re: Prayers From My Fellow OBers

I guess my favorite story about him would have to be when I was about 9 years old, I was hunting in the stand with Dad and we always brought those little Motorola radios with us to talk with everyone in the woods in case someone needed help loading a deer or had gotten stuck, etc. Poppa's thing was every year early in the season he would try to get one or two does for meat for he and Gram and one give the preacher.. Well we heard Poppa shoot and there directly he called on the radio and said he had a big doe down. His stand was right on the main gravel road that went through the lease and surrounded by cutover which presented some pretty long shots at times. So we get there to help him load it up and directly I hear Dad say "Bobby, this doe has a set of nuts and a couple of horns on his head" I heard Poppa say "Shiiiiiiiiiiiitttttt" then he looks at me and says "C'mere son and look at this fine spike you shot!" (We were hunting in Mississippi so as a youth I could kill one spike a year) So we go back to the camp and clean it, it was Sunday morning so everyone getting ready to break away for the week and he's trying to figure out how he's gonnna get it out of there and back over into Louisiana. So he goes to getting trash bags and duct tape to wrap the deer up in like he's trying to cover up a murder on a CBS crime drama, and lets me know right fast in hurry that I'm riding with him back to Jonesville. So off we go making good time, every thing going smoothly, and green Dodge truck gets behind us on the Miss. River Bridge at Natchez and starts flashing his lights, "Oh son of a bitch!" So Pop pulls into the parking lot of a bank or something in Vidalia and ask the guy the what he wants, come to find out the guy was interested in how Poppa built the little cab for his fourwheeler that was loaded up on the trailer, Poppa tells him "Man I ain't got no damn to talk to you right now, here's my phone number I'll be glad to answer any questions you have later on".. I talked with him about that story in the hospital on Saturday and it put a big smile on his face when I asked him why it never occured to him to just cut the head off and chuck it in a gulley somewhere .... Ever since then at the beginning of every hunting season the camp had a pool bet on how long it take him to mess up and shoot a spike.. ahh good times