T’was the night before Opening Day

T’was the night before Opening Day

We have a hunting ranch in far west Texas that we have owned since 2002.  It is a beautiful, remote area with huge vistas, broad low hills, and majestic sunsets.   We love being out there.   I don’t particularly like the drive to it, since it is over six hours each way so we typically only get out there on three day weekends or special occasions.  But once there, it is the most peaceful place you can imagine.  We are not in any flight patterns so no planes are heard or seen.  No vehicle noise except other owners who might be driving on the caliche road that divides up the properties.  

When out here, you hear no mechanical devices.  Think about that.  Nothing.  No trucks, no horns, no voices (most of the time) and no irritations.  It is a great place to be.  I credit my wife, the fetching Mrs. Intrepid Traveler, for encouraging us to invest in this property.  We bought a small slice of a 10,000 acre Wildlife Management Area.  All the other owners are like minded and want to preserve the beauty and quiet of the area like we do. 

We bring our friends and family out here to deer hunt or to just kick back and enjoy the solitude.  I am not a big deer hunter but that is a major activity here.  So I got to thinking about our hunts from the white tail deer’s perspective.  They are smart and cautious animals.  But they don’t have weapons other than their vision and incredible hearing.   So, I wrote a poem from their point of view, sort of, if they could even the playing field between themselves and the hunters.

A Visit from St. Nicholas

My apologies to Clement Clarke Moore, 1779 -1863, for borrowing his classic poem "A Visit from St. Nicholas", and using it for my own self-gratification.  This is my homage to that poem, and to the deer population that we cherish out here.  

T’was the night before Opening Day

T’was the night before Opening Day, where in the camp house
The hunters were all sleeping, including my spouse
The rifles were stacked by the chimney with care,
In hopes that another trophy head soon would hang there.

The hunters were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of white tails danced in their heads.

I was about to turn in when I heard a loud clatter

I ran to the living room to see what was the matter.

From where I stood I could hear someone speak
It was out in the yard, so I decided to peek.

So quick to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the crest of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a swat team of dark cladded white tail deer.

There was a large older male; strong and well-bred
I knew in an instant he was this group’s head.
More rapid than eagles his soldiers they came,
And he quietly signaled, then called them by name!

Report in!  Bruiser, Guido, Buster, and Ken!
Come in, Miguel, Robert, Bubba, and Ben!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
“Commence the action and round up them all"

Each had weapons, a backpack and blackened faces

Their combat boots were tied tightly with laces

It was not quite the sight one wants on Opening Day

The tables have turned and now we were the prey.

There was a sudden explosion from a flash bang grenade. 

I knew in an instant they were about to invade.

My buddies stumbled into the dark smoky gloom

They tried to make sense of it as they entered the room.

There was a tinkling of breaking glass and the shards fell in
The walls shook with vibration in the erupting din
As my astonishment grew I glanced all around,
Bursting thru the windows and doors, deer came with a bound.

Their leader was dressed all in black, from head to his foot,

His uniform had pockets and zippers to boot.
A bundle of ammo he had stuffed in his pack,
He looked like a Commando, on a determined track.

The stump of a cigar he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke encircled his antlers like a wreath.
He had a long face and flat hardened waist,
When he stared at me I turned to white paste!

He was muscled and tough.  A mean looking fellow.

And I cried when I saw him, my legs turned to Jello!
A squint of his eye and a twist of his head,
Made me think I soon could be dead.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
His team snatched up our weapons with a quick angry jerk.
And soon had our guns all gathered together. 

Then stuffed them all into a bag made of leather.

The leader sneered at us in our pitiful shape

We were scared and knew we could not escape

He grabbed the deer head from the wall and walked to the door

His glare made us all quickly dive for the floor

He slipped out to the darkness, while to his team yelling orders,
And away they all dashed, disappearing in the cedars.
I heard him exclaim, “Good job, tonight”

“Men without weapons makes for a fair fight”.

We stood there amazed.  Did this really just occur?

It happened so quickly it was all a blur.

How could deer dress up in uniforms, or lace up a boot?

And just what the hell will they do with our loot?

And did we just hear talking deer and see them proceed

To swarm thru our camp like trained soldiers? Indeed!

Before this, we were just hunters and not known for a brain,

But now when friends hear this they think us insane.

We never replaced any guns that hunting season

We had no wish to hunt, and we all knew the reason.

We were afraid they’d come back and do us real harm

So instead we decided to take up knitting with yarn.

Weary of Technology

  Please call back,  Mr. Locksmith.

Weary of technology

The other day, as I was speeding thru a Hospital zone, steering with my knees while eating a burger and holding a large drink, I realized I was not heading in the right direction for my destination.  My automobile’s GPS device had failed me again.  ARRRGH.  I get very frustrated when electronic gizmos don’t work right. 

So, I decided to try the new directions application on my phone.  I pitted one electronic device against another, my smart phone versus the vehicle GPS, to see if at least ONE of them could find the location.   I pulled over and stopped.  I could not hold the phone and drive since both hands were occupied with the burger and drink.  I needed to pull over anyway since a cop car with its flashing lights on was right behind me.  I guessed he wanted to pass. 

I did not know how to use the map application on the phone, so I started pecking around on the tiny little keyboard.  Why are those letters and numbers so small anyway?  Does the phone maker think we have school kid sized fingers?  What school kid could afford this phone anyway?   My large manly fingers constantly hit the wrong keys, and I really struggle to type on this thing.   I tried to start over when I got to a new screen I had not seen before.   It said “Welcome to Wiri”.  Wiri?  Is this my phone’s version of Siri? 

Suddenly the phone dinged and a voice came out that startled me.  The disembodied voice said, “Hey this is Wiri.  I am s’pose to say that.  What do you want, anyway, Smuck?”   The voice on Wiri, sounded like a cranky old New York man, who could not be bothered to help me.  This was the voice response gizmo on my phone. I thought I’d try it out.

Me:  “Hello Wiri?  Do I just ask you questions?”

Wiri:  “Hey Smuck, This ain’t a good time to train you.  I am tryin to take a nap here”.

Me:  “Sorry.  But can you tell me where I am?”   

Wiri:  “You really don’t know that, Kid?  You are in Loserville. Kid.   Get used to it.  And you are a big disappointment to your muther, too”

Me:  “Whaaa?”  I was dumbfounded by this crabby voice.  “What does my mother have to do….Look, Just tell me where I am”.

Wiri:  “ Whad do I look like, anyway?  Like a @#$% encyclopedia atlas for crying out loud?  You thinks I gotta road map stuffed up my…”

Just then I heard a rapping noise on the driver’s window glass.  I looked up and saw a cop, tapping on the glass with his nightstick, and motioning me to lower the window.

Cop:  “Sir, did you know you were speeding thru a Hospital zone back there?” 

Wiri:  “Hey, what business is it of yours, anyway Bub?   I am Wiri, dammit.  Wiri!  Can’t yous see I’m trying to take a nap here?”

The police officer looked at me like I was an idiot.  Like I was the only person who had not heard about all the cop shootings and violence against them.  He was suddenly on a razors edge of sensitivity.

Cop:  “Sir, you need to step out of the car”

Me:   I suddenly knew that he thought I had said that to him.  “Officer that was not me that said that, I’m not Wiri”

. 

Cop:  “Oh so now you are suddenly awake and alert, huh?  No longer weary?  Get out of the car and put your hands on the hood”.

Wiri:  “Hands? So now you think I have hands, Smuck?   Are you blind as well as dumb?”

Cop:  “Excuse me?”

This verbal interaction with the police officer was deteriorating very quickly.  Fortunately the smart phone battery died before the Officer’s night stick interacted with my forehead.  So much for using the smart phone for navigation.  Turns out I did not need to find the location I was searching for anyway.  My plans were changed.  I was done driving for the day.  The cop gave me a ride … to the police station.  It did not matter that the battery died, since the black ink now on my fingers would have smudged that tiny little keyboard anyway.

Who knew Hospital zones had low speed limits?  And why were there wheel chairs in the cross walk I just went thru? And who knew that discussing the matter with the cop while trying to finish my meal was not conducive to a positive outcome for me?  Maybe I should have offered him some fries.  He could think of them as slender donuts.

Now I wish I had my smart phone and the charger.  I have plenty of time to play with it and learn about these aps while I am in this holding cell.  I could even have Wiri make my one phone call.  I am sure it knows a good New York lawyer.