When we were still kids, we hunted near the small town of Abbeville in North Mississippi. As we reached our early teenage years, the deer herd had expanded and our hunting areas started to change. 20 miles toward home, my Dad had found the sign of a big buck along the Yocona River just south of Oxford. This area was pretty remote and undisturbed. This was a perfect place to hunt if you could just find the time. He built a stand, then started hunting near our camp and forgot about it. He forgot about it until he really needed it.
The season had wound down to the very last day and just about everyone had taken a deer. Everyone that is, except my brother Paul. Paul was moping around the camp crying and weeping that he had not taken a deer and the season was over. Dad talked to him and tried to reassure him that it didn’t matter, when the thought of the stand he had built popped into his mind. He told Paul that they would hunt that afternoon. They would stop on the way home and he could hunt on the River Stand and to not give up.
Later that afternoon they walked deep into the swamp and got Paul situated. Dad, then told Paul he would make a couple of big loops and hopefully a deer would move his way. He trudged off and started a big slow circle. Walking, watching and waiting, he found a big log, and sat down to wait a little while.
He thought about Paul and how much he wanted him to get a deer and whispered "Lord, please help that boy get a deer" He was answered by a loud gunshot "BLAM!", then "BLAM" again. He hurried to Paul and yelled "Did you get him?" "Yes sir"
"He's on the other side of the river!" The big buck had leaped into the river and just made it to the far side as it died. A big, big 9-point that took a trip wading the river to get out. A magnificent trophy prayed up for Paul.
As you can tell, another reason he is spoiled rotten.