Bill was one of the JEWELS of this board. He'd kindly reposted this for me, a great insight to his incredible character.
It's all good, Bill!
"Afternoon Afield - A Dedication
Yesterday, after scrambling around looking for shotgun slugs, blaze orange vest, assorted other deer hunting paraphernalia, my guide and companion arrived on the scene about 2 PM.
He had loaded my decoys and taken them to the hunting site a week ago.
We arrived shortly after 3 PM and placed a doe across the field some 55 yards upwind from my blind. The buck decoy, sporting a 150 class set of eight point antlers, trailed the doe some 5 yards closer to me. Under my direction the guide planted "doe in heat" and "Wallhanger" sticks from James Valley Scents slightly upwind of the decoys.
By 3:30 PM we were comfortably settled in the blind, gun loaded, well hidden behind a camo screen with the wind blowing right in our face. I peered through the scope and put the cross hairs on the buck decoy for practice. My chair was sitting at precisely the right angle.
Tim, my deceased friend, Wayne Welch's son, whispered optimistic words as to where my trophy might step into the field. We chatted briefly about his Dad and outings from years ago. Tim stretched out using a jacket for a pillow and announced, "I'm going to take a snooze."
I warned him, "I don't want to hear you snoring like your father used to do." He grinned and promptly went to sleep. Within 20 minutes he was snoring lightly. 10 minutes later a couple of yearling deer step into the field and began grazing about 80 yards away. Expecting their mother at any moment, I alerted my sleeping companion, "move out of the way. I need to turn around." He blinked and scuffled aside before peeping.
A squirrel fussed somewhere in the woods.
"Wait till they line up and take two with one-shot like Dad used to do." I nodded, still waiting for a big old doe or possibly a buck.
The sun lowered behind trees putting everything in shadow. The time was exactly right. Night was coming. I expected to see a woodcock, but none appeared. An owl hooted. In a little while I could not see the decoys through the scope. There would be no venison for us this trip. We gathered our gear and left for home. I wasn't disappointed. I must be getting old. Under the circumstances, that isn't too bad.
PostScript: for those of you who don't know me or my friend Wayne Welch, Wayne died of cancer after a long battle nearly three years ago. After 25 years of paralysis he convinced me that I could hunt from my wheelchair. He rigged up a mount for a gun I could not pick up and fabricated a trigger I could shoot with paralyzed hands. For nearly 10 years he hauled me to woods and marshes and fields to hunt deer, waterfowl, preserve pheasants and quail. He fed me when I was hungry, put on more clothes when I was cold and emptied my pee bag when it was full. He kept my shotgun loaded and my heart light.
May all of you have hunting friends like Wayne and his son, Tim.
Each day is a magic carpet ride and I am blessed.
All Good....Bill"
Last edited by Bert Matzek; 02/20/09 02:09 AM.
