Bench-Talk

 It was 0715, 1/2 hour into the S.Dak opening day of deer season...I had just been humiliated by a nice 5x5 buck who strolled by at 30 yrds.  How he knew that I had a "anterless only" tag is a mystery, was it is uncanny ability to read minds..or had he hacked into the S.Dak's licensing program to obtain this information on yours truly.  As he passed he grunted a short statement which loosley translated into "You can kiss my hairy ass, doe hunter" before sauntering away.  As I sat stewing thinking about his arrogant attitude, I heard movement in the standing corn behind me.  Thumb poised on the safety hoping for a fat doe to present herself, I anticipated the upcoming shot and could already taste the fresh heart sauted in olive oil at tonights feast.  Out of the corn emerged not a deer, but the bare chested and scratched up figure of BIG MIKE.  It appeared that BIG MIKE had been sparring with the local bucks judging from his injuries and sweat drenched/torn remnants of a Wisconsin HBR Championship 2001 t-shirt.  He saw me and immediately stopped, was he going to charge like a grizzly protecting her cubs..or flee back into the corn like a coyote who'd just winded a hunter?  I slowly raised my right hand and gave the secret BIB/SGR gesture which had an immediate calming effect on him.  BIG MIKE approached my position slowly and sniffed the action of my rifle and muttered "Butches Bore Shine....me like".  I gave him a sandwich which was devoured in moments and my orange cap to aid him from being targeted by a gap tooth red neck who thought they'd just seen Sasquatch.  As we conversed in grunts and short utterances about the 2008 shooting/hunting season, Big Mike and myself were suddenly hit by a concussion which almost knocked us off our feet.  To the southeast a small mushroom cloud had formed on the horizon and a flock of geese flying south did a 180 turn and headed due north.  BIG MIKE was obviously concerned about this turn of events, I calmed his fears by explaining that Tom Hencken had just unleased a shot from one of his proven Whitetail stoopers in Missouri and that we weren't on the brink of nuclear war.  BIG MIKE mumbled " Tom good man and shot, me like Tom".  After a couple of hours on hanging out at my blind, BIG MIKE was anxious to continue on his journey to central Iowa to run his fingers through buckets of BIB Bullets and sharpen broadheads to sling at unsuspecting bucks.  "Good luck and have a safe journey", BIG MIKE responded by doing a quick two step and off he was at a dead run heading S/E towards the border.  As I sit here enjoying a LARGE BLACK JUICE, my thoughts go to my buddy BIG MIKE  and the adventures that lie ahead...God's Speed my friend!!

   Todd...did he look like this?  This is reputed to be the only known photograph of Big Mike . If you happened to catch a pic of him, send it to the Monster Quest televison show and claim a big wad of folding money they are offering for proof of His existence.  -Al

Well, it's good to learn that HE hasn't actually died, but has rather, simply, "left the building" ! ;) HE certainly hasn't been around here of late - the afternoon bow-hunts have provided plenty of opportunity at "lesser" type bucks, but I have felt not the slightest temptation to bend the Mathews bow . . . well, maybe a twinge of temptation a couple of times . . . But, if HE were about, this [probably] being the last fall we'll get to hunt Memory Valley, I'm certain that, just for "old times sake",  HE'd have grabbed my bow and arrowed one of the numerous 130" calss bucks which have been parading around  . . . I had become convinced that HE was, at last, truly dead and gone. Perhaps, there remains some hope that we'll get together for one last Memory Valley hunt - I have been considering lowering my standards - if just for the old-times . . .  ;) RG