CnA
09-13-2002, 12:19 PM
Every office has one. He's the guy you hear coming long before you see him. The one who has slightly crazed look in his eye. Sometimes he's a bit boisterous, other times you know it's him because he whistles when he breathes.
If the way he drags his feet doesn't beget his presence, the knuckle cracking, teeth grinding, 5 o'clock shadow at 8 am, or humming of an old REO Speedwagon song let's you know he's near.
Except in September.
Come Labor Day, he's creeping up on you like a pair of Indian underpants. He's the blind spot in your peripheral vision, the soft steps in a crowd, and the adaptable landscape in your surroundings. He's the accepted silent stalker.
After all, it's almost archery season.
It's time to play recurve ninja (the primitive silent killer), and no amount of sneaking up on old ladies will come close to the skill required to get within a steady, hand-to-cheek shot at a wild animal. So prior to Oct 1 he practices his techniques--- the steps of silence, the tuned breathing, standing downwind, and the deliberate movements of the ex-coffee drinker. By Oct 1, he's advanced his level to master the scent-masking laundry technique.
Yes, it's an ugly transformation, but one few of us have to witness since he's never at work during the month-long season. Even his kids know better than to wise off and tell him to, "go climb a tree," because he will; for several weeks -- and he'll like it.
But put yourself in his shoes. For eleven months he's had to think about that one giant scrape that a few days later led him to the bedding area, which pointed out the game trail, which allowed him a glimpse of the huge rack, which made him traverse the swamp to the dawn feeding plot where on the last day of the season he got to fire a low and inside arrow into the dirt just under the shoulder of Buckzilla.
This year, he's pre-scouted the area, strategically placed his tree stands for every wind direction and practiced at the range until his fingers were wore down to the nub. He's dressed like a tree, camoflauged his face and wears a grunt-tube necklace.
He's Archery Man, he's got a plan, and no amount of triple-eye-bagging sleep deprivation is going to keep him from getting to his tree stand.
Not snakes, gators, fire ants, nor poison ivy will stray him from his broadheaded quest. It's Archery Man Vs. Buckzilla, and it's coming to a Deer Management Area near you. Rated PAB (Peek-A-Boo).
Archery season opens Oct. 1
So, be nice to Archery Man, because he's waited a long time for this rematch.
If the way he drags his feet doesn't beget his presence, the knuckle cracking, teeth grinding, 5 o'clock shadow at 8 am, or humming of an old REO Speedwagon song let's you know he's near.
Except in September.
Come Labor Day, he's creeping up on you like a pair of Indian underpants. He's the blind spot in your peripheral vision, the soft steps in a crowd, and the adaptable landscape in your surroundings. He's the accepted silent stalker.
After all, it's almost archery season.
It's time to play recurve ninja (the primitive silent killer), and no amount of sneaking up on old ladies will come close to the skill required to get within a steady, hand-to-cheek shot at a wild animal. So prior to Oct 1 he practices his techniques--- the steps of silence, the tuned breathing, standing downwind, and the deliberate movements of the ex-coffee drinker. By Oct 1, he's advanced his level to master the scent-masking laundry technique.
Yes, it's an ugly transformation, but one few of us have to witness since he's never at work during the month-long season. Even his kids know better than to wise off and tell him to, "go climb a tree," because he will; for several weeks -- and he'll like it.
But put yourself in his shoes. For eleven months he's had to think about that one giant scrape that a few days later led him to the bedding area, which pointed out the game trail, which allowed him a glimpse of the huge rack, which made him traverse the swamp to the dawn feeding plot where on the last day of the season he got to fire a low and inside arrow into the dirt just under the shoulder of Buckzilla.
This year, he's pre-scouted the area, strategically placed his tree stands for every wind direction and practiced at the range until his fingers were wore down to the nub. He's dressed like a tree, camoflauged his face and wears a grunt-tube necklace.
He's Archery Man, he's got a plan, and no amount of triple-eye-bagging sleep deprivation is going to keep him from getting to his tree stand.
Not snakes, gators, fire ants, nor poison ivy will stray him from his broadheaded quest. It's Archery Man Vs. Buckzilla, and it's coming to a Deer Management Area near you. Rated PAB (Peek-A-Boo).
Archery season opens Oct. 1
So, be nice to Archery Man, because he's waited a long time for this rematch.