<TITLE>13. Par 48-51</TITLE>L-48 One time I was hunting in the north woods with a friend of mine, and he was one of the best hunters I ever hunted with. You didn't have to worry about him; he wasn't going to get lost. You didn't have to tie him on to you. He was a real hunter, and a good shot. But he was the most wicked man I ever seen. He loved to shoot little fawns just to make me feel bad.
Now, it's all right to shoot a fawn. I'm not trying to belittle, sister, if your husband brings in a fawn sometime. That's... If the law permits that, that's all right, but not shoot a whole bunch of them. The little animal's all right, the fawn, if the law permits it.
It's not wrong to kill a--a little animal. Abraham killed a calf, and God eat it. It's exactly right. So it's not wrong. But to go and just murder them, that's what's wrong is to murder them.

L-49 And--and Burt just loved to murder them just to be mean. And I said, "Burt, how can you be such a good hunter and be so mean?"
He said, "Oh, you chicken hearted preachers."
I said, "I'm not chicken hearted, but I have a respect for God's nature." And I said, "I may be a hunter, but I'm not a killer."
And he said, "Oh, get next to yourself, Billy. Come on, let's go hunting." And he just loved to shoot those little fellows, and watch them fall, and then look at me and laugh.
And one year I went up there to go hunting. And he'd invented a little old whistle. And he could take that little whistle and go just like a little baby deer crying for its mammy. And he'd whistle that little whistle, and I said, "Burt, you're not going to use that."
He said, "Oh, go on, Billy. When you ever going to get next to yourself? You'd be a good hunter if you wasn't so chicken hearted."

L-50 We went hunting that day, and there was a little snow on the ground, about six inches, and we'd went all up across the Carl Notch, and down over to the Washington Mountain, and come back over towards Adam. And we was getting down along noontime; we had not even seen a track in the snow. And we stooped down there at a little opening; it was about nearly noontime.
And I thought Burt had stooped down to take his lunch out. We would have some lunch and hot chocolate. And I was trailing along behind him. We were going to separate in the afternoon and take two different ways coming back. We was going to find some tracks first, then ever who found a track, we'd take off.

L-51 Then he stooped down, and I seen him looking back into his pocket, and here he come out with that little whistle. And he give it a little squeak of a cry, like a little baby fawn, and when he did, just across the opening a big mother doe raised up. Now, a doe is a mother deer. And I could see her big brown eyes and the veins in her face, she was so close.
She raised up. Now, that's unusual for a deer at that time of day in that country. Raised up and begin to look around. What was the matter? Though it was scary for her, yet there was a baby in trouble, and she was a mother. She raised up; she looked around. And old Burt looked around at me with that real sheepish look in his face. I thought, "Oh, Burt, you won't do that."
And he squealed it again. And the mother deer walked right out into the open. That's very unusual for them to walk out in the open in hunting season. She was standing out there. She wasn't a hypocrite. She wasn't putting nothing on. She had something real. She was a mother, and a baby was in trouble. Regardless of how danger it was, she never thought of the danger. It was the baby that was in trouble. And there was something inside of her. She was a mother by birth. She heard the baby cry. She got out in the open.


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