On the night before season, all through the house I was running and searching for all things about.

The rifles were resting inthe corners of walls, while sleeping bags, back packs, and blaze orange clothing clutterd the halls.

Grocery bags piled with all kinds of junk, were waiting for me to just load up the trunk.

After all things were loaded it was then off to bed, but sleep never came as I rested my head. And then from my dresser there rose such a clatter, that 3 am alarm clock that was the matter.

As I sat on the bed there, still half asleep. I pulled on my woolies and bundled my feet. I stumbled and snort and passed me some gas. As I stumble out to the car just like all seasons past.

And finally with all thing I'm sure in its place I head out of town to my most secret place. Where big buck will wander and race through the woods. I know that this season just has to be good.

I'm finally there in the cold morning light, attemting to pack out my gear, what a site. And I stepin a cow pie and swear softly..He**ll and thenI remember... where are my shells???

Cute.

Johnny I thought you were a hard working farmer?? Now I believe you have too much time on your hands??

How is the BPCR going?? Tom.

Another wet fall--the fields are too wet to get on right now...Looks like another long time picking corn.......I am still fooling around with the BPCR'S
Been shooting the 50-70 some as well as the 45-120....