On Diddlys and Squats
I was sitting in one of my box stands early Saturday morning overlooking a small clover & wheat food plot. The .50 GM/LRH Renegade was across my lap, stoked with a 250 grain DeepCurl that I hoped to put into a nice buck. It was a pleasant thirty-eight degrees when dawn broke to a clear blue sky, with just the slightest bit of air movement out of the Northwest.
Unfortunately, none of the bucks in the neighborhood felt in need of a DeepCurl that morning. I spent the next four hours staring at an empty plot.
It had warmed up to the low 50’s when my cell phone rang at about 10:30. The caller was my good buddy Raymond who was hunting his plot a half mile South of me. Raymond is about 30 years my junior, but I don’t hold that against him. He’s pleasant company and a big strapping fellow who’s not adverse to helping me drag a deer – one of his more endearing qualities.
“See anything?” he asked.
“Nope, not a thing,” I replied “what did you see?”
“Diddly”
“Diddly, huh?”
“Nope, didn’t see diddly.”
“Didn’t see diddly? Wait a second. I thought you said you saw diddly. Did you see diddly, or did you not see diddly?”
“Same thing.”
“How can seeing diddly and not seeing diddly be the same thing?”
“It is.”
“I’m confused.”
“Not unusual. You often are old man. I’m packing up. See you back at camp.”
So I started putting my binoculars and empty coffee thermos in my little knapsack to head for camp when my phone rang again. It was my brother-in-law Mike calling from his stand just West of me.
“See anything?” he asked.
“Not a thing. What did you see?”
“Squat”
“Squat, huh?
“Didn’t see squat.”
“Oh man! Here we go again.”
“What?”
“Forget it. See you at camp.”
DISCLAIMER: I will accept no challenges that this post is off topic to the Black Powder forum. I clearly stated right up front that I was hunting with the Renegade.