Hamburg, MS> Several years ago, Hershel Howell (noted slave driver, Thunderhoof seeker, workaholic and retired gentleman farmer) studied the land at Natchez for a good place to hunt.
His legs hurt and moving stands at 70 years old was not as fun as it once was. He asked his oldest son to help him. Trent replied "No, you need to hunt one of those box stands" He asked his next child. Paul said "No, I'm too busy blasting deer, maybe next year" Hershel would have asked Rex but he already had him working in a salt mine somewhere. He got his four wheeler, tied a stand to the rear and took off! The west side of the property was little hunted and he found a scrape on the ridge, spent half the day worrying his stand into position and went back to camp to rest. His sons tried to talk him out of hunting there the next day, saying he had left too much scent in the woods. He promptly told them to all go to hell and leave him alone. He got on the stand. It wasn't long till he saw the horns emerge from the woods and got ready. The horns were nice but the deer looked small. He deliberated and before he was ready, the gun went off!
BLAM! The deer took off too!. I will give Paul credit, he can track a deer and spent the rest of the day tracking it until he and dad met up on the side of a ridge after losing the blood trail.
They started talking, when Paul saw the buck start easing up the other side of the ridge just over dads left shoulder. "Shoot" he yelled as the deer changed gears. Dad whirled, aimed and at the last second shot the running deer. A great shot under the circumstances, and the last real use we have had for Paul in ten years.
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