When my son was 14, he and I deer hunted every chance we got; while Matt, his best friend, stayed at home because his dad had zero interest in hunting. We had a bit of hunting land leased in Oglethorpe County, GA at the time; and my son convinced me that it was my responsibility to become Matt's hunting mentor and that I should include him on our already planned Sunday afternoon hunt. It was our custom in those days to hunt from an elevated tree stand, but Matt had never been deer hunting prior to this trip, so hadn't a clue as to the concept of deer stands; but as soon as he saw my stand-up/sit-down climbing contraption, it was immediately obvious that the boy was terrified at the very thought; and no amount of salesmanship would ever convince him otherwise. So I had no choice except to place Matt on my permanent ladder stand, the very stand I'd planned to use that afternoon; and when Matt was safely secured therein, I trekked back to the climbing stand I'd initially reserved for Matt. As I climbed the tree, I heard a shot; and as you would expect by now, that shot came from Matt. Concerned for the safety of this novice hunter, I climbed back down the tree and retraced my steps to insure Matt was OK; but one can only imagine my surprise as I arrived on the scene to find Matt standing over a very dead 6-pt. piebald buck! In all my years of deer hunting I've never seen a piebald deer in the wild to this very day; and believe me when I tell you it was very difficult to make those obligatory congratulations sound sincere and genuine. So after all the that-a-boys and pats on the back, it eventually became time to get down to business and field dress Matt's buck. So I sez to Brother Matt; "Well son, I guess if you're old enough to kill a deer; then you're certainly old enough to handle the field dressing". Matt's face turned ashen, as he had certainly not prepared himself in advance; or even considered the possibility of such a chore. But I insisted that it was his obligation as a responsible hunter to make sure this fine game animal was properly cared for; and further explained, in terms I knew a teen could understand, that unless he wanted to walk home he'd be wise to get his deer gutted! Don't know that I've ever seen a kid so squeamish about a little gore; but this little guy started heaving before he'd even made the first cut. But forever the cheerleader, I continued to "encourage" the kid; and, if I'm honest, may have taken a slight sinister pleasure in watching him heave and gag for the next 20 minutes. As darkness begin to overtake us, and the chore still not finished; I finally directed that he step aside and let a "real" man do the surgery. Matt was thrilled that he was being let off the hook; but being his mentor and knowing the importance of the education he was receiving, I insisted that he "look real close" so that he'd learn the process and need no help the next time. Well, I guess perhaps/somehow it was at that point that a demon suddenly grabbed hold of my well-intentioned spirit so that, for some inexplicable reason, I was suddenly possessed to scoop up a double handful of that warm deer blood from inside that chest cavity; and then splashed that steaming liquid all over the front side of that unsuspecting boy's shirt. That young man, caught completely by surprise, starting screaming and gagging and heaving and thrashing around in the leaves; and I was afraid he'd choke to death before I finally got him settled down. Afterwards, when things got halfway back to normal, we loaded up Matt's buck and proudly took him; and his trophy home to show off to what I assumed would be a very thrilled mom and dad. It was waaay past dark by the time we arrived home in Watkinsville; and when Matt's mom opened the door and saw Matt covered with blood, she fainted. As Matt's mom regained her senses, and while still under the spell of the devil, I calmly explained that, although Matt had fallen from his stand and got a little bruised and bloodied in the process; he'd suffered no broken bones, and I was absolutely positive he'd be just fine in a couple of days. When Matt explained to his mom what had actually happened; and to put it mildly, can you believe this lady failed to find my twisted attempt at humor the least bit funny? And although I couldn't understand, 'cause I found the whole thing hilarious myself; how was it that Matt had the only parents in the entire county with zero sense of humor? Looking back it's difficult to believe this event occurred almost 27 years ago and will be one of those hunting trips I'll remember into senility; but it was indeed a special time. And although maybe not so funny to Matt at the time, even he'll laugh about that Sunday afternoon now; although, for some unknown reason, he's never asked me to take him deer hunting since.
