Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Deer Hunting Birth of a deer camp

A little background to set the stage for what follows.True story.
In Georgia in 1986 my friend Fat Larry had an uncle named Al Johnson,now deceased,who got positively obsessed with killing a large,big racked, dark coated deer which he saw in his woods.We would all be standing around the fire at deer camp and Al would drop by and recount his latest adventures in the quest for this deer.Al,God bless him,got really wrapped up in killing this deer.The ending which he related to us one evening in early December,1987 almost had the old man in tears.A week or so later I wrote this,framed it and gave it to Al.He proudly hung it in his den.I hope you like it.


THE TALE OF THE BIG BLACK BUCK
Around the fire on a cold black night
The old man told of an awesome sight
A large buck deer with a wide spread rack
and a shiny coat of glistening black.
The other hunters listened in awe
to the tale of the big one the old man saw.
And each in his own mind would be the one
to grab the glory and shine in the sun
and push to the limit his hunter's luck
and slay with his gun the big black buck.
But none were such hunters with eyes and ears keen
for this was a smart one and seldom was seen
except for the old man wise to his ways
and he hunted and sought for days upon days
and dreamed in his bed of having the luck
of raising his gun on the big black buck.
Several years went by and the others gave up
and scoffed at the old man still in his quest
of finally proving who was the best.
One day on a clearing it almost went down
the old man hearing a familiar sound
of tall proud antlers scraping a tree
ran to the cut and raised his gun
but when it was over the black buck had won.
The old man was left holding his aim
and the big black buck wise to his game
circled the cut and escaped in the pines
that bordered the edge of the power lines.
As life would have it fate was the one
and not the old man intent with his gun
to step in and end with the front of a truck
the long proud life of the big black buck.
In a waning moon on a roadway bed
blinded by lights the black buck was dead.
But the game as of yet is still to be won
for deep in the woods in the morning sun
the product of the black buck and a ready doe
learning to be equally proud and smart
endowed of equal size and heart
to test another man's skill and luck
Lives the son of the big black buck.

Written by hand by Stan
December 15,1987.