I Can't Believe I Dun That
By Keith Dotterer
Volume 1 Tall Tales About The Humorous Hunter Number 4
|
Chapter 4: Cletus was perusing through all the new and upcoming equipment, Lou had just recently received at
the Long Shot. With deer season just around the corner, it was time, Cletus decided, to make sure he had the
latest and greatest hunting gear. “What is this“? Cletus yelled over at Lou, as he held up a yellow, banana
shaped object, with a small light bulb at one end. “Oh, that”, Lou replied, “is a long lasting, throw away
flashlight. You never have to put any batteries in it and it is light weight, as well as inexpensive. That way, you
have a new bulb and batteries at about the same cost as batteries, for the flashlights, you have been using.
“Well, now”, exclaimed Cletus, “I am just going to have to get a half of dozen of those. I always seem to forget
to put extra batteries in my day pack, when I am hunting. But, I sure won’t forget to have an extra flashlight”.
Every year, the first week of October was reserved for a neighboring state, bow hunt in a National Forest.
Cletus and his friends, Beanie DeLaney and Rethel Cooper, had been doing this for years. It was their way, of
ushering in the deer season. They always made camp, with their tents, at the end of a logging road, hunting the
same area, year after year. This year, as they slowly drove down the logging road to their chosen camp site,
they noticed, a lot of logging activity, had been going on during the summer. The select cutting process, had left
a lot of treetops in the woods, supplying the deer with a bountiful food source.
By early afternoon, camp was all set in place. Cletus grabbed his bow, day pack, and headed for his favorite
spot, for an evening hunt. He liked to place his portable tree stand, in the same tree, at the edge of a steep
ravine, that was the head of a large valley. The deer had several trails close by, using them to travel, from the
flat on top, to the creek bottom below. He had experienced success here before, and confidently, settled down on
the seat of his stand, awaiting a deer.
About an hour before dark, he noticed a spike buck, slowly feeding in his direction. One, well placed arrow,
sent the buck on a mad dash, into the ravine, only to fall, within Cletus’s sight. Cletus was elated, first day here,
and he already had a nice fat buck on the ground. He quickly took his stand down, grabbed his day pack, and
went to field dress his buck. It was getting dusk, so Cletus reached in his day pack, extracting one of the two
disposable flashlights, he had brought with him. With the flashlight properly aimed and Cletus’s experience, that
project was smoothly and efficiently completed.
By now, it was completely dark, but this did not bother Cletus. He slipped the day pack on to his back, his
recurve on one shoulder, his stand on the other, then grabbing the end of the drag rope, started up out of the
ravine, on to the flat, to head back to camp. The new, throw away flashlight, was already getting very dim. That
is strange, thought Cletus, I have not even used it for an hour yet. Lou said they were long lasting, maybe, this is
just a defective one. Shinning the flashlight on his compass, he took a bearing, on the direction of camp, about a
mile away. He thought, as he started toward camp, I didn’t remember this many treetops, earlier today, when I
came out to my stand. Must be the difference between daylight and dark. Zigging and zagging around the tops
was a necessity, as it was nigh on to impossible, to drag the deer through them. About a 100 yards later, the dim
flashlight went completely out. Cletus was getting irked, but smiled to himself, that is why I carry a spare. He
unshouldered his pack, dug out the extra, new flashlight and resumed his journey back to camp. Cletus had not
taken two steps, when the second flashlight died. Cletus could not believe it. He flipped the switch back and
forth, shook it, pounded it on the ground, all to no avail. That light was dead. Just wait, until I tell Lou, what I
think, about his inexpensive, throw away flashlights, growled Cletus to himself. With no light to see his compass,
Cletus was afraid he might start going in circles and be stuck in the woods, until morning. That wouldn’t be so
bad, except for the fact, that the clouds, that had been gathering, were now sending rain down on Cletus. He
grabbed the rope and took off in the direction, he hoped was camp. If the wind didn’t change direction, and as
long, as he kept the rain hitting his left side, he should sooner or later, make it to camp. Angry now, he plunged
forward, only to catch his feet in yet, another downed treetop, tripping him and sending him face first into the
branches. Gingerly, Cletus got to his feet, making sure his face was still intact, and using his feet to guide him,
found a way around the top. Going was terrible slow and the deer kept getting hung up in branches, he couldn’t
see. He was so tempted to leave the deer and stand, with the plans to find them in the morning, but was afraid,
that it would impossible to locate them again, so he pressed on.
His friends, back at camp. Beanie and Rethel, would be worried sick, over him not showing up. He was
never this late, as it was already, over 3 hours, since it had gotten dark. By now, his shins felt like they had been
beaten, by the backside of a machete, from constantly, running into treetops. All of a sudden, the rope dug
deeply into his shoulder, as the deer was hung up again, on downed branches. Full of frustration, Cletus turned
around, grasp the drag rope with both hands, and gave a mighty pull. With branches snapping, the deer came
flying through and with the pressure gone, Cletus went stumbling backward. Poor Cletus couldn’t win for losing.
As he went backward, he encountered a 4 foot deep washout, and his momentum carried him right into to it,
landing him with a thud, twang, and crash on his back, on top of his pack and stand. As he lay there trying to
gather his wits about him, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He slowly got to his feet, gathered up his
belongings and climbed out of the washout. As he tried to sling his bow, back over his shoulder, he discovered
the twang he had heard, was his bowstring snapping, unstringing his bow. Now, he began to wonder, if his bow
would still be OK.
Worn out, dejected and discouraged, Cletus, slowly kept making his way in the direction, that he felt, would
take him to camp. After another hour of slow progress, he saw the faint glimmer of a Coleman lantern through
the trees. A rush of adrenalin, coursed through his veins, as he thought, even if it isn’t our camp, somebody will
give me a ride. He started going as fast as he could, hoping not to stumble into any more trouble, when he
noticed a vehicle, slowly going down the logging road. It was Beanie’s truck and Rethel was sitting on the
tailgate yelling for him. Cletus let out with war hoops, that would have made any Shawnee proud. Rethel yelled
for Beanie to stop the truck, and by shouting, back and forth, they finally found Cletus in the dark.
Safely back at camp, suddenly Cletus exclaimed to his friends, “ Don’t ever give up your flashlights”!
Beanie and Rethel just looked at each other. Both had the same thought, this ordeal had been way to much for
Cletus.