The Hear Attack Buck

Several years ago two old boys from back home used to routinely sneak on to the Biltmore Estate and poach deer. I don’t condone poaching but I can sympathize with these two individuals since there are some pretty amazing bucks running around the Vanderbilt’s property. Now since the purpose of this book isn’t to incriminate anyone, I’ll follow the advice of Sgt. Joe Friday and change the names to protect the innocent. We’ll call these two guys Larry and Gerald.

One evening Larry and Gerald snuck onto the Biltmore Estate to do a little spotlighting. Around midnight, the two of them shot and killed a nice sized buck. They quickly field dressed the animal and hoisted it up on Larry’s back and started high tailing back over the mountain to their truck before the game wardens got wind of their illegal actions.

Before long the terrain of their escape route started getting pretty steep and soon both men became pretty winded, especially Larry who was carrying a 100lb whitetail on his back. Combine their brisk pace with the fact that the adrenaline was pumping through their veins pretty rapidly; their blood pressures were fairly elevated. Just as they reached the top of a steep ridge, Larry started screaming like a banshee.

“GOD ALMIGHTY, GERALD! HELP ME, I’M HAVING A HEART ATTACK!”

Larry dropped the deer from his back and began clutching his chest like Fred Sanford preparing to meet his deceased wife Elizabeth.

“I’’M DYING GERALD,” he screamed. “MY PUMP IS GIVING OUT. DO YOU KNOW CPR?”

Gerald, a no nonsense ex-Army Ranger who had fought the Red Chinese in the Chosin Reservoir in Korea, turned and walked casually back towards Larry, who was by now convulsing like a Pentecostal minister who had just received the Holy Spirit.

“HEEELLLLPPP, MMMMEEEEE,” Larry stuttered, his hands shaking skyward as if pleading to his maker.

Gerald simply stood there in silence and calmly watched his partner in crime shake uncontrollably. Eventually, Gerald coolly spat on the ground and let out an annoying sigh.

“You’re not having a heart attack,” Gerald said dryly. “You’re sanding on an electric fence you idiot. Now get that deer back up on your shoulders and lets get out of here, since you’ve done went and woke up every game warden in the state with your dern hollering.”

I would say if there was a lesson to be learned here, is that when poaching deer, keep one eye open for game wardens and the other for high voltage fences.