The morning was foggy.
His knees they were aching. His brain it was loggy.

The sun it was late. The sky it was cloudy.
Time for some daylight! Time to say “Howdy”

To squirrels and crows and bluejays and tweeties.
Good thing (he knows) he’d eaten his Wheaties

Or else oh so soon, his stomach would growl.
Just when the does would be on the prowl.

But time it did drag. The does didn’t show!
“Where the heck are they?” he wanted to know.

Seven, then eight, and then half past 9.
“It’s already late. The hunting’s not fine.

“How can I show’m, that I can still do it?
“So come on ol’ does, let’s really get to it.

“Go for a stroll, head for your bed.
“Before this old troll is sleeping,” he said.

Then, just like a ghost a deer, it came gliding.
Not stumbling or jerky, not slipping or sliding.

But smoooth, just like silk, it slid through the fog.
No cat or no turkey, now cow or no dog.

But a deer, what a beauty!
But just Geezer’s luck

Not the doe that he wanted
But only…. a buck.

With rack like a tree, all pointed and high.
A trophy to see. It made Old Geez cry

To see that buck strut, so strong and so cocky.
Like Sylvester Stallone, the intrepid Rocky.

It scraped and it pawed, sign posts for females.
Old Geezer was awed. But he wanted not he-males

But does, not this buck, no buck for his freezer.
“I’m hunting a doe. So git now!” said Geezer.

The buck it did turn. Looked him straight in the eye.
Old Geezer it spurned, with not even a sigh.

As if just to say, “I’m boss here, you know.
“And if you don’t like it, then you can just go.”

When you’re hunting for does
(and this really sucks)

Instead of seeing does
You only see BUCKs!

The hours did drag, came creeping so slowly.
Geez’s eyelids did sag, getting so lowly.

But Geezer was TUFF. He shook his head.
“I ain’t had enough. I’ll git one!” he said.

Then off to his right, he saw a deer running!
Through his scope sight, he’d go a gunning

To shoot that old doe. But such was his luck …
It wasn’t a doe. ‘Twas only a buck.

With body so strong and antlers so nice.
Geez’d waited so long. He had to look twice.

But sure as the dickens. ’twas only a he-male.
He’d gotten up with the chickens. But nary a female!

When you’re hunting for does
(and this really sucks)

Instead of seeing does
You only see BUCKs!

The afternoon waned. The sky it turned red.
Old Geezer was drained. He nodded his head.

“Gotta keep sharp. Fill up that freezer
“Don’t wanna eat carp. Just deer,” said the geezer.

Then what to the wandering eye should appear?
Sneaking so slowly. A dainty doe deer!

A dark, silent ghost. She came through the brush.
50 yards at the most. She came with a hush.

Nearer and nearer, her nose to the ground.
He surely would hear’r, if she’d make a sound.

But…
No sound did she make. She just slid right on by.
The ground didn’t shake. The birds didn’t cry.
That sly little lady, just trotted away.

Not a wimp or a fraidy. She just didn’t stay.
Off safely she went, off through the birches.
The birds they were silent, looked on from their perches.

And next to a stump, as twilight came creeping.
A snoring resounded. Old Geezer was sleeping.

There’s really no justice
A deer hunter knows.
When you’re hunting for bucks
You only see DOES!
When you’re hunting for does
(and this really sucks)
Instead of seeing does
You only see BUCKs!

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