Terrible trouble in the treestand

I found the spot I wanted for my ladder stand. The brush had opened up from last year, and three little drainages came together within a hundred yards of the perfect tree. One of my relatives helped me set it up and all I had to do was wait on the right wind. It was gonna be deadly.

Three days later, the wind switched out of the northeast in the middle of the morning, and I wasted no time in gathering up my necessaries and getting settled in the stand. It was only thirty minutes before the first doe sauntered by, reinforcing my opinion that this was a good travel area---there were several scrapes and fresh rubs within sight of my tree, too.

Then the wheels came off my little red wagon.

I'd taken care of all the normal processes that morning, but I began to feel a rumbling in my gut. This worried me until I got relief by passing a balloon full of gas---after all, the wind was in my favor. Didn't last long---the rumbling returned with increased intensity and urgency, attended by cramping gas that let me know my treestand sit was coming to an end. I started to gather my gear together, and thank goodness I'd already let my gun down on the rope, when the red alert came from my nether regions. The only things that didn't get dropped to the ground were my binoculars and that was because they were around my neck. Cushions, water bottles and grunt calls rained all around the base of the tree.

Have you ever seen an aging fat man trying to take off several layers of clothing while climbing down a ladder? Me neither, but I was almost moving fast enough to look back and see myself. I'm just glad I wasn't wearing coveralls. I barely made it to the nearest stout sapling in time to avoid ruining my hunting clothes, but I may have ruined that particular spot for the rest of the season. The only thing that gives me any hope is the fact that it rained heavily the next day.

My hunting buddies had the nerve to laugh at me when I told them about it and said they were surprised I wasn't struck by lightning because of all the thunder I caused by my stand. I have no intention of quitting eating venison chili, but next time I may go lighter on the beans.

You shoulda just guarded it,,there is no final rational in deer hunting,,If you put a newbie in the worse possible place,,bang, an 8 point,,been there done it,,

I have never met you Haywire but you just made me spew coffee all over my keyboard. ;)

If nothing else, Haywires posts are always eloquent!?!?

I believe they call that a "code brown"........

Shhhhh! I think I just heard a buck grunting. HaHa!

Might as well drop a handful of clover seed on it and get a head start on next year. There's nothing more effective at cleaning out the ole colon as a good early morning rut hunt.

great story mr george that was a good laugh. :D i think you need to name that short story the (early mornin brown code rut hunt) lol

nature gives me advance warnings with the gas....time to go, it's the times I get no warnings....this is one reason I like gulf shores(along with many others) with the mid bathroom....still have to plan my walk
thanks for the good laugh sir....I sure have had that happen a few times myself

I'm still reminded of a buddy of mine from long ago who ate a huge mess of mullet white roe one night, washed down with copious amounts of beer. The next morning was really cold and he was up in his climbing stand, securely and warmly dressed in his new insulated coveralls. He was somewhat hungover, and what he thought was going to be an impressive aromatic indiscretion turned out to be a good portion of that greasy, fried roe in a semi-liquid state. He never had a chance.

As I said, it was cold, but he came walking back to camp half naked, dragging his coveralls behind him, having already disposed of his long johns. He tried to save the coveralls, but he never could stand to wear them again. His socks were gone, too, since they were about the only thing he had left to try and clean himself up with. It was cold enough that the nasty stuff in the coveralls was partly frozen. I hardly ever see him any more, but every time I do, the image of him walking up the road nearly naked, dragging those coveralls behind him flashes through my mind and he knows exactly why I'm laughing at him.