<TITLE>16. Par 65-67</TITLE>L-65 One year, wife and I went up to the camp, and I went up a little late, 'cause I had to work late, and he'd made him a little old whistle that cried just like a little baby fawn crying for its mammy. And he'd blow that whistle. I said, "Burt, you're not going to use that."
He said, "Oh, you chicken-hearted preacher, get next to yourself."
I said, "Burt, surely you wouldn't do that, buddy." I said, "You're one of the best fellows I ever met, a good hunter, and I love to be with you, but you're too cruel." I said, "Don't shoot them little babies like that." I seen him shoot one one day, that had been eating apples, and blowed the apples, threw the fawn against it's mother on the other side and killed it. I said, "Oh, how could you do that? You're a cruel-hearted guy."
"Oh," he said, "you're just chicken-hearted preacher; that's the way with all you preachers, just chicken-hearted." I said... He said, "I thought you was a hunter."
I said, "I'm a hunter, but I'm not a killer." I said, "That's a killer. That's as bad as Hitler," I said, "to do a thing like that."

L-66 Oh, we went hunting that day, and it was late in the season, and them white-tailed deer up there, you think Houdini was a escape artist, you ought to see one of them, after the few guns is fired. And they really are hard to find. There's about, oh, I guess, about a foot and a half of snow on the ground, good tracking weather. And we went all out, gone till noon, and we always put a thermos bottle full of hot chocolate (It's got lot of stimulation to it.), and a couple of sandwiches, and about noon we'd set down and eat these sandwiches when we went over Cherry Mountain, and--and over the Presidential Range, and so forth. Then we'd come back down through the gap; he'd take one way, and me another, coming back to the camp, get in that night.
So we'd hunted all morning; it was getting kinda late in the day. And we'd come through a little opening just about the size of this auditorium. Now, anyone that hunts deer, knows about eleven o'clock in the day, deers are laying down. And especially if they've been hunted much, they're hiding, stay there and starve theirself to death, or eat by the moonlight. And then, they... It's hard to find them. If they come out at all, it'll be real late in the evening, real early of a morning. They get back in that undergrowth and blow-downs and hide. Them little whitetails are really good at it.

L-67 So we stopped there; we hadn't even seen a track. And Burt kindy stooped down; I was at a snow drift. And he stooped down; he went back in his shirt; I thought, "Well, he's going after his thermos bottle now; we'll have a sandwich." And I set my gun down. And when he come out, he looked up at me with them lizard eyes, and had this little old whistle.
I said, "Burt, you're not going to blow that?"
He said, "Oh, preacher get next to yourself."
And he blowed that little whistle, and it sound just like a little baby fawn crying for its--for its mother. And when he did that, just across that opening, a great big mother doe stood up. Now, the doe is the mother deer, stood up. I... She was so close I could even see those big brown eyes, and them great big ears, like that, standing up. She heard that baby. She was a mother, and the baby was in trouble. It cried. She stomped a little bit, and old Burt looked up at me again, I said, "Oh, don't do that, Burt." And he blowed it again. And she walked right out into the open.


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