<TITLE>19. Par 67-69</TITLE>L-67 So I--I... One day I went up there, and it was late in the season. And them white-tailed deer, up there, my. You talk about Houdini being an escape artist, he was a amateur the side of them. And anyhow, when they been shot at, they were just--just vanished. And moonlight night, they'd feed at nighttime, and crawl under brush in the day, get back in the thicket. You never find them.
And there come a nice little snow that night, about six or eight inches, good tracking weather. And we were--took off for hunting. And we'd always carry a thermos bottle full of hot chocolate, where if we got turned around somewhere in the woods, or killed a deer, and had to walk back, or got in a snowstorm, that chocolate would help keep you alive. It's better than coffee or anything, because it's got a--a fuel to it, and a nourishment to chocolate. So I had a... We each one had a quart in our shirt and a sandwich.
And we'd walked all morning, hadn't even seen one track, and we were... Long about eleven-thirty or twelve o'clock, we come to a little opening about the size of this building here. And he--he was ahead of me, walking, and we'd usually go way up into the--above the timber lines, then we'd... He'd split, and we'd go one way and another, and walk down through. And if we got a deer, we'd hang it up. And we'd know when we come back to the base camp... We'd be back there that night, or if we wasn't, we didn't worry about one another. We'd know how to take care in the woods, and we'd be back the next day.

L-68 So then, I thought he was fixing to leave, 'cause we're getting pretty high up. And the deers usually run up the mountain when they were scared. And so then he stopped at this little place and set down. And I thought he was reaching back in his shirt to get a hold of this thermos bottle to--to eat our lunch; and then we'd separate and go back. So instead of that, he brought out this little old whistle.
He had made a little whistle that sounded just like a little baby deer crying for its mammy. You know how--you know how a fawn goes, that little funny noise. Well, he'd fixed him a whistle, sounded just exactly like that. And I said to him 'fore we left that morning; I said, "Burt, you wouldn't use that?"
He said, "Aw, you're like all the rest of the preachers. You'd never make a hunter. You're too chicken-hearted." Said, "Don't--don't--don't... You're--you preachers are too chicken-hearted to be hunters." And usually I had to get his game anyhow.

L-69 But--but however, he--he was going to shoot this little deer. So he reached down in his shirt, and he pulled out this whistle. I said, "You wouldn't do that."
He said, "Oh, get next to yourself, Billy. Get next to yourself." There was a snowdrift there, and he blowed this little whistle.
And I thought, well, we hadn't seen a track, wouldn't hurt nothing. But to my surprise, about as far as across this building, a great big, beautiful, whitetail doe stood up. Now, that's the mother deer: doe. Her big ears standing out like that, her big beautiful eyes looking. What was the matter? No matter how good she was hid, a baby, her baby cried. It was in distress. She jumped up. She begin looking around. Now, we wasn't standing over thirty yards from her.
He looked up to me with them lizard eyes, and I thought, "Oh, my." And he blowed it again. And that deer walked right out into that opening. Now, anyone that hunts deer knows that's absolutely unusual. They won't do that, especially when they've been shot at, and that time of day too: about eleven o'clock, twelve. She walked right out in the opening.
And I looked at her, and I begin to think. "That mother, he's deceiving her. He's blowing that whistle like a little baby crying, her baby. And she's not a hypocrite. She's not just acting; she's not putting on something. But she's borned a mother. It's instinct in her. She's a mother, and that's a baby crying. She was a genuine born mother. It was in her."


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