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Local Sports

January 18, 2013

Little things mean a lot to an outdoors writer

(Continued)

“Look at the egg my chicken laid!” he exclaimed.

It was huge, but he didn’t know he was set up. John had found a Canada goose nest the day before while fishing and sent one of the goose’s eggs home with Charlie’s wife to plant in the chicken coop. It was a funny episode and everyone in the dining room roared with laughter.

A year or so later I got a call from my old buddy John one brutally cold Saturday morning.

“What you doing?” he asked. Since I wasn’t busy, he said, “Dress warm. We’re going to the Kunjamuk on the snow machine.”

Being always ready for a little adventure, I went along. We unloaded the sled a mile or so south of Speculator and started up the old Fly Creek Trail. After covering a few miles, John turned the machine sharply off to the left and down over the bank. I had no idea where we were going until he stopped.

“Climb up that tree and get that deer.”

“What?”

I looked up into a tall balsam fir and there was a deer tucked deep into the branches some 20 feet off the ground.

John shot it during deer season a month or so before, pulled the tree top over and with a rope around the deer’s neck, he pushed it back up. The tree straightened right up and the deer was securely hidden up in the thick boughs.

So up I went. After reaching the deer, I jumped out and the deer came down to the ground with me. John chopped off the hind quarters and we headed back to town with the deer in my lap.

I’m not sure why the deer was hidden back in the woods, but I know he sometimes served venison Saturday nights in the restaurant. Maybe that’s what you call a redneck deep freeze.

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