It seems that I spent yesterday afternoon to twilight sitting on a bucket in the woods. Obstenabily (not sure of spelling and Im not going to worry about spelling right now) I was hunting. But actually I spent much of the time pondering the fact that I was sitting on a bucket. I began to deeply reflect on that fact. Afterall how many men my age, 64 yrs. old and up were at that time sitting on a bucket in the woods, in the whole great state of Arkansas. I would venture not many. You see when you reach the ripe old age of 64 or so, much earlier for most in fact, you should be way beyond setting on a buckett in the woods. Heck most men my age, practically all of my childhood friends and cousins have long since come to their senses and realised that hunting is pretty much a pointless exercise. I like to think I do it for the meat. It is true that venison is lean and more healthy than beef, but Ive calculated that it truely cost about $1000 per pound. You know when all cost are factured in. So then why was I sitting on a bucket in the woods? It must be due some recessive gene akin to retardisem. It is the only explanation that makes any sense to me. Some mental disorder caused by a biological anomily. Now Im not saying that there are not men my age hunting, some poor fools are simarly effected as I am, just not to the same degree. Afterall these generally hunt from what is called a BOXSTAND. Now a box stand is for those who may not know, a box bulit on a platform, with windows for the shooter to shoot out of. It is often provided with a ladder for the infeabled to use to have access to the stand. It has a chair, sometimes even a lounge chair to relax in. The box provides shelter from the weather, a stable shooting platform (we older folks need, cause we dont shoot like we used to) and can be equipped with heaters, running water, refrigerator, and mircowave ovens to pop the popcorn. All in all, if you have to hunt this is a very senseable arragnement. But I find myself sitting on a bucket. It is not that I dont have box stands available to me, I do. Oh I dont own any, I have lock ons, ladderstands, and climbing stands, all vastly inferrior to boxstands, but many times more comfortable than a bucket. I simply chose not to be in one. This is all together frightning realisation on my part. I mean I chose to endure the agony of spending the afternoon sitting on a bucket. There was a perfectly useable boxstand not more than 200 yds from my location which I could have been restting comfortably in at that moment. The ugly fact is, I felt more connected to the hunt sitting on a bucket. I delved into the whys of this and I remembered the hunts of my youth. PAIN was involved with each and everyone. Back then our hunting clothes were simply old clothes that we didnt need to worry about tearing up. There was no insulation, no designer micro cloth etc, special hunting clothes or things of that nature. WE FROZE OUR BUTTS OFF. All connected with a torterious boat ride, as in South La. all hunting begins with a boat ride. Suffering was a natural element to the hunt, one we felt was obliatory and necessary. I also remembered spending sometime on buckets in my youth. Most often on Mr. Sidneys old tug boat the Capt. Sidney. You see the Capt Sidney was a vintaged old boat even back then. It lacked some of the amenities of hygene some are aquainted with, such as toilets, lavatories, and showers. As this was the case, one took care of the basic needs of the body via the old reliable bucket. I do not recall any discomfort with this arrangement as I guess the amount of time on the bucket was more limited. My conclusion is then that I am a demented human being, one to be pitied as one pities other types of retardation.
Posted on: Sat, 15 Nov 2014 15:10:22 +0000
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