Putting the finishing touches on the deer blind

November 14, 2012 – Wednesday

29 degrees/dark (I can’t tell if it’s clear or cloudy)

Pentoga Road

I think I about hit my limit yesterday and paid for it last night. It was a busy day and I’m wondering if possibly, I didn’t drink enough water or simply tried to fit too much into the daylight hours. Maybe I’m a guy with a sixty-year-old body whose mind thinks he’s still twenty?

It was the most beautiful day. The sun was shining, there was no breeze, and the temperature was around freezing. It was a good day to be alive.

I finished working on the deer blind. It came out okay, rugged and sturdy, and should provide a few more years of service.

Loading it into the back of the Man Truck, I took off for the woods. All went well until…

Who in the devil put those trees in the way? I didn’t notice a couple and while backing in, managed to wedge the truck and become high centered on a stump that someone had obviously placed there just prior to my arrival. I was in a mess.

Still, with the help of the tractor and chain saw and muttering words I’ve not heard since Grandpa Pennington taught me the fine art of swearing, I managed to free the Man Truck and successfully place the deer blind among a stand of spruce trees looking out onto the small meadow.

All that remained was pouring several buckets of wood chips onto the floor. Critters got in before and made a home in the blind when they’d burrowed up from underneath. No, not this time, at least not so easily.

I walked back to the barn and cut chicken wire and grabbed the staple gun. After tipping the blind on one side, I fixed the mesh onto the bottom, overlapping it onto the sides. At least if anything wants to move in, he’ll have to work for the privilege. All that remains now is to dump the wood chips inside, something I’ll do first thing this morning.

It was early afternoon. What to do next? I put on my walking shoes and thoroughly enjoyed yesterday’s hike. There were thousands, if not millions, of deer grazing in the fields along the road. I contented myself with listening to a few chapters of Swiss Family Robinson and enjoyed putting a few miles under my feet.

The cell phone rang. It was someone up from lower Michigan, on his way to his deer camp, asking if I still had the refrigerator for sale. He’d heard me advertising it on Telephone Time yesterday. The man will be out today to look at it. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going home with a refrigerator, one way or the other.

I worked on the popples until dark. It’s getting to where I can see my progress. Just a few more days… just a few more days… just a few more days.

It will be a good thing when I’m finished as the garage looks like a city dump and the barn… well, I don’t want to talk about the barn. All other chores have been put on hold while working in the popple patch.

Remember the song that went…

Where oh where is dear little Susie?

Where oh where is dear little Susie?

Where oh where is dear little Susie?

Way down yonder in the paw paw patch!

And then it went…

Pickin’ up paw paw’s, puttin’ ‘em in your pockets

Pickin’ up paw paw’s, puttin’ ‘em in your pockets

Pickin’ up paw paw’s, puttin’ ‘em in your pockets

Way down yonder in the paw paw patch!

If you remember that, you’re no spring chicken. I was taught Way Down Yonder in the Paw Paw Patch by Mrs. Anderson, my kindergarten teacher back in the mid-fifties (when kindergarten was just invented) and was delighted years later to hear it on Captain Kangaroo. I went on to teach and sing it during my early years of teaching music to elementary students.

So yesterday, the tune got stuck in my head and all the while I’m cutting, I’m humming, Way Down Yonder in the Pop-ple Patch. Yeah, I know, don’t say it.

A mineral block and corn to lure the deer in. It's almost the same a stringing a worm on a hook... sort of. 

Sargie was home shortly after seven. I wasn’t feeling well and got worse as the night went along. My head was pounding and my belly was upset. Most of all, I was incredibly tired. At one point, I was about ready to ask Sargie to simply put me out of my misery.

We went to bed early. I barely remember my head hitting the pillow and awakened this morning feeling great. I may have overdone it yesterday. How’s the saying go, “All things in moderation.”

Yes, Mother, I know, I know.

And speaking of today… I’ll put wood chips in the blind for a floor, move the small propane heater out there, and finish getting ready for tomorrow’s opening of deer season. Thursday’s entry will probably be later in the day or evening. I’ve at least got to try for a deer and I want to be sitting in the blind at first light.

I need to be sure my rifle is sighted in, so that means I’ll kill a paper plate or two today. If I get a shot off during deer season, it will be at such close range that I could probably use the open sight and not worry about the scope. A deer any further away than thirty feet or so, is safe. I fired the gun at a shooting range in Sitka six years ago or so. Before that, I used it often to harvest caribou or moose in the Arctic. I imagine it will work just as well on deer in the UP.

I’ll cut more popples today, hopefully sell the refrigerator, and work on classes. There’s a couple of loads of laundry that need washing. It will be another busy one.

A man’s work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road…

Look close, there's the deer blind back among the spruce trees.