Whitetailworld’s Blog

by Derek Brown

I’ve already shared my entire 08 hunting season with everyone, so that’s off the list. I could have gone with a straight forward totally informational route and tried to bore you all to tears with facts and figures. My brain hurts and I don’t want to have to think that hard. Why I decided to write about this I’m not sure. In reality it’s actually some pretty frightening stuff from my prospective. Yet at the same time it has brought a smile to my face so I guess it can’t be that bad. You all can thank my mother for even giving me the idea.
To know someone totally you have to take a look into their past. So as a basic introduction that is what I’m going to offer up. A glimpse into my past shouldn’t be all too painful for anyone.
This last week my mom got onto one of her sentimental kicks and had the old photo albums pulled out. She was showing me how many of her old photos are quickly fading. I of course open my mouth and say “I can fix that”. Think Derek, think! As soon as I spoke I knew I was going to regret it. Out came more boxes and more boxes and pretty soon I was surrounded with literally thousands of photos. I could see this was probably one of the dumbest combinations of four words I’d ever put together and it was going to take me several weeks of scanning and photo editing to pay for my lack of foresight. I do get a payoff however. Many of these old pictures I did not have copies of, so now’s my chance to get some of my childhood digitally preserved.
As I flipped through the pages of the photo album a noticeable smile was etched into my face. I guess that means I am actually somewhat enjoying this little stroll down memory lane. I had forgotten about many of the happenings laid out in the pages of the album. Some I don’t know how I could forget, but I did. Like this one for example.
How many of you played with an African lion in your backyard? Few if any I’m willing to bet. Long story on this one, but when I was young some people my dad knew would bring their lioness along with them when they came to do some work at our farm. Her name was Simba , of all things, and according to the notes on the back of one of the photos she was 200 pounds, ate 12 cans of cat food and 6 eggs every day. I had a blast with this cat. It just wanted to play. I would take off running as fast as I could go ( believe me, that happens with a lion on your tail) and in no time I could hear this beast coming up from behind. Whack! I was on the ground looking up at her. She would sit down and wait for me to get back up again and as soon as I took off running she was on me again. Whack, there I laid. Over and over again we played this game; until the time came for them to go.
There is no way on God’s green earth that someone brings a lion to someone else’s house to play “stalk the kids” in their backyard. Not a chance, no way, no how does this happen. Besides that, what were my parents thinking? !

My mom also had a lot of my firsts stored in those boxes.
My first deer for example, was in there. I didn’t have any pictures of it in my possession and now I do. That triggered the memory of my dad deciding to give me a hard time about shooting a young doe. When I came home from school to help him bring it to the processor he had put my dog’s collar and leash on it because he said “it was the size of a dog”. I didn’t think it was very funny at the time. But it must be, because I smile about it now. I had used my dad’s bow, which was way too short for me and with no guidance or knowledge at all, I literally just climbed a tree, stood on a sturdy limb believing in my balance and waited. Luck shinned down on me (that’s exactly what it was) and I was able to kill my deer at 5 yards quartering away. One of my proudest moments as a kid.

My first elk is now part of my collection. Nothing spectacular about the bull other than he fulfilled a dream of mine. Being on a successful elk hunt with my Dad in Colorado had been the ultimate goal of mine since I could remember. I only wished my grandpa could have been there to share it with me.

My “Peace bull” was in her collection as well. Not my largest bull, but probably the bull that means the most to me. This is the bull I was able to take a few weeks after my grandpa’s death. This is his bull in every way, shape and form. I merely shot it. Using his rifle you can see hanging in the background.

My largest fish ever, a sturgeon caught in the Rainy River at Lake of the Woods. I was fishing with my dad and my great uncle, who was a vet of WWII. He was severely injured when he took a bomb blast to his face as he was driving his vehicle. He loved to fish more than anything and he took me out to many lakes with him over the years. He would talk about this fish and trip for hour’s non-stop to anyone he could get to listen. Without me knowing he had the head and tail mounted for me and gave it to me for my birthday. It took 1 ½ hours to get the fish into the boat and over that time a large crowd of boats had gathered around us, just watching me fight the fish. When we finally got it hauled on board horns blew, cheers went up and a giant parade of boats followed us to the resort, so they could get a close up view of the fish. Definitely my fishing career highlight.

My first antelope taught me several lessons the hard way. It was my first big game hunt of any kind and it was the most gut wrenching experience I’ve ever had in the outdoors. I took an unsteady shot, rushed the shot and followed it up with 2 more misses. Then realized I had left the rest of the ammo in the vehicle. I watched the doe fall after the third shot, and I was bursting with joy. But when I got down to her my balloon popped. I did not realize that I had made a bad hit until I was down to the antelope and watched it try and get up. I went from ecstatic to horrified in one second flat. She just stared at me and bellowed over and over again. I could hear and see the anguish I had cause this poor animal and I could do nothing but stand there and watch. Slowly the lights went out and she died, but not before turning my guts to mush. I saw no need in telling anyone what had happened that day but they kept on having to tell me to smile for the photos. I couldn’t. There was nothing to be happy about. I vowed I would never be unprepared again while hunting. I will never go through that again, flat out period. Why do I put it here? Maybe it’s because any youngsters out there reading this can learn from those mistakes I made? Maybe because it shaped the type of hunter I am? Maybe because from that day forward I’ve looked at any creature I’m pursuing in a different way? Maybe because it’s the only big game animal I was ever able to hunt with my grandpa? I don’t know, but it’s a powerful memory any way I look at it.

These are just some of the old memories found in my photo book. I’m hopeful that I’ll be able to acquire new memories, stories and photos to add to the book in the near future and I look forward to sharing them with all of you.