Issue link: https://www.e-digitaleditions.com/i/116174
amblings R By Michael Altizer M Whenever me 'n Stick plan another of our legendary and misbegotten adventures, we now make sure the cook's name isn't "Rowdy." e 'n Stick. Out north on the Missouri River in a deer camp that a friend of his had recommended with great fervor and enthusiasm: "Thousands of acres. Deer everywhere. Shoot a '160' easy the first day unless you wanna hold out for somethin' bigger. Sure thing. Can't miss. Ought'a make a great story." We should have known better. On the first day, we found out for ourselves that, sure enough, the humanoid who owned the whole operation did indeed have a couple thousand acres under lease, though none of it covered more than 50 contiguous acres or so. But we'd already driven over 700 miles to get here, and we weren't about to back out now, not with all the guff we were certain to take from our hunting buddies back home. At first light, Stick spotted a couple of goats playing out toward the barn on the adjoining farm, and by mid-morning I had a raucous group of hormonally overactive four-wheelers doing doughnuts up on the hill a hundred yards above me. For sure, there were deer tracks to be seen – but they must have been coming out late at night after everyone had turned off their big-screens. S two goats and a small herd of big ol' red-and-white herefords that came wandering over the hill and beneath my tree stand an hour before dark. By the third day the weather forecast didn't look all that reassuring, and sure enough, a midmorning storm blew in from the north and soaked down everything, including me. O n the fourth day we finally took a break and actually came in to the lodge for an early lunch with the rest of the hunters. At the time it seemed like a good idea, for we still hadn't seen a deer. And besides, Rowdy, the camp cook, had conjured up a creamy beef stew that was, up to now, the high point of the whole sordid trip. Me 'n Stick happened to be sitting directly across the table from one another, and he had just polished off his second big helping as I was finishing up the last slurp from my first bowl, when the guy sitting next to me judd cooney exclaimed, "Mighty good stew you fixed there, Rowdy!" "Yup, I thought it tasted pretty durn fine when I made it Tuesday . . . must'a been that prime rib we had last week that I added to it." Stick looked up at me with an expression of foreboding in his eyes as he haltingly wiped his chin It was clear we'd been had. We each switched stands the next day, but the scenery was pretty much the same. Lots of trees and fields and horses and corn rows swaying lazily in the breeze. But 'nary a cloven-hoofed critter to be seen anywhere, aside from Stick's P O R T I N G C 89 L A S S I C S