Friday, March 31, 2006

Bobbys' New Stand

HalfMoon, MS> Bobby Howell said that he just couldn’t climb in a deer stand anymore. He did manage to spend a couple of years poking people with his cane and hogging the fire at camp before Burney came up with an idea to help the Old Codger get after the deer again.
A ground blind! Made of plywood with a window, a door and easy to get in and out of. With great fanfare it was put togetner and placed at the end of the Narrow Field near the camp.
Opening afternoon Bobby finally agreed (after much badgering) to go kill a deer and reluctantly left the warmth of the fire. We celebrated that we had a chance to get warm!
Bobby returned through the door only an hour later in a terrible tizzy and madder than hell. Limping over to the fireplace, he was so mad he couldn’t speak, he slammed his cane down, tossed his gun over into the corner and finally managed to shout that he was never going hunting again. Much mumbling, griping, screaming and shaking of fist in the air later we still couldn't figure out his problem until between whacking people with his cane and sheer hell raising, he finally screamed “Someone took a s**t in my stand!”
Since then it is known as the Privy Stand,
and for some reason Thunderhoof laughs every time he goes by there.

Thursday, March 30, 2006


The only reported picture of Thunderhoof as a teenager.
Some claim it is his cousin named Goliath.
He looks kinda puny to be Thunderhoof.
I mean he only has 60 points.



Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Bruce Harding Kilt a Deer!

Blind Luck, MS> Trent Howell, worry-wart and deer pessimist, had thought about it for a long time. He wanted to invite his best old friend down to the camp to hunt, but couldn’t figure out how to do it without his friend actually getting to hunt. He decided (against his better judgement) to invite him.
After all, the man had been deer hunting for 40 years without killing a deer, the odds were in Trents’ favor. Besides, he knew exactly where to put him. No one had seen a buck off the arrowhead field in three years. There wasn’t a deer within a mile of that stand. Trent, of course, sealed his own fate.
Bruce was relieved that everyone had been so nice to him. They had even put him on
their best stand. He couldn’t wait to finally get that big buck in his sights. He sat there enjoying the quiet morning, time dragged on. After awhile, Bruce started thinking, maybe Trent really didn’t have him on a great stand. He hadn’t even seen a deer all morning.
Could he be that shallow? His reverie was interrupted by the crunch of leaves and the heavy sound of a deer coming straight at him. He got ready. The big nine point ambled into the field right in front of him. BLAM! The rifle recoiled and the deer managed only a few steps and fell. Bruce was the happiest man in the world as he finally laid his hands on the big horns. That Trent sure was a great guy!
Later that night Trent took out his little black book, wrote Bruces’ name in it and put a line through it.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

How to Grunt a Deer

Honkdeer, MS> Paul Howell, notorious game hog, shyster lawyer and blood thirsty outlaw never meets a buck that doesn't grunt nowadays. For 40 years he hunted and never heard one. Now, as a member of the famous Christmas Place Deer Language School he hears them everytime he wanders into the damn woods. It was time to test his newest deer killing device. He was just south of the Crossover Road and sat in his climber waiting on a big buck. The morning was still and he could hear a deer 200 yards away if there was one. He heard nothing. The morning dragged, but his bloodlust was up, and as we know he's greedy, so he reached in his pocket and pulled out his new A-1 Ace Super Duper Grunt Call (with a double reed and a compass in the stock). He held it feeling foolish and looked down the hole in the end. “Oh, hell” he thought “ might as well give it a try”.
He tried to remember the instructions as he made a gentle blow through it. “QUACK!
He looked around. Distantly, he immediately heard a big buck answer! GRUUUNT!
The deer was obviously confused as to why a mallard would be in a pine thicket!
Maybe he was imagining things? He decided to give it another try “QUACCKKK!!!
Nothing, No sound until a low “GRUUUNT” nearer to him. Obviously an insane duck deer was getting closer. Paul got ready. Nothing. He waited and waited. One more try. His best try produced a rusty “QUACKUUUNT” The crazy deer sprang out of the woods heading straight for him looking for the duck. BOOM! The 7 Mag. Roared and the deer dropped in its’ tracks. The big nine point for some reason tasted like chicken or maybe roast duck.
Trent is still furiously looking through the rule book about shooting a deer while impersonating a duck with no success. Now you know how to grunt up a big old buck. (Tip: Blind Fool Luck)

Stone Lights Up the Grill

Emeril, MS> Matt Stone, world renowned chef, here pictured with an unidentified crazy turkey murderer, is eager to get back to the Christmas Place to do a little hunting and a lot of cooking. He knows all sorts of strange recipes from the god forsaken swamps of Louisiana. He can cook blackened redfish and reddened blackfish, he can cook armadillo Cajun fricassee a la mode.
He can whip up shrimp gumbo a crapo’. He makes biscuits that melt in your mouth and red eye gravy from the red eye of a red heron. Crawfish au gratin with rice and muskrat pie. A natural coon-ass cook if ever there was one.
Members drooled over his recipes and at last a member asked him “What wonderful meals do you make with venison?” he blankly said “Venison?”

Burney and the Enchanted Fish

Hotcrappie, MS> Burney Howell, crooked black jack dealer and of course crooked appraiser had finally earned a little down time.
He had finally reached the big 40 acre lake in the middle of the Christmas Place Anglers Club and the crappie were biting like crazy. He eased the boat a little closer to the bank and flipped his hook underneath an overhanging limb and a big slab crappie grabbed it. He pulled it in. WoW! This was fun. The peace and solitude was great, the fishing fantastic!
Burney started to unwind and the tension oozed out of his body. A noise disturbed him, it kept growing until Burney started looking around. Unhappily he laid his rod down and finally looked down into the 5 gallon bucket that the fish were in. Between splashing and a strange gurgling he made out a voice “help me!” the tiny voice said. Burney peered closer. The top fish was staring at him. The voice came from the fish “help me. I was enchanted by an evil sorcerer, help me and I will grant your every wish!” the tiny voice said. Burney gently pulled the fish out and carefully laid it on the seat beside him, pulled his knife out and quickly cut the head off the fish and pitched it back in the bucket. He muttered “damn fish, has to talk, talk, talk when I’m trying to relax and fish”.

Monday, March 27, 2006

The Worst Sight

Cold Track, MS> My front track is heading for a cold water well, my backtrack is covered in snow. This is the worst sight you can see as you come in from freezing your booty off all day.
It is also the best!

Sneakin' Around

Greedy Gulch, MS> As summer rolls into fall, the Howell Gang starts to show weird symptoms of deer hunting madness that they call Scouting. Usually while Some (Rex and Hershel) are working the fields and getting everything ready for the season,
Others (Trent and Paul) are disappearing at every opportunity into the woods in search of big deer sign.
The secret involved in finding a good place to deer hunt at the Famous Christmas Place Hunting Club is mainly using the staples of lying, greed and secrecy. Being involved with lawyers happens to be good practice, I have two of them in my family.
Scouting for the right spot involves visiting every field to find out the deer movement for that season, scouting large blocks of woods for big buck sign (hooks, scrapes, trails) also finding an ideal location for your opening weekend climber or ladder stand and not giving any information away as to what you are doing. Sneaking around while doing this helps so that no one knows where you are on the property and going there to check for themselves.
Lying about what you found helps make everyone scout harder. Cause if you say you found nothing, they figure you are lying anyway!
Getting a big buck is a hard task and at the Christmas Place it is also a major mind game. So, come Sept 1st forget golf, fishing or any kind of work. (HA-HA) All the members at the Christmas Place will be sneakin’ around.

Tragedy In the Pines

Night Gallery, MS> Picture Paul Howell, well liked and respected crooked attorney, and avid deerhunter makes an exciting trip for a needed hunting weekend at the famous Christmas Place. He happily arrives, but soon finds himself hunting in a strange place we call The Twilight Zone.
Mr. Howell places himself in a well concealed tree stand along a heavily used deer trail in a large pine flat. Big buck sign is abundant and he settles in to wait. It is cold but he is wearing gloves. He relaxes.
Later, the large buck appears, slipping noiselessly through the pines. Paul is caught off-guard and throws his rifle to his shoulder. Something is wrong! The safety won’t move. His glove has hooked on the safety and it won’t budge! The big buck is silently drifting out of range. He rips his hand free! Trying to rise for a shot, Paul holds the rifle up with one hand. BOOM! The rifle goes off! Things seem to be spinning out of control.
He curses under his breath, pulls the rifle to himself to bolt it, catches his hand on the safety strap and CLICK! SPRANG! SWISHHHH! He accidentally hits the magazine release! All his bullets spray straight out and fall to the ground. Paul holds an empty weapon as he hears footsteps coming back toward him. Frantically he searches his pockets for another bullet! The large buck walks right under him! Bullet! Bullet! My kingdom for a damn bullet! The big buck is gone.
He glances down, a young spike is sniffing his bullets, it raises a leg. Paul Howell rubs his eyes. He has learned a lesson about hunting in the shadowy realm we call The Twilight Zone.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Strange Sightings and Deer Holes

Loch Ness, MS> My father, Hershel, is one of those people that can not help strange things happening to him in the woods. Who can forget the day we were bowhunting in shirtsleeves and he returned with a bizarre tale about a blizzard hitting him as he went up the Tallahatchie River. Another was the comet that almost got him a few years ago as it supposedly whizzed right past his head. Then there was the peacock incident when the strange peacock hopped into a tree beside him at the Eastgate Stand and went to sleep. Another was the bear that he saw, next to the camp that left no sign or tracks. Panthers and strange screams heard at the lost 40. The members at the camp have learned to avoid stories from this crazy old coot. The last incident he had involved deer holes. Many hunters complain when the deer seem to disappear and say they have gone into deer holes. At the Christmas Place, my father, thinks he has located one of the elusive holes.
Hershel Howell sat on the back porch that afternoon having a drink, he was just relaxing and taking it easy when movement caught his eye. Something was moving under the Witchs’ House. Mr. Howell moved to the kitchen grabbed his binoculars and looked.
He could see movement in the two foot crawl space under the house. Then, a doe eased out from under the house! Another one! Then a nice buck crawled out. He couldn’t believe the buck could crawl under the house with those horns! What the hell were they doing under there to begin with? He went to the kitchen, told everyone to come look. When we got there the deer were gone. Very strange! Through the hooting and jeering he kept to his story and now Hershel keeps a close watch from his vantage point and when the deer disappear again he says he knows where to find them.

Friday, March 24, 2006

The Stupid Stand

Rex could recognize a funnel point when he saw it.
No need to mention it to his so-called expert brothers. Halfway down the long ridge leading to the Double White Oak Area, lots of trails but no big buck sign. It was also where everyone had to walk to get to the so-called good spots. Other members laughed when Rex wanted to hunt there.He finally shamed them into givng him some help and moved a ladder stand to the spot.
(since they had hogged all the good spots anyway)
Paul (the expert) said “This is the stupidest spot I have ever seen to put a deer stand. Once again his fate was sealed. Thanksgiving morning, BOOM!
Rex connected and the large 200lb. nine point was put on the pole. That is how the so-called stupid place to hunt has turned out to be one of our most consistent stands and became from that day forward the Stupid Stand.


Scorched Earth, MS >(2) Greenpeace marchers tied their members to trees on the bluff at the famous Christmas Place Excavation today protesting the actions of crazed Land Baron Hershel Howell“We’ll stop him, if he gets all of us! they cried as they went into a rendition of “Kumbaya”.
Mr. Howell had recently been seen bulldozing half of Holmes County. Riding astride the giant bulldozer he said “As long as I have money and diesel, I’m going to make this 2200 acres the flattest delta land in the country.”
Greenpeace was joined in the protest by The EPA, Sierra Club, Corp of Engineers, Ducks Unlimited and Farm Bureau. Representatives were there from the Mississippi Historical society, Daughters of the Confederacy and Bureau of Indian Affairs. “ The Indian Mounds must be saved! They contain the pots of our ancestors.!” the Indian official screamed.
An old purple haired woman in tennis shoes shook her fist and said “We know he sold an historic old cannon for scrap and now he is going to bulldoze the historic witchs’ house. Where will she haunt?” She sobbed as Mr. Howell made a sweep around the yard scattering protestors. He said “ Damn the torpedos! Full speed ahead!” (This is a famous quote from somewhere) Then yelled “Get the hell out of the way, you old Bat! (This is not a famous quote but can be quite hair raising when a giant bulldozer is barreling down at you.) Panicked members ran to defend their favorite deer spots but Mr. Howell was undaunted. Bobby Howell,National Guard representative threatened to call in an air strike on Hershel and the damn hippies loitering all over the place. Undaunted he zipped the bulldozer toward the lake that Burney had vowed to defend with his last cast. Last seen Mr. Howell was headed toward Eastgate singing “A plowing we will go, a plowing we will go!

Thursday, March 23, 2006


Double Bogey, MS> Once again the time is getting near for Golf Camp at the famous Christmas Place Bogey Shooters Club.
Your host Trent Howell (18hcp) is sprucing up the camp and preparing his invite list.
The courses involved will be the Silver City links near Belzoni and the Benton Golf Links below Yazoo City.
Expected guest at this time:
1.Joe (Cliff Claven) Black- CPA, and undercover agent for the IRS. Like all CPA’s, his pencil has an eraser. Known as the only person to bore a golf ball to death with useless facts.
2. Trent (Hacker) Howell- Lawyer (which means he cheats), Known to choke a golf club to death over a bad shot.Recognized by bandages all over hands from useless Practice.
3. Greg ( Long Dong) Jones- Insurance Agent-yes, we know!- Known to hit 350 yards drives,unfortunately that is how far he hits his chip shots too. Known for passing out somewhere on back nine.
4.Mark (Shank) Stewart- Postal Worker- don’t piss him off, carries UZI in his golf bag. Known to shank a ball so bad it boomerangs.
5. Rex (Clank) Howell- Real Estate Agent-Yes, Snake, Crooked - Known to look good till he actually has to hit the ball, designated bogey specialist.
6. Barry (Nine) Weeks- Dentist and complainer has to be coaxed with beer and hotdogs to play more than 9 holes. Known to still have the first gold tooth he ever stole.
7. Paul (Go for It) Howell- another damn lawyer,they play golf in packs like wolves. Known to cheat, lie and steal, and don’t even get me started on his golf.
8. Hershel (Millionaire) Howell- Retired golf shark is known to have taken at least a million dollars off these idiots playing golf. Known for his latest ploy of wanting to play from short senior tees, and can still hit it farther than you.

Thursday Practice will be behind club house as we whack golf balls and try to run deer out of Hershels’ garden. A date is being decided, please contact T. Howell for more signup Info.

Two Shots At Dawn

Brotherly Love, MS> Trent Howell sat in his stand surveying the hillside just after daylight. It was still. Not a leaf moved, it was a perfect morning to take a big old buck. Just then a tremendous BOOM! from a gunshot rattled the stillness from the direction of where Paul was hunting. “Oh, Crap” he thought to himself. “That damn Paul has killed a giant buck!”
Paul Howell bolted his rifle and looked down at the scene. The morning stillness was broken
and he felt bad about the shot, but that’s the way it was. He sat in his stand and listened as the forest quieted around him, when the loud CRACKKK! of a large bore rifle roared down through the woods from the direction of Trents’ stand.
“Holy Crap” he thought to himself. “That S.O.B. has killed another big buck”
They met at the camp for lunch. No deer? Neither had brought in a deer. What happened? They had each shot a coyote and scared each other to death. Ahhh, sibling rivalry at it’s finest!

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Trents' Birthday Buck

OldAge, MS> He had suffered a long hard season and Trent wasn’t getting any younger. Everyone in camp had blasted at least one nice buck except for Trent. The damn laughing and jeering when he went out to his stand was more than he could take. He returned over and over empty handed. To top it off his fiftieth (50) birthday was approaching like a whirlwind.He dropped into the grump mode (which wasn’t much of a stretch). Plans for a big party (nix)presents and a nice dinner out (nix) a hot time and a little oh-la-la (nix) (nix) (nix). The season was coming down to the last weekend and he planned to hunt everyday until he got his deer, birthday or no birthday! He hunted hard that weekend but no deer for the grumpy aging shyster. The last day of the season and his birthday was upon him January 22. His wife Shelley (martyr) agreed to go with him to camp as he made his last gasp effort to kill a deer.
Trent had moved down to the edge of the cottonfield because Mark had seen a big buck crossing it a few weeks ago. He hoped that the deer would filter out of the hills that afternoon and the buck would reappear. The day grew long and only a few deer had shown. The sun was setting and only a few minutes remained before it would be too dark to shoot.
The feeling of a lost season churned in his stomach. Way across the field a giant set of antlers moved his way. He moved his field glasses up and checked “Whoa, Nellie!” The big deer ambled toward him but the angle might be too far. Trent took a rest and in the fading last minute of light laid the crosshairs on the buck at 200 yards. BLAM! the rifle roared and the huge buck collapsed. The huge deer was taken in the last second of the last minute of daylight on the last day of the gun season. It was dark when he found the deer. He went back to camp with a whole new attitude. He met his wife at the door with a strange gleam in his eye. What a birthday to remember!

Tuesday, March 21, 2006


Campfire, MS> (as told by Hershel Howell) It was early in my deerhunting career and the truth is I did not know much about deerhunting.
In the late fifties and early sixties there was no real decent hunting gear to keep warm, but I already knew that I hated freezing to death on a deer stand. Bramlett Garrett and I hunted a lot together then and after much whiskey and deliberation we figured out how to stay warm on our deerstands. We put together a simple battery powered hand warmer to take to our stands. We bought the materials and a car
battery apiece, lugged the batteries in to our stands before the coldest part of the season and waited.
The day arrived and it was freezing cold. A light rain had fallen and turned to ice the day before and we trudged to our stands excited about a big buck and knowing we would stay warm. My stand was covered in a sheet of ice, but very carefully I broke the ice off my seat, moved the battery around, hooked it up and relaxed. In the middle of the morning,I was straining for any sound or movement and turned in my stand at the least little crack of a branch or sound when my foot slipped and hit the battery. The battery, sitting on the sheet of ice, shot out of the deerstand! In horror, I looked down just in time to see the battery land right between the antlers of a huge buck, knocking it to the ground as the battery stuck on the large Browtines.
Amazed, I watched as the deer lay still.
I could see acid running down the side of the deers’ face. There was no doubt in my mind that the deer was dead.
I carefully climbed down out of the tree.
Reaching the ground I prodded the big old buck with my gunbarrel to be sure it was dead. It did not move. I laughed, laid my gun down and reached out to grab it’s massive antlers. Just then the buck came alive and took off! The battery firmly stuck between its’ antlers.
That was the last time I saw him but for years people recognized him by the white scar from the acid down the side of his face. Other people said you could tell it was him if you saw the word DIEHARD coming at you through the woods.

The Cannon of Gold

Metaldetector, Ms> When we bought the famous Christmas Place, the broker involved in the deal reminded us to keep a sharp lookout for the cannon barrel. According to legend, General Forrest had taken a large gold shipment from the Union Army in a daring raid. Under cover of dark nights and bad weather he made it to Lexington, then headed southwest and made his way to the Christmas Plantation before heading into Yazoo City. Hidden in the edge of the hills,his army regrouped and spent several days resting and preparing his cavalry to move.
The Union Army had moved up the Yazoo River by then and orders came to move as quickly as possible to offset the threat of the Union ironclads, by defending the river and the shipyard at Greenwood where the C.S.S Arkansas was being refitted to move into the Yazoo and then the Mississippi River. They had to move swiftly and all unnecessary supplies and gear was discarded. The gold was placed inside of a cannon barrel and sealed with hot lead. The cannon, along with many supplies were buried in the hills above the plantation home.
They could retrieve the gold and cannon later. Time and the war went on and they never returned. Rumors grew and stories spread. Years have come and gone but the gold is still here waiting to be discovered.

Old Jokes With a Christmas Place Twist

Paul Howell and Trent Howell decided to hunt the back of the famous Christmas Place and went on a camping trip. After a good meal and a bottle of wine, they lay down for the night and went to sleep. Some hours later, Paul awoke and nudged his sleepy brother
“Trent, look up and tell me what you see."
Trent replied, "I see millions and millions of stars."
"What does that tell you?” Paul asked,
Trent pondered for a minute. "Astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo. Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three. Theologically, I can see that God is all powerful and that we are small and insignificant. Meteorologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. Why, what does it tell YOU?"
Paul was silent for a minute, then spoke. "Trent, you idiot. Some jerk has stolen our tent."
It was Saturday morning and Rex, an avid hunter, woke up ready to go bag the first deer of the season. He goes down to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, and to his surprise he finds his fiancee, Denise, sitting there, fully dressed in camouflage. Rex asks her, What are you up to? Denise smiles, I'm going hunting with you! Rex, though he has many reservations, reluctantly decides to take her along. They arrive at the hunting site. Rex sets Denise safely up in the tree stand and tells her: If you see a deer, take careful aim on it and shoot. I'll come running back as soon as I hear the shot. Rex walks away with a smile on his face knowing that Denise couldn't bag a chicken, let alone a deer. But not 15 minutes pass when he is startled as he hears several gunshots. Quickly, Rex starts running back to her treestand. As Rex gets closer, he hears Denise screaming, “Get away from my deer!” Confused, Rex races faster towards his screaming fiancee. And again he hears her yell, :Get away from my deer!” Followed by another volley of gunfire. Now within sight of where he had left his fiancee’ Rex is surprised to see a cowboy, with his hands high in the air. The cowboy, obviously distraught, says, “Okay, ma’am, okay! You can have your deer! Just let me get my saddle off it!”
One day Rex and Burney were Deer Hunting, and they got lost. Rex tells Burney "wait, don't panic I learned what to do in case this happens. Your supposed to shoot up into the air three times and someone will hear you and come with help,"
"Okay" said Burney. So he shoots three times into the air. They both wait an hour and no one shows up. So they shoot three times again and still no one shows up. Bewildered they try this again and again for the next couple of hours.
Rex starts to look a little worried, then he shouts "It better work this time, we’re down to our last three arrows!"
Rex and Jones were dragging their dead deer back to their car. Paul approached pulling his deer along too.
"Hey, I don't want to tell you how to do something ... but I can tell you that it's much easier if you drag the deer in the other direction. Then the antlers won't dig into the ground."
After Paul left, the two decided to try it.
A little while later Rex said to Jones, "You know, that Paul was right. This is a lot easier!"
"Yeah, but we're getting farther from the truck," Jones added
Hershel Howell was recently stopped by a game warden at the Famous Christmas Place Wet Hook Club recently with two buckets of fish leaving the lake well known for its fishing. The game warden asked him, "Do you have a license to catch those fish?"
He replied to the game warden, "No, sir. These are my pet fish."
"Pet fish?!" the warden replied.
"Yes, sir. Every night I take these fish down to the lake and let them swim around for a while. I whistle and they jump back into their buckets, and I take em home."
"That's a bunch of hooey! Fish can't do that!"
Hershel looked at the game warden for a moment, and then said, "Here, I'll show you. It really works."
"O.K. I've GOT to see this!" the game warden replied.
He then poured the fish into the water and stood and waited. After several minutes, the game warden turned to Hershel and said, "Well?"
"Well, what?" Mr. Howell asked.
"When are you going to call them back?" the game warden prompted.
"Call who back?" he asked.
"The FISH."
"What fish?" he asked.

A Good Reason to Blog

NoSand, MS> I read a lot of the big time blogs. Lots of information on the War in Iraq, hardships they suffer and the loneliness of being thousands of miles from home. You think of them as heroes,soldiers doing their job, relentless and tireless.
Then it occurred to me what would I be thinking about if I was over there. Mom and Dad, Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays, interaction between my siblings, my children, my fiancee’, lots of things crossed my mind.
I also knew another thing I would want to hear about. The thought came to me about the soldiers raised here in the south and what they wanted to hear about. Hunting which is a large part of the upbringing of almost everyone born here and the fun and simple life at their deer camp or the fun stories of great or funny hunts shared around a fire. The great big buck their buddy took and the one that snuck up on their brother and got away. Tricks to get a deer, letting the monster buck get away with egg on your face, cold frosty mornings when the crackle of a deer walking in the leaves makes the blood race.
Looking at your friends face in the early morning light as a big gobbler cuts loose just up the ridge, a gunshot that is probably Uncle Joe or your Dad. How many did they get? What is the story behind them? Maybe the famous Christmas Place will be a place to visit on the web that will make their hearts light and hopeful that the woods are full of deer and turkeys, and the potholes are full of ducks. I hope that anyone reading this will send the link to a soldier, maybe the stories will make him laugh, or just remember a perfect day hunting with family and friends

Monday, March 20, 2006

The First Monster Buck

Beefybuck,MS> Not long after we bought the famous Christmas Place Plantation Hunting Club, we were in a frenzy to hunt and explore all of the vast area to find the best spots for trophy deer. I tricked my brother into letting me go into an area that no one had gone before. It was one of those days when the sky turns red just at sunset and I was busy admiring the view when the 8 ft. Johnson grass around the field moved and a big set of antlers moved toward the field. Yikes! Right behind it a gigantic set of antlers moved through the grass too! The two deer stepped into the field and though both were large, the 2nd deer was a giant and the first monster I had ever had that close. My heart was beating so loud, I knew they could hear me. The deer was about 30 yards as I eased my hand toward my bow. The monster looked at me! My blood froze. I looked at my bow out of the corner of my eye and it occurred to me that I might not have enough firepower. The deer turned away from me and ambled out of the field. Later, still shaken, I got down and inspected his tracks to make sure I was not imagining things.
A week went by and that Saturday afternoon found me on the stand again. The sky was the same red tint and I was ready. I keenly watched the area where the deer had come out. You know, deer are sneaky and never repeat themselves.
I ignored the rustling to my left as squirrels but then casually glanced that way. The gigantic buck leaped, leapt, anyway the damn thing jumped into the field 20 yards from me. I managed to get my bow and pull it back by concentrating on the side of the monster “don’t look at the horns, don’t look at the horns” the arrow shot out of my bow, the buck jumped and ran. Later I found blood on the arrow, left this note for my brother and the whole family found him later that night. It took four of us to drag it out and get it on a four wheeler! The gigantic 8-point weighed in at 268lbs. Paul kept the note, framed it, and gave it to me for Christmas that year. A great night and the start of a wonderful hunting adventure.

The Haunted Graveyard

Poe, MS> On the backside of the dark and stormy Christmas Place Hunting Club an old road leads up into the hills and ends at a small, forgotten graveyard deep in the woods. Some brave souls have hunted near this area, but none for very long. Stange sounds and dark movement of a tortured soul is reported from that area. Hunters passing the eerie grave before day feel an unimaginable terror as they pass the lonesome grave and a wave of cold is felt emanating from the spot. Those brave enough to hunt up there in the afternoons always leave their stand before dark and hurry pass the cursed burial ground. No one wants to be there after the sun goes down. One irate member said “You can’t get a decent shot at a deer up there for the damn ghost moaning, rattling chains, swirling around and in general raising hell and getting in the way.”
Who is buried there and why?
The Bodock Times is preparing a members-night-out séance at the haunted site and want all the children to attend. Please email the Bodock Times with your confirmation.

Rainy Day Turkey

Cluckblood, MS> A sheet of rain swept across the open field as the duo of natural born killers set up their blind at the Double WhiteOak Field. They were not dressed for wet weather and it had also turned cold. Thirty minutes later Michael was freezing to death and they had heard no reply to their calls. Time dragged on, Michael was shaking, Paul said thirty more minutes. He tried clucks, he tried long calls, and finally tried a gobble but to no avail. They gathered up their decoy and gear and headed out. They slipped up the road with Paul in the lead as they reached the Stupid Field. Paul glanced left. A big gobbler was strutting in the edge of the field! There were turkeys everywhere! He motioned for Michael to get down and squatted below the slight rise leading into the field. He carefully moved to the edge of the woods with Michael in front of him and eased his call out. A couple of chirps made the turkeys ease to him and down the edge of the road. A nice young gobbler stepped over the crest. Michael took careful aim. BOOM! The turkey flipped. BOOM! The turkey lay still. The gobbler weighed 15lbs. with a 7 inch beard. Congratulations to Michael on his first turkey and a successful wet weather hunt. Paul was the proudest Dad around, but he remembers the big one strutting in the field and will get him later.

Friday, March 17, 2006

The Picture of Dorian Deer

DrunkPicasso, MS> Kim Jones wanted to come to camp. Yes, unfortunately she is the wife of the famous doe wounder, Greg Jones. Anyway, she wanted to be a part of the fun and do some serious photography also. She asked us for a good spot to get a picture of a deer.
Paul had been hunting the Gamewarden Stand for the last three weeks without seeing a deer and told her what a great spot it was and how the deer were all in there and she would probably run out of film taking pictures of all the deer she saw. He even offered to take here over and help her get on the stand. As you can guess, his fate was sealed.
An hour later she and her son Kyle were drawn to a loud chewing noise and looked straight down and out the front window of the box where a gigantic buck was chomping on corn and grass 20 yards in front of them. Strangely, the deer seemed to pose as she shot picture after picture. The deer meandered around in front of here for a couple of hours, then wandered off as it got dark.
She hurried back to camp and showed the pictures! Paul had a sick green tinge to him as he looked over the giant 13 pointer. Trent had a strange throbbing start in his neck that made his whole face turn red. These two grabbed Kim, duct tape and a rubber hose to get more info from her, but luckily she was saved by Hershel before it got out of hand.
This is not the end of the story as you can tell by the picture. Many people have seen the giant deer. Trent, Burney and Hershel have each shot at it with no success. Each time someone shoots at Dorian we check the picture. The picture was originally perfect but has changed as the deer grew older and was shot at more and more times. It is now twisted and barely viewable to see the horns. The deer gets bigger and the picture of Dorian Deer gets worse. Sometimes, it is hell to have to hunt here with all the damn supernatural crap going on. So, hunt here at your own risk. and if you see Dorian don’t even waste a shot.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

The Legend of the Black Buck Lives on

Melanistic whitetails are very rare, even more rare than piebald or albino deer. You can recognize a melanistic deer because their bodies produce far too much of the pigment known as melanin which makes them much darker than your average whitetail. Of the millions of deer taken each year only a few with melanism have been reported. Most people don't know they exist due to the extreme rarity, making a melonistic buck a true trophy.
We do not know the lady holding the deer, but the deer looks familiar.
(The Christmas Place has a giant Black Buck reported to roam the Odom Field area. This article proves without a doubt that it is true.)

My Favorite Year

Thornyhorns, MS> Rex Howell, well known Buckmaster of the famous Christmas Place Giant Buck Club recounts another of the large bucks he has taken off the club in an exclusive interview with The Bodock Times.
Rex Howell (Lord of the Buck) sat quietly at the Dove Field when he felt the rumble in the ground. The earth shook as the mighty and terrible buck emerged. It shook its’ huge antlers, knocking over trees and began harassing the field of spellbound does. The Buckmaster sat quietly, even as the afternoon sun shining on the massive antlers almost blinded him. He waited, the moment came, and Rex calmly placed the bullet in the vital area and claimed another trophy. Rex made his dad load the 191/2 inch spread monster who only said “You’ve got a problem” as they headed to camp to spread warmth and cheer with his swell friends at the happy and comradely Christmas Place . This was Rexs’ third and biggest deer of the year, while the poor losers of the club hadn’t killed jack crap. Rex rushed into the camp and yelled :”I killed a giant moose at the Dove Field!” Everyone froze. It grew quiet as they stared at him. A cricket chirped loudly, a bee buzzed by. He shouted “Did you not hear me? I killed the biggest deer in nine counties at the Dove Field!" Absolute stunned silence followed. Rex yelled “Come look at his giant antlers!” No one moved, Not a sound. Then like a dam bursting someone screamed “Grab Him! Get a Rope!” and an angry mob attacked him. The unassuming Buckmaster escaped with his life still not understanding what had set the poor deluded fools off, but decided that he would retire from deer hunting for the rest of the year.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

How to Beat Bebo at Golf

We played golf with my cousin Bebo this weekend. For some reason, everyone in Mississippi knows him. He is the Oxford pro, sports fanatic, umpire, referee, famous eater and well known duck killer. Beating Bebo playing golf is kind of like Jones killing a deer, occassionally it happens,but everyone knows it is a miracle. Sometimes you just have to out-think your opponent.
Rounding the 6th hole I turned the talk to turkeys which Bebo had never hunted and how much he would enjoy it. Bebo launched another massive drive out of sight and agreed. Inspiration struck me! I told Bebo that shooting a turkey was like shooting twelve mallards, all at the same time. His eyes kind of glazed over. (Everyone knows duck people are crazy) After that he never fully recovered and we pulled out a hard fought win in the match.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006


Tripleloads, MS> Turkey season opens saturday at the famed Christmas Place Hunting Club and Turkey Shoot. Hershel spotted 20 on the north end of the property last week and we are sure that Paul is scouting diligently as we write. The fields look great with plenty of turkey sign in them. Is this the year that young Michael Howell gets his first turkey? We will see. Hershel has a blind behind every tree and guest be careful not to shoot the new apple trees in the fields.
Mark Stewart is coming down and will give another damn oration on how he killed the big deer at the Crossover. Jeeesh! Rex and his kids will be repairing old stands with Marks' kids.
Trent will be practicing golf as usual. Look for a lot of shooting and some big old gobblers on the pole this weekend!

The Great Tennis Shoe Caper

Hitchcock, MS> The editor of the Bodock Times has been made aware of a strange and mysterious conspiracy that started with the disappearance of a single pair of white tennis shoes. The investigation into the mystery has brought to light a bizarre and diabolical plot aimed at destroying Golf, Deer Hunting, and the Famous Christmas Place Plantation Hunting Club.
1.- Deep in a hidden room at Pepsi Headquarters (with ties to the Disney cartel) a meeting takes place between Mafia boss, Gino Hamboni (Teamster Shill), Joshua C. Hoardabuck (Pepsi Capo and 18 handicapper) along with two shady Mississippi lawyers only known as Mr. Rich and Mr. Bitch. All have similar interest to discuss.
The Capo has never hunted at the Christmas Place, even though he is from Gulfport and everyone from there has hunted there at least once. The lawyers blamed Rex Howell (devious social director)
Gino has never played golf at the Water Valley golf course or hunted at the Famous Christmas Place even though the golf club was supplied with a Pepsi machine (now broken) and blamed Rex Howell (lying 12 handicapper) and Coke drinker.
The two lawyers were involved in an expensive land scam at the Christmas Place and blamed Rex Howell (crooked real estate agent) for their financial problems.
After whiskey, cigars and handshakes a call is made to a man only known as Mr. Dew.
2.- Rex Howell (friend to all and father of numerous small children) discovers that his new white tennis shoes (size 11)have been stolen from underneath his bed at the famous Christmas Place. These were replaced by similar shoes (size 9 ½).
You know that shoe size often reflects upon other sizes. He calls Memphis.
3.-Mark Stewart, jealous 14 handicapper, teamster thug, post office employee, former guest at Water Valley Municipal Golf Links until his false promises of a new Pepsi machine were revealed., ½ owner of a four wheeler with Rex Howell (bought with $4000 in quarters rumored to have come from a broken Pepsi machine), answers the phone. In a heated argument denies stealing the shoes and suggest that someone took them for a walk. He hangs up, smiles, then the man known as Mr. Dew heads out for some Texas golf.
4.- FBI investigates a man seen hitting golfballs with an 8-iron at striking UPS employees from a grassy knoll near the Hunting Book Depository. He escapes but clues left are 2titleist golf balls (cut), a Buckmasters magazine with Rexs’ picture circled, a six pack of empty Coke cans and a new tennis shoe (size 11) FBI follow him to Memphis now joined by the US Golf Association, Dept of Wildlife, and hit men from Coca-Cola. The Dew man heads south into Mississippi. Adds littering and interstate flight to his list of crimes
5.- Meanwhile Christmas Place golfers are blamed for UPS strike, destroying Pepsi merchandise, and running a Deer Hunting Parlor without a license. Hordes of protestors (union workers) descend on Christmas Place (no one gets a cold Pepsi)
Coke hit men laugh (ha-ha). Dept of Wildlife arrest crazed land baron Hershel Howell, blame him for Kennedy assassination and littering. The USGA link the shoes to Rex Howell and charge him with erasing a scorecard, doctoring his handicap, driving a golf cart without a license. Coca-Cola hit men and Dept of Wildlife cordon of Christmas Place.
The two evil lawyers move in for the kill.
6.-Rex Howell escapes bogey forces on 4 wheeler and traps Dew Man aka Mark Stewart near Tchula after scattering quarters along Hwy 49. FBI and Rex Howell drag this terrorist off to the clink. He is slapped on wrist and given promotion in US Post Office to AB-2 (armbreaker second class) by his Union thug buddies. Christmas Place makes him hunt with Professor.
Coke hit men release H. Howell after learning lawyers refuse them hunting rights. H. Howell beats hell out of two slimy lawyers, bans them to Eastgate area.
Thirsty Eco-Crazies storm Pepsi headquarters, demand refund from busted Pepsi machine. Dept of Wildlife disappear after Thunderhoof destroys their vehicles.
7.-Rex Howell awarded Medal of Valor from Coke, UPS, and Buckmasters Magazine. along with a new pair of tennis shoes (size 11)
All of Gulfport is banned permanently from hunting privileges and J. Hoardabuck has handicap raised to 24 and given lifetime ban from Water Valley golf club. All this over a single pair of tennis shoes!

Giant Killer Snake Defies Bulldozer

Anaconda, MS> (#21)Hershel Howell, noted naturalist and environmentalist, reported the presence of a giant copperhead snake on the mountain at the Famous Christmas Place today. He said “ I parked my four wheeler at the field when I saw this giant 8-foot copperhead peacefully lumbering past me. Well, I immediately picked up a stick and started whacking the hell out of it. The damn thing then coiled up and started trying to bite me for no reason at all. I called for backup, and soon a D-6 Bulldozer was parked and ready to crush the vicious thing. I continued throwing logs in it’s direction and whacking at it with the stick as I climbed on the bulldozer. Then, for no reason at all, it started trying to bite me and the bulldozer. After that things get fuzzy but we spent a lot of time whacking at the snake, tearing up the forest and trying to crush the snake at $85 per hour. Horribly, the snake finally eluded us and escaped!” “To top it off the bulldozer people sent me a bill for $510 for no reason at all.”

Monday, March 13, 2006

Saturday, March 11, 2006

The da Burney Code

Burney Howell was on Pauls’ stand. He was hunting hard. His snores undulated down through the pines until the gentle rustle of antlers in the brush, or a thunderous deer snort, or maybe a squirrel ran down his arm, anyway he awoke. It was late in the morning and no deer. He figured he had better head back to camp for some lunch and a nap. He climbed out of the stand and for some reason glanced left to the edge of the field and noticed an unusual white stone sticking out of the dirt. He hesitated, then wandered over and pulled the stone out. He brushed it off and that is when he noticed strange markings. He carefully wiped the stone off and studied it. Strange hieroglyphics and what seemed to be a map!
He rushed back to camp! He grabbed Bobby and showed him the strange stone. The writing was unintelligible but the trail on the map lead up to the edge of the Christmas Place property, crossed the main road and lead into a wooded area that had a large X and giant antlers drawn in. It must be the map to the secret deer honey-hole for the whole delta! Bobby and Burney danced excitedly and headed into the next room. Paul was cleaning the camp by screaming at the kids to get busy. Burney asked Paul if he knew anything about the property north of the place and Paul answered “No, but 20 acres is for sale up there.” Bobby and Burney looked at each other and left quickly after throwing the stone on the top bunk. Thirty minutes later they came back with the deed to the property! Burney and Bobby went out to the fire and began quietly plotting their deer strategy. Paul wandered into the bunkroom, picked up the stone, shook his head and held the stone up to the mirror. The backward writing became legible. It said (Burney, you are an idiot. signed Paul.) He threw the stone down, smiled and went back to cleaning the camp. That is how Bobby and Burney bought their land at the Christmas Place.

Friday, March 10, 2006

The Witchs' House

Gingerbread, MS> On the grounds of the eerie and desolate Christmas Place Hunting Grounds is an old home, rotted and abandoned, that for years has only been known as the Witchs’ House to all the local inhabitants of the delta marshes.
After having my hunting interrupted to file report after report on missing hunters, the area around this terrifying place was placed off limits to all hunting. The children at the club swear that if you go by it at night, you can hear strange chanting and the flickering of lights inside. Sometimes a horrible scream rends into the darkness, or horrible weeping and moaning can be heard. My research into the annals of the Christmas Place reveal that it was the original home of THE WITCH OF YAZOO. This horrible witch captured, killed and ate many people who traveled the road to Yazoo City until an angry mob killed her by drowning in the pond across the road from the home. Before she died, she cursed Yazoo City (which very promptly burned to the ground) She also said that her spirit would haunt the land and return to taste the flesh of any man, woman, or child that came near the house at the full of the moon.
She said “they taste like chicken”
Most members here have found that a good threat to throw an unruly child through a dark window of the house can do wonders for their attitude.
So, all guest or visitors, beware of the Witchs’ House
PS: Trent does Last Will and Testaments , $65 while you wait.



Thursday, March 09, 2006

The White Spectre of Doom!

Voodoo, MS> On the mist shrouded bluffs of the famous Christmas Place Kabala Club there is a harbinger of bad tidings and bad luck in the form of a terrifying albino skunk that lurks around the property spreading pain and woe to whatever hapless hunter happens to cross its’ path. The last victim was Trent Howell, former great shot, typical ambulance chaser, and
former unbeliever in the evil eye. Most lawyers do not believe in the evil eye, considering they are usually the bad luck sign themselves. The evil creature usually is seen by the victim within a day of the horrific curse taking form. Mr. Howell ran across this pink eyed albino devil near his stand just before his confused and doomed attempt to take a gigantic buck known as Old Mossy Horns.
The demon spawned skunk darted out from under a log and stared at him until Mr. Howell felt his blood freeze from its’ cold, evil, pink gaze. Shaken, and trembling with foreboding he staggered to his stand after the vicious apparition melted into the twisting shadows. Bravely he controlled his trembling hands and waited for the deer to appear.
The large buck finally wandered near Trents’ stand below the Turkey Feather .The size of his horns shining in the mist shrouded hollow and the feeling of calamity inspired by the albino devil made the usually unflappable lawyer panic. He cut down on the monster.
Bam, Wham, Zing! The monster buck yawned.
Bam, Pow, Ka-Ching! The gigantic buck wandered off.
Spots of blood found later seemed to have skunk tracks in them.
Trent returned to camp a broken man., and spent the next day moaning in his bed “Those Eyes! Oh! Those Eyes!” The Skunk survived with no ill effects and is living near the bridge now. Several brave and enthusiastic members have volunteered to find the animal and put it in Pauls’ bunk.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

The Poisoned Blue Hole

Quackerville,MS> The backside of the lake at the
famous Christmas Place Hunting Club has a small
duck hole, known as the blue hole. (like all small duck holes)
Thus began one of the worst duck atrocities committed in recent
history as Paul (last Buffalo) Howell and Joe (not me) Savage
crept to the edge in the foggy darkness. Just as it was light
enough to see, the ducks started spiraling straight down at them
between the high ridges surrounding the hole. The shooting sounded like machine gun fire as volleys of red flame swept the bluffs. Duck feathers floated everywhere.
Investigators later observed that none escaped.
Everyone at camp got their limit! Even the people who slept in. Every stumphole between the Blue Hole and camp was stuffed with ducks! A year later no ducks have ever returned to this hole, and investigators from the MDWFP, EPA, Ducks Unlimited, SPCA, and PETA (Mississippi Loon Branch) were called in and reported that the blue hole was red and filled with duck feathers and carcasses of many unknown and unlucky creatures caught in the crossfire. Further investigation determined that a high lead content was present in the water and the nesting ground of the great blue heron had been destroyed (as they had had the hell shot out of them too). Paul and Joey have been undaunted by the affair and hope to pollute a major river or lake somewhere in the future.
They have their own recipe for ducks.
1. Shoot 1000 ducks
2. cut tongues out
3. throw carcass in clear stream
4. cooks tongues at 300 C in lemon sauce
5. eat with roast bald eagle (YUM, YUM)

Ode to The Oscars

Politically Correct, MS> After the Oscars got their just
deserts, And did not even nominate the best picture of the year for the best picture category, I thought I would share a recent song I heard while we were all skinning deer. I had gone to get another sharp knife when I heard Mr. Jones singing in the shower.

I’ll Hunt ‘Ol Droptine
(Tune of I’LL WALK THE LINE- Johnny Cash)

I keep a close watch on this trail of mine
I hunt the fields ‘cause I am blind
I keep the safety off all the time
Because you’re mine, I’ll hunt ‘Ol Droptine

I find it very, very easy to be true
I find myself alone at the pole when each days through
Yes, I’ll admit that I’m a fool for you
Because you’re mine, I’ll hunt ‘Ol Droptine.

As sure as Paul is dark and Rex is light
I keep you on my mind both day and night
And hopelessness, I’ve known proves that it’s right
Because you’re mine, I’ll hunt ‘Ol Droptine.

You’ve got a way to keep me after your hide
You trick me when I go outside.
For you, I know I’ll take Rex being snide
Because you’re mine, I’ll hunt ‘Ol Droptine

I keep a close watch on this gun of mine
I’m gonna pop a cap in your behind
I keep a sharp knife in my lonely blind
Because you’re mine, I’ll hunt ‘Ol Droptine

In other news, Mr. Jones’ son Tyler took his first deer and
saved the family honor. He was hunting on the point stand
and had recently let a nice 10 point go. (Guest have to
shoot a doe first) He had a couple of great hunts and was
a lot of fun. Congratulations

Tuesday, March 07, 2006


Wet Booty, MS> Rex Howell moved into the Pond Stand that Sunday, even after being warned by Burney of strange amphibious type deer reported in the area. The stand is on the levee of a hidden pond deep in the woods of the famous Christmas Place Bass and Buck Club. It was cold and clear that morning and at eight o'clock the sound of running feet through the crisp leaves caught his attention. He turned around just in time to see the large 9-point (large by his standards) buck leap off the levee and land with a loud splash in the pond. SPLASH! Rex being the calm, cool hunter he is, immediately panicked as the deer made like a porpoise through the calm water. The horns were throwing up a wake! He was getting away! BAM! A shot rang out and when the smoke cleared the deer had disappeared, as if it had never been there. The water grew calm. Rex was perplexed. Dawning comprehension and Rex thought "oh, s**t, what do I do now?" The deer had gone under in the exact center of the pond which was fast beginning to look like a lake. He got down, there was only one thing to do. He took off all his clothes and bare naked he waded into the water. It got to his knees. It was freezing! He could go no further! He bellowed and ran out of the water. He ran naked up and down the bank flapping his arms and making strange gurgling noises as he tried to get circulation going in his frozen limbs. He dried off on his clothes and finally thought for a minute. He had to get the deer. He waded back in. The water got up to his thighs, his legs were turning blue, certain parts of his anatomy were blue too. He screamed, he staggered out of the water, he ran up and down the bank. He got dressed and went for help. No one was at camp, Leaving a note he got waders and returned to the pond, he waded in. The water got deeper and deeper, it went over his waders. He screamed again. He flew out of the water, took his waders off, left his gear and headed to camp again and finally located a little boat that pulled along behind the four wheeler and back to the pond he went. He put the boat in the water and threw in a cane pole. Wet and pissed off, Rex poles to center of lake, takes his bearings and starts probing with the pole. Miraculously he jabs the deer, he starts rolling it until it floats up enough to grab. Drags deer in boat. Hershel and Trent drive up. Useless now. They make fun of him. They all head to camp. Another fish, er deer on the pole!

Monday, March 06, 2006

Sows' Ear to Silk Purse

Mr. Jones and I have dabbled in the unlucrative field of home renovation. A lot of hard work with a small return. I am awfully proud of this wreck that turned out beautifully.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

The Apple Conspiracy

SevenDwarves, Ms> Last weekend was spent planting fruit trees all over the world renowned Christmas Place Orchard. 14 fields had trees planted in them by Rex and Hershel. Rex did the digging, Hershel handled the pointing where to put them. During the planting Hershel would comment “ Put that stick, over there or throw that log over there” and follow this by “there’s my turkey blind over there” or “did you see my turkey blind beside that tree”
After four fields this started to seem strange.
All fields planted had a turkey blind right beside
where the trees were planted! Very strange! Could the tree planting be a strange conspiracy involving
killing turkeys? Yes! There are no coincidences involving Hershel. Another backbreaking weekend,
But Hershel seemed happy. The last thing he said
Was “thanks, looks like I’m ready for turkey season, now get the hell out of here so the trees can grow” First the deer and Thunderhoof and now our fine feathered friends, the turkeys. His diabolical plans know no boundaries.

Friday, March 03, 2006


Abbeville, MS> (as told by Hershel Howell) I was hunting in a hickory tree just north of Abbeville, on the edge of a big pasture. The woods along the edge were covered in big deer sign, the area was undisturbed and I knew that I had a really good chance to kill a big buck with my bow if I could wait him out.
Unfortunately, or so I thought, several large cows came into that part of the pasture at daybreak, including one gigantic black bull with horns about 3 feet wide. The cows were making racket, and the bull was bellowing and I figured there was no way I would even see a deer that morning. About that time a huge buck jumped over the barb wire and into the pasture just out of bow range. This buck pawed the ground and shook his horns in the direction of the bull. The bull had eyed the deer
then gave a large bellow, and lowered it’s head to charge.
The buck met him halfway. The buck was over two hundred pounds, but the bull was over 600 lbs., you do the math.
They met head-on and there was a terrific clash of antlers and horns and the buck was flipped over four or five times, but got up and came back for more. They met again. Another terrible blow and the big buck was knocked to his knees. The bull wasted no time and charged after the deer. Around the corner and down the fence line they ran out of sight.
I heard them ram heads again, and the sound of the fence being knocked down. Fence post being knocked over and wire popping. Then it got quiet. a few minutes later the big bull waltzed back out in front of me covered in scratches and bleeding a little. Then a loud snort, and every cow in the pasture looked back the way the deer went (me too). Then every cow took off! The bull froze. Then the big buck appeared running straight at the bull. His horns were wrapped in barb wire and he had three or four fence post hanging from his massive antlers. I imagine it was a terrible sight for the bull to see. The bulls eyes got big as saucers! The bull took off! The buck was right behind him and that was the last I ever saw of him, though there were some peculiar looking calves in that pasture the next spring!

Friday Camp Blogging

This is a good time to post photos that give insight or background on the infamous Christmas Place Hole in the Wall. We do not do Cat Blogging but this post will show a little scenery and some insights into the workings of this notorious gang of outlaws and Robber Barons.
Michael got his first buck. This goes to show that some people shoot deer and some people wash dishes.
A beautiful view of the lake

Rituals of manhood
Bringing the kids along, sharing in the great tradition of hunters, enjoying life, fellowship, laughter, and nature, this is what it is all about.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Jugging with Jughead

Mudturtle, MS> This picture recently turned up in our NSA wiretapping files on the evildoers at the Christmas Place Rod and Net Club. Burney "Jughead" Howell is showing off a couple of large bluecats caught in the lake. Asked about it, He stated "these are just going to be bait" Burney says he is going after the big mojos at the bottom of the lake. Kind of like this WORLD RECORD 646LB. CATFISH.


Boiling blood, MS> Hershel Howell had suffered a long season without killing a deer, without even suspecting one in fact. He decided to return home and relax for a few days and not even think about deer hunting. He was dozing in front of a large fire with his dog when the phone rang. Burney said "I got a big deer at the Dove Field, get down here quick!" Hershel snored, "Congratulations" and went back to sleep. A few minutes later the phone rang, it was Rex, who said "Dad!, I got a big 8- point at the Spike Camp, grab your gun and come on" Hershel replied "Wow! That's great, Congratulations."
Later, while working in the garden, the phone rang!. It was Trent, who said " I got a big 11 point at the Odom Field, come help me! He replied "Con- gra" Paul rushed in " I got a nine point with a drop tine at the box field! Hershel squinted his eyes and said "@$$%$T@$@%^^&*" "Con-gra-tu-la-tions, Dammit"
Early the next morning Hershel was almost asleep talking to his dog and the phone rang again. It was Burney. He said " I got a giant black buck weighing 255 lbs. off the Gamewarden Stand!
Hershel mumbled incoherently and slammed the phone down. Hershel was puttering around the house later when the phone rang again! Trent said " I got a big one at the Secret Field!" Hershel staggered, kicked the Christmas Tree over, slammed the phone down. He was wide awake.
The next morning the phone rang. Hershel carefully answered it. Trent said " Whooo-Hooo Mercy! I got another giant deer off the Indian Mound! A 17 inch 8 point. Yahoo!!! Hershel slammed the phone down, ripped the cord out of the wall. He cursed the Republicans! Smoke came out of his ears! He loaded his rifle! He grabbed his dog! He headed South.
At camp Trent and Paul were lounging around the pole. Dad pulled up and got out. Paul said "glad you're here, skin these three bucks, Trent and I have to get back to the woods!" Hershels hat flew off his head! He said, Well I won't say what he said! Hershel headed for the Arrowhead Field at a run! Good thing a deer did not jump in front of him as he raced at 50 mph towards his stand. He kept mumbling "I pity the fool, I pity the fool"
Hershel was awake. His gun was loaded. Red fire shown from his eyes as a huge buck stepped from the woods. Did Hershel count the horns? HELL NO! He started blasting. He threw his knive! He threw his boot! Finally, he calmed down and reloaded. He found the big 8-pointer.
He went back to camp. He rushed inside! He said " I got a monster at the Arrowhead Field and I want everyone of you @#$#%#&^%&$** to go get him! He had a drink. All was right with the world again.

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

CrossHairs Philosophy

In the movie, Blondie stood over the grave and said "in this world, there's two kinds of people. People with guns and people who dig. You dig! My brother, Paul, the evil coast lawyer is saying crap like that all the time (especially during deer season) So here are a few of the witty things he thinks he says.
There are two kinds of people..........
1. those that kill mules and those that wish they could.
2. those that hang mules on the pole and those that skin them.
3. those that kill all the mules and those that hunt with Burney.
4. mule killers and dish washers
5. those that blast mules and those who are pitiful
6. those with big antlers on their pole and those that have little bitty.....
7. killing mules is an art form, I am Leonardo of the mule shooters. You are nothing!
8. I feel a mule coming on!
9. to be a mule shooter, you must be rich or crazy. I am both! Bwahahahahah.

In the midst of his ramblings can be heard these witticisms
1. the only good buck is a dead one I have on the pole!
2. Raise the mule limit! Raise the mule limit!
3. To be a great deer hunter, you have to be me! HAHAHAHAHA!
4. so many mules, so little time
5. serve me you peasants!
6. the mules are mine by divine right as pharoh of the delta!
7. It's hard to make up a rhyme for mule.
8. I am so modest it scares me!
9. cut the timber, plant the fields, shoot the mules, mush, mush!
10. There's no hunting, like mule hunting, like no hunting I know........

if you do not understand that mules are trophy whitetail bucks please go here and stay there.

Buckmaster to Blogmaster

Camp Blogging
Wiredville, MS> Now that I have become a rich and successful blogger it is time to share my knowledge of blogging to the rest of you. Kind of like Joe Black after a week of playing golf suddenly thought he was Arnold Palmer.
The first thing you do is decide on a theme. No one wants to hear your day to day humdrum crap. Second you have to use the lingo. This includes using the word blog, blogger or blogging as much as possible. Example "what's the blog, dude" or "check you at the blog" then there's the mixed word examples "blogeriffic" or "bloggerfied" etc. In hunting you can say "That's some big blogging horns" or "Where did you blog that monster" and "Holy Crap! What a blogging deer! No one at the camp knows what I am talking about of course but it confuses them anyway. Another thing is you start throwing other words in the mix like HTML, source code, URL's or blogads. Now you are ready to move to the next level and start talking about the great bloggers as if you know them. Talk about your buddies the Puppyblender, Michelle Malkin, (who's hot as a firecracker and always P.O. ed) Ace and WuzzaDem. Link to Drudge and those always eager Ankle Bitiing Pundits. To really impress people casually mention the boys at Powerline . You will need to start a Word or Note file to keep addresses and thoughts in. Check you balance at Adsense to keep up with the truckloads of cash accruing in your account. Trick people into looking at your site via email after attaching your URL to the post Congratulations, see you in the blogging bahamas.