Hang on to Your Glasses!!

Short Stories by
A. Sayward Lamb

Did You Look in the Gut Pile?

How many times when hunting, have you wished you didn’t have to wear eyeglasses, especially when you have been hot and sweaty and they steam up? It is almost impossible to see the sights of your gun and sometimes the glare from the sun will hinder your vision. The problem lies with the fact that most of us cannot see well without them, so they are a necessity while hunting. Can any of you say that shooting a deer caused you to lose your eyeglasses? I can honestly make that statement, even though it is nothing to brag about. Here is how it happened.

I went hunting up on a discontinued road, known locally as the Commons Road, which led up the westerly side of Mollyockett Mountain, in South Woodstock, Maine. I hiked more than a half a mile past the crest of the mountain, to a long flat, where, on different occasions my sons, Jim and Ron and myself, used to wait near a very good deer crossing. This area consisted of mature hardwoods, so the only place that provided any concealment was a clump of several white maples, from six to eight inches in diameter, located right beside the old abandoned logging road. Only one person at a time could squeeze into the center of them, and even then it was “standing room only”. Still, this provided a camouflage effect by breaking up the outline of the person waiting there.

After a hike of about a mile and a half, I arrived at the deer crossing about 6:45 a.m. and squeezed myself into position inside that cluster of maples, with intentions of watching the deer crossing for an hour or so. I was plenty warm from the strenuous hike that I made up the old roadway, in order to arrive at the crossing early in the day. The sky was clear, but the air was frosty, and with no wind it was a very quiet morning. I had been there for only about ten minutes when I could hear something walking in the dry leaves. The noise kept getting louder and even though I could not see anything, I knew that whatever it might be was coming my way. I slowly brought my Winchester .32 Special carbine rifle to my shoulder and waited. The first thing I saw were the crotched tips of a small set of horns as the buck came walking into view from behind a small knoll. It walked directly towards me, so I only had to move the sights slightly in order to be sighted on the deer. It continued coming my way, so I held my fire. The young “Crotch-horn” buck was in full view only seventy-five feet away. I moved the rifle barrel slightly as I was taking aim and when the buck saw this movement he stopped and looked directly my way. Now he was very alert, with his head up high, smelling the air and his ears turned forward tuned in for any noises. I aimed at the base of the white patch on his throat, pulled the trigger and the buck dropped instantly to the ground.

I walked across the wood road where the buck laid and prepared to field dress it. I didn’t want to get any blood on my hunting jacket so I took it off and hung it on a tree branch. Then I rolled up my shirtsleeves; took my hunting knife out of the sheath and began the job. Even though it was a cool morning, I was still sweating. This made my eyeglasses steam up so I removed them and placed them inside my glasses case which was clipped to the pocket of my heavy flannel hunting shirt.

It took me a few minutes to field dress the deer and when I finished I cleaned off the knife blade and also my hands as best I could by wiping and scrubbing them with dry leaves. When this was done, I reached up to my shirt pocket to get my eyeglasses. Much to my surprise both the eyeglasses and the case they were in were gone! I had already pulled the deer away from the offal so after closely looking on the ground beneath the vicinity where I was standing, I went back to look over the spot where I had removed the entrails. At first, I looked over the ground as carefully as I could without disturbing the leaves. I felt sure I would be able to find the glasses as well as the case even though it was a dark brown color. I must have looked for fifteen or twenty minutes scrutinizing the surrounding area without success. Next I got down on my hands and knees and began feeling the ground all over with my bare hands but this also proved to be a futile effort.

For over another hour I combed the ground completely around the entire area where I had been as well as where the buck had been laying but I never found the glasses or the case I had placed them in. I finally gave up the search and dragged the deer back down to my car. For the rest of that fall season, every time I went past that spot where I shot the buck, I would stop and search the area. I even had my two sons looking when they were up there with me. Still none of us ever found those eyeglasses. My only solution to the problem was to order new eyeglasses. Fortunately, I had a pair of older ones that served the purpose until the new eyeglasses arrived.

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Watch Out for that Tree……Stump!

A few years ago I went deer hunting with my son Jim not far from his home in Oxford, Maine. We happened to be walking along an old overgrown wood road together. I believe I must have been looking for deer instead of watching where I was stepping because as quick as a flash I found myself flat on the ground with my face bleeding profusely from several punctures caused when my face slammed against the end of an old dead stump. When we found my eyeglasses, they were several feet away and the frames were bent so badly that the bow on one side was bent in the opposite direction of the other. When Jim saw the blood streaming down my face, he was afraid I had sustained some severe injuries. Once I wiped off my face with my bandana, we found only superficial cuts and bruises. Luckily, I sustained no injuries to my eyes. Upon checking we found I had caught the toe of my hunting boot under a tree root causing me to plunge to the ground. Of course we gave up hunting and went back to his house where I got cleaned up and patched up. In short time however, I headed for my home in Woodstock to get another pair of eyeglasses and not long after that I was back in Oxford ready to go deer hunting again.

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Do Brothers Act Alike?

Shortly after my retirement in 1989, I was hunting in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania with my brother Stanton, his son Dennis along with an old friend, Emil Dix; all of whom live in Pennsylvania. We paid to hunt on a Boy Scout Reservation and I saw many more deer than I ever had seen while hinting in Maine. The does especially were so numerous that I sometimes stepped into plain view and waved my arms and hollered at them to get them to move off out of the way! I had received a beautiful 30.06 Weatherby, bolt action rifle, earlier that year as a retirement gift, so I was using that rifle during this hunting trip. One morning I went to cross a small stream by stepping on exposed rocks. The first thing I knew, I fell into the water and my new rifle sustained several bad “dings” along both sides of the barrel where it struck the rocks. Of course I was upset to think that this happened but I felt fortunate that I was not hurt.

The following day, I was walking to my stand that I planned to use and my brother was walking beside me. Suddenly a tree branch sprung back and struck him in the face knocking out one of the lenses to his glasses and causing a bad gash on the bridge of Stanton’s nose. We found his eyeglasses several feet away but the lens was never found. Of course we went back to camp and got his wound cleaned and dressed. We determined that he did not need to see a doctor and he also had a spare pair of eyeglasses with him. So he was able to go out hunting for the rest of the week.

Emil Dix told me he knew of an excellent gunsmith who could repair the damage to the barrel of my Weatherby. He suggested that I leave it with him and when I returned from Florida the following spring, my rifle would be waiting for me at his house. The following April, I stopped my at Emil’s house for a short visit on my way home from Florida and I couldn’t believe the beautiful job that the gunsmith had done. To this day, no one would ever know that rifle barrel had been slammed on rocks.

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Dive, Dive, Dive!!!!!

Incoming Turkeys

In the spring of 2003, I participated in the spring turkey hunt. One morning I was just getting ready to crawl into a “nest” that I had constructed the previous day by hollowing out the top of the brush pile, when a gobbler called only a short distance away! In the stillness of the early morning air, it sounded as though he was right beside me! I literally fell into the “nest” and struck my glasses on some brush as I landed in a heap at the bottom of the hole. I got myself squared away and after “talking and teasing” for nearly an hour he flew down off his roost and came up to my decoys where I shot him.

Later in the day, I dropped by to visit Milton Inman at his home in Greenwood, Maine to show him the turkey. I also wanted to have him take a couple of photos of me and the gobbler with his digital camera. I was in his house visiting and while sitting in a chair in his living room the left lens of my glasses fell to the floor. They were not damaged, so Milt was kind enough to mount the lens back in place and tighten the screws on the glasses frames. It was lucky that lens didn’t fall out while I was carrying the Tom out of the woods, because it would have been very difficult to find.

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Double Your Pleasure

Double Your Pleasure

During October of 2003, I decided to participate in the bow season turkey hunt in Maine. On opening day, I drove down to West Paris from my cottage in Woodstock and set up a blind along the edge of a field that I knew had been frequented by turkeys all during the summer and fall. The place I chose was adjacent to a wood road that the turkeys used when exiting the field. I put up some camouflage netting around the area where I planned to sit and wait. I also had a knapsack that held my turkey calls and my decoys. I set out the decoys and after I had the netting in place I took my folding seat and made myself comfortable. I nocked an arrow in my bow and sat it in position where I could reach it handily.

It was a chilly morning and I was sitting in the shade so I was bundled up quite warm with a heavy jacket on. Of course I wore camouflaged clothing as well as a face mask and gloves. It was soon after daylight, so I decided to try calling with my cedar box call. I did this with no response. This didn’t surprise me because Toms are not near a vocal in the fall as in the spring. After awhile I changed calls and started calling with my slate call. Still, I go no response so I just made myself comfortable and planned to wait where I was sitting for several hours hoping that eventually those turkeys would make their appearance. I don’t know how long I waited before I began to notice that something was wrong with my vision. I noticed that when I looked off at any distance, I was seeing two images of the same vision only one was slightly out of line with the other. This problem sure had me baffled and for several minutes I sat there tying to figure out in my mind what was happening. Was I having a stroke? Did I have a blood clot in my eyes? Was something wrong with my blood pressure? Was it caused by my diabetes? Whatever it was, I knew it wasn’t normal. I sort of sat there like a Zombie pondering what to do when I happened to glance down to the ground. There, between my feet and lying on top of some dry leaves, was the left lens of my eyeglasses! My imaginary questions were answered! With that discovery, I picked up the lens and then packed up my hunting gear and headed for home. Soon after that, I was headed to the place where I purchased my glasses to have them repaired. This time they were locked in place with some type of adhesive and bolts and nuts. I certainly hope this ends my problem. So far; so good.

A. Sayward Lamb
Woodstock, Maine
Plant City, Florida