10 Hunting And Fishing Best Times Calendar

Hunting And Fishing Best Times Calendar in 2023

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Deer Hunting Opener

As I write this poem, I am listening to gunfire in the distance. I am expecting a deer to come limping up to my house. None, yet!

I'll spend the time with a friend
A friend of my choosing,
The time will be well spent,
I don't feel I'm losing.

I am home, since I am not a hunter
My hunting days, I couldn't be blunter
Have come to an end.
I am glad I do not have to pretend

There are hunters, out there, blasting
It sounds faster and faster.
If they hit one, and mangle it
What a disaster.

Time passes quickly, alas
You know what that means,
Soon they will be shooting
At birds in the grass.

My husband is all boy, ever more
He's tough, yes, He's a hunter to the core,
His actions - they show it enough
He really likes to do that stuff.

My husband is hunting,
So, now, I am clearly debating
What I would like to do
I'd rather be roller skating

My father in law jokes
in fact he dismisses
That the place where they hunt,
Is a lead mine because of all of the misses.

Spraying lead casting, I think with a smile
Doesn't sound fun to me, although it should
Mile after mile
Trudging in the wood

Oh, that's right,
I guess the bullets are un-leaded
Because if you'd eat one
You'd end up dead-ed.

How do I describe this,
This deer hunting magic
The adrenalin burst
Of something so tragic.

I love the flavor
Of venison meat
I look forward to the steak
That I like to eat.

I don't like to hunt them
In fact, in the past
I hit one with my car
Going too fast.

I prefer using my car
Instead of a gun
Yeah, it causes dents
Because the deer like to run.

The last time I hit one,
It didn't go far,
Since it hit on the front,
Side, and end of
My car.

Yeah. That was the year
He didn't have any luck
my husband came home
after I hit my ten-pointer buck.

He came home defeated
From up North without anything,
No deer, not even one.
He couldn't even sing.

I met him at the door,
I was just leaving
To go cut up my deer
he had trouble believing.

I said, "I am going"
To your parents to butcher a deer
He said "I didn't get one"
There isn't one here.

In a slow, almost redundant replay
He asked me again,
He suspected something was up
Why I said it that way.

He said "I didn't get one"
I said, "Well, I did. It's dead"
He looked at the dented car
And he shook his head

He was of course glad
That I was all right
Because I hit that deer
In the middle of the night.

I was off visiting
The home of my sister,
I didn't expect a deer
To want to play Twister.

I hit the first deer,
I guess there were two,
The buck was chasing
A nice, fat doe, too.

I am glad that I only hit
One of the two, you know.
It could have been
Tragic, to also hit the doe.

Typical, you know
Those deer are nocturnal,
They run at night
I note in my journal.

I am making myself hungry
Discussing these deer
I hope that one
Drops dead and is brought here.

And, since it is breakfast time,
I guess I will locate,
A piece of toast and some jelly
To quiet the rumbling of my belly.

A piece of toast
With some butter is nice
Some Nutella, some cinnamon
And honey, will suffice.

I guess I am fasting
I haven't left my chair
And I can hear blasting
Again, out there.

Most will not get one
Because it takes some skill
Not just some dumb luck
To get a deer to the kill.

The hunters dressed in orange
Are milling around
Some in their tree stands
Some on the ground

And deer are smelling the breeze
They listen, they grunt
They start at each noise
They'll outsmart these boys.

Those hunters are stinky, covered with doe pee
The deer are using their nose
The smell is not like a rose
They are pretty smart, you see,
.
The deer catch a whiff
And are hiding you see
They don't want to get shot at
Any more than you or me.

And most will escape
Without much ado
From these hunters,
They'll outsmart them, too.

The hunters know that
The gun will prevail
And get ready to shoot
At some fleeting white tail

Hoping to shoot something
Is the goal of the day.
If the deer have anything to say about it
They'll say '˜No way!"

Hunting, you know
Is not allowed in town
No guns in city limits
No shooting in this town

I am thankful for that
From the window I watch from
Without my orange hat
I guess, that is that.

Those hunters are crazy
I say with a grin
You watch, those deer
They know where they've been

A hunter will use two apples or three
A salt lick, some doe pee
And maybe oats, too.
All they want is some deer they can see

A trophy head
To display on their wall
To me, of course
The thing is just dead.

Of course, the meat
Is delicious, diverse in fact
To be exact, my tongue starts to lick
It can be made into chops,
Steaks and beef stick.

They make it with deer meat,
They add some pork too
Some cheese makes it tasty
And soft to chew.

Hoping to glimpse
You know, Something with horns
But as the day progresses
They'll settle for just the color of brown.

My husband, he hunts
Year after year
He loves to go chasing that
Elusive deer.

We have a cabin up '˜North' you see,
Where there are eighty acres to hunt on
With a cabin that's heated
With a good chimney.

Four rooms with beds
A kitchen and table
And lots of chairs
To rest while you're able.

Most of the time
He does bring home steak
And often times,
He'll cut out the heart
And bring it home to make.

We slice up the heart, not to be slight
We dip it in flour, then into beaten egg goo,
Then roll in cracker crumbs makes it stick, too
I am making myself hungry, let's eat it tonight!

Fried golden tan in a frying pan
Makes it a delight
You can't fry it too much
It always tastes just right!

The deer all fall have been milling around
Hopping across the road
In front of my car
Now that it's opener
They will not go far

I think the deer know
That their life is in danger
They are hesitant
To trust any stranger.

I certainly don't blame them
Do you, on this day?
If someone shot at me
Would I come to play?

The answer is no,
I certainly would not.
They might ask me out
But they can just rot!

If you look out the window or listen outside here
These men wearing jeans,
And traces of orange
They are hoping to shoot a deer

There was a hunting dog
That showed up at my door,
It came here on Thursday
A black Labrador.

Why he was lost,
I still do not know
I called the Sheriff
And let them all know

They sat and sat,
while waiting they ponder
Is the dog really missing?
Will it come home, from way over yonder?

The Sheriff he called me
Let no person put it asunder
That they would be picking her up
You never know... Dogs tend to wander.