Countdown

Mr. Big.

Maybe I'll go run a rag through the bore on the Ruger. Weather going to start clear and 55. Sun over the trees about 6:44. The redhead is out to dinner with a girlfriend and I feel like a kid waiting for Christmas.

I was a kid when my dad hunted. I got to go along Thanksgiving as a tourist with a .22 after being left home as too little. Finally got to hunt with the sporterized 1891 Argentine Mauser 7.65. Shot my first deer, a tiny yearling doe on a lease near Bandera in about 1964 or 5. Balanced the rifle on my father's shoulder while he spotted with binoculars on one knee. 210 yards across a little draw.

Killed a lot of deer and lived several lifetimes since then. Another hunt starts in the morning. I'm going to be up a pine behind dads lakehouse hunting deer bigger than he would have ever dreamed of on his old lot. Digital cams, handloading, Swiss camo coveralls and cellphone texting. He would be 88 if he was alive. His older brother still is so it might have been possible. He would certainly enjoy this.

I mounted Dad's biggest deer, a massive Bandera 8-pointer with the skin of a buck from the lake. Glad to have it. In the morning I'll be watching for Mr. Big. Not going to shoot any antlers smaller than I already have. Probably won't see a hair the first day but it will still be a fine, fine hunt.

The Argentine got away from my younger brother. Still miss it. That's the way the world is though, everything changes.