Deer hunting is slow - so perhaps a tale of Midwest hunting is in order.... (pt 1)

.
WARNING: the tale is long, read at your own peril!



Background –

The date was on or around 10 November, 2016. I recall that time period, with clarity, due to the fact that I have long considered the prime rut dates of the Midwest as 5-15 November and I was right smack dab in the middle of these dates. I may be off a day or so – but only that….

My trip was from 5-17 November, so the trip is ALMOST halfway through. West central Illinois. Famed for world class whitetails.

Mid November. This is a time when, at any moment of the day, some glassy eyed, roman nosed, testosterone driven beast of a whitetail can show himself.

Middle of a corn field? No problem.

Standing beside the highway with a hot doe – just watching the traffic go by? Happens all the time.

Move that location to the top of a hog back ravine, an open cattle gate, a 90 degree fence corner or a timber funnel – throw in some cold weather and a North wind - and the chances of seeing this same monster just go up exponentially.

11:00 am and your butt is sore from sitting. You are gonna go get lunch, right? Right?

You must be out of your ever-loving mind!

One note of caution, however – if you elect to read this LONG post, you are riding along with a fairly new Midwest hunter who is far from deadly. I am older, scared of heights and my ability to judge on the hoof is not great (they all look like 150’s to me).

My shooting off the back deck during the summer is fair – but when you dial the calendar around to November, put fur on the target and turn it into a wild-eyed beast, my knees get weak, my bladder feels like it may let go at any moment and my voice (if I were able to speak) would likely sound like a pre-teen girl.

It takes a near suicidal deer to get a ride in my pick up…. But maybe – just maybe – a beast with a death wish will come along.

Read on, if I have your interest – and suffer through yet another Midwest adventure. Will we see blood and a thick antlered beast expired on the ground? Maybe – maybe not…. The fun of the tale is in the telling and, I pray, in the reading….



The Start –

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Pause…..
Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Pause…..
Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Pause…..

“Jeepers, you can’t be serious can you?� – you think as the phone starts buzzing its dreaded alarm call. You slap at it, pull the covers back up and think – “man, some shut eye would be great�. That last red whiskey from the evening previous whispers seductively… “you can snooze and hunt later in the day�….

The tide, however, has other thoughts.

Almost the same as – at the sea - the low tide gives way to the pull of the moon and trillions of gallons of water pour back into the land as the tide starts back toward high, so too, is there an inexorable pull on you.

It is the pull – the allure, the magic, the long anticpation – of the deer stand in November.

In the heart of the Midwest.

At the peak of the rut.

Forecast for cool temperatures and a north wind…

It is magic – but only if you are there. Even Superman is no good when he is not here, right? So…. that means get up. Yep – that would be you, sleepyhead. Up and at ‘em… chop, chop – as my mother used to say.

The motions of the past week slowly begin to repeat themselves – you roll to a sitting position as the shroud of sleep slowly (and I mean SLOWLY) releases its grip. You stand, flip the light switch, tap the button on the coffee maker on your way by, shuffle to the bathroom for your morning necessary and look – bleary eyed – into the mirror. Day 6 of 13 is here. Almost half of the hunt is gone. Or, soon will be.

Your pace for preparation this morning, languid at first, now picks up.

Turn the stove on and put a big pot of water on to boil.

Pour a bowl of Grape-Nuts and slop some 2% over them.

Grab a Tupperware of ham and beans and pop it in the microwave and set it to 2:30….

Clothes neatly laid out the night before – on go the socks and the skin tight UA underwear.

Grab the phone and do a quick weather check – man, the cell service here in the barn is awful – but finally it pops through…. 23 degrees this morning and a 10-15 mph NW wind. Thank you, God, I needed that forecast!

Perfect for our adventure today.

Boiled water goes in the big thermos for the coffee and into the smaller one for your lunch…. They heat for 10 minutes – you dump the water, add the coffee and the ham and beans… and toss them in the pack you checked and re-checked last night…. It is ready to go.

Wolf down the cereal, slide on your mid layer and your tennis shoes, make a coffee to go, grab your outerwear, the pack and the bow….. man, what am I forgetting?

Into the truck you tumble, stow all the gear in the back seat (I really DO have my boots, right?) – and out into the night I drive. I am headed to the furthermost farm this morning – a small 40 acre tract that contains only about 18 acres of timber – but the pictures off of the farm every year are enough to get your butt out of bed at 3:45 am!

The drive is about 50 minutes and as the coffee in the cup gets lower and lower, your thoughts and imagination run wilder and wilder. What will I see today? Will I see anything today? Have I chosen the right stand? Will the wind direction be correct?.

Cut corn fields, leaves and stalks frosted over this morning, seem to sparkle when the car lamps shine on them. I imagine a lusty, thick necked 10 point wandering the edge of one of these very fields – as he looks for love. His weeks, now, are a blur of travel, fight, search constantly, take chances and hopefully breed. He then, like the instructions say – lathers, rinses and repeats. Day after day. For a pretty well defined two week period, he is on his feet almost constantly. Food? A distant thought and not really in the equation right now. Rest? I can rest in January, he thinks… if he actually thinks at all. Right now – only ONE thing is prevalent in his mind. I really MUST find the receptive does and I really MUST breed them, he thinks. In his mind – the mantra: “bucks - take heed at my warning – get in my way at your own peril�.

I hit a pothole and the last of the now cold coffee slops out of the cup and up onto my hand – shaking my thoughts… think, Jim, think…. you are going to the right stand, right? Right? You MUST choose wisely – the day depends on it.

Leaving the highway and turning onto a dusty gravel road, you travel no more than ½ mile and there, standing in the middle of the gravel road, with cut corn fields flat in either direction for at least a mile – stands a thick antlered 8 point buck. He watches as you approach, lights on high beam now – and does nothing. Just stands. Your speed, which was only about 25 mph, slows….. 20… 15…10... 5 and reluctantly, he gives up the road and does a courteous 2-3 steps into the sparkling, frozen corn stubble. He lowers his head and glowers as you drive past. In my mind, he is thinking “should I just go ahead and attack you and put you out of your misery?â€�. No attack occurs and I cover the last mile or so to the farm.

I arrive easily an hour before dawn and park at the cattle gate. For this stand, the walk is very short – two hundred yards across a cut bean field, down a very steep honeysuckle covered hill (not honeysuckle like we know in the south, the vine with the wonderful flowers – this is a very invasive bush type plant) – a hill on which you can fall and get a free ride down to the bottom, if you are not careful and lose your footing – ask me how I know this….

At the bottom of the hill, the stand sits. In the frozen, predawn darkness, up the stand you go. Behind and to the south of you is the hill. As you sit, you face into the wind and sense it almost straight into your face – perhaps with just a hint of NW in it. On the left and west of you is an open cattle gate with an excellent trail coming through it. Out in front and north of you is a small bush covered flat that gives way – at about 80 yards out - to a small creek with hedge trees and honey locust trees. To the right and east of you, where you know the sun will soon appear, is a giant hedge tree with long overhanging branches that point, for all the world to see, at every direction of the compass. I view these branches as indicators that tell me which way the deer will come from – as they point in all directions. I have hunted this area for several years now and the only direction I have NEVER seem them come from is behind the stand – and I only hunt it on a north wind. I know there are deer behind and above me – but my guess is they know I am there and we have reached a semi-agreeable state – they leave me alone and I am powerless to see or hurt them.

In the crisp pre-dawn darkness – I settle. The bow is hung on my left side and easily accessed. The binos and grunt call hang on J hooks welded to the stand. My pack, which seems enormous, is tied on the left front corner of the stand where I can get to it with little commotion. The earth and surrounding areas settles from my intrusion and the quiet closes in. Even in the pre-dawn darkness, the wind is 10 mph or so and has a sharp bite to it. I know this will increase as the sun arrives – which may have already begun, slightly, to wrestle its hold on the blackness over to my right.

A prayer comes to me – asked too many times to count - in this same dark shrouded ritual.

As is always the case, I pray, first, for my wife. I pray for her health and her continued avoidance of the dark shadow of the breast cancer that took her hair, her comfort, a portion of a breast and most of her dignity during a six month period. I pray that I do all I can to respect and love her - as I ask God for forgiveness for the same prayer. Night after night, day after day. The same prayer.

I then pray not for deer. I pray for a steady hand.

I pray not for a shot. I pray that my shot is true.

I pray not to be successful in the hunt. I pray to be true to the hunt.

I pray for Grace and truth in the hunt. I can’t know this yet – but I will, in the coming days, fail in that last prayer – but that is a story for another day. (Tim / Nutt, if you are reading, you already know the story and the sin contained within).

I pray for safety, I thank God for the day and I close with thanks. I thank Him for everything. I know that He knows what I mean.

A flawed man – one with many fault sits - in the darkness.

And waits.

I pour a cup of coffee and tighten my collar a bit as some of the heat that was generated from the short walk leaks away from me. In the dark, the coffee is strong and sweet. The aroma is sharp in my nose, the cup warm in my thinly gloved hands and the taste reminds me of my grandmother’s coffee when I was a child – coffee that kids were allowed to pour into a saucer to cool and sip directly from the saucer. It is a good taste and aroma - and in the black, dark night, provides the comfort of an old, non-judgmental friend. I am here for you – to comfort you. I sip and revel in the taste and also in the crisp, freezing breeze.

The sun will soon bring the change. A thousand shades of charcoal from now – daylight will arrive. Below I hear scurrying and stepping in the darkness – and my mind is simply convinced that the trails are well worn with whopper bucks – but in reality, it may only be a wayward raccoon or perhaps a bobcat with a limp rabbit in its mouth. The breakfast of champions, at least on this cold morning.

In the tiniest of increments, however, the black of night is stolen – or maybe simply displaced? – by the increasing glow in the east. The forest floor begins to come into view – a bush here, the base and limbs of the giant hedge tree and finally, the red of the cattle gate to my left.

The text is too long, see Part # 2 for the second half of the story!

Deer hunting is slow - Part 2 of the story....

Day 6 begins.

As our winged friends leave their nightly sleeping places, the forest starts another day. Frost hangs heavy on some of the taller grasses and you can see the weight of the frozen dew pulling these downward. Their fight is valiant, but with winter coming, the outcome is inevitable. They will lose.

I have not been on this tract for over 60 days (Labor Day, wasn’t it – when we last scouted and trimmed?, you think) and you can see in the newly minted day that things have changed. There is less brush, which is good. You can now pick out some of the network of trails that run in and out of the flat. You can see that the trail through the gate is not as well-worn as you wish it was. You can even see the camera that watches the gate – the camera you have been afraid to come pull. Fear, in this regard, is a good thing. Stay away, some hunter from a thousand years ago had whispered earlier in the week – stay away.

On a hard, cold morning – with an increasing north wind that now bites the exposed nose and brow – the wait begins. That silent vigil, where any movement can be a mistake.Censored A year’s worth of waiting hangs in the balance. Listening and looking, ever looking, for the sign of deer. A doe perhaps? Trailing her now 6 month old fawn with her. Or maybe a single doe – with the sound of sticks breaking and grunting heard in the distance behind her? Maybe a one and a half year old buck, his 6 point rack thrust forward with pride – yet ever fearful. He knows that in these woods, there is a lot to be afraid of. Yes, there is quite a lot to fear and “it” has 4 legs.

A few hours pass with no sign of deer. The day has now bloomed bright and sunny – but the trees have denied me any warmth from the sun yet. My stand is down in a bottom - yet on all sides, rise hills that give way to cut corn and soybean fields. Food. Lots of it. My guess is they are still out there. In the fields. Feeding. It is cold and they need carbohydrates. For fuel. The gravel road that passes this farm sees almost no traffic, I have been here for a few hours now and not one car or truck has passed – I can actually see, through the trees, glimpses of vehicles if and when they pass.

Feet coming into view! Hard on your left, sliding down an embankment – 50 yards or so west of the open cattle gate – which is hard on my left side. My good side! Moving now, no hesitation – he comes into view. Antlers!! and from this distance – which is now about 60 yards as he closes, I see the antlers are tall. Not wide – but tall. With as much stealth as I can muster (I would love to tell you it was like oiled glass, but it wasn’t), I gather the bow. There is no hesitation in his walk – so no time for the binos. He closes now, 20 yards from the gate. I see a good sized body and multiple tines – is this the one? Should I prepare to shoot? Is he coming through the gate? Can this happen now?????

Though the gate he comes and I am ready (I think)…. He clears that gate at 20 yards - and the air leaks out of the balloon. He is a young 8 pointer, perhaps 2.5 years old – about 16” wide with 6-7” G2’s and G3’s – a true beauty. He is tall, long and muscular as he passes. He glides through the gate and into the flat, on a mission and he chooses the Y in the trail that takes him right in front of the stand- he passes within 15 yards. Never erring nor pausing – he continues past the giant hedge tree and is lost to view. I am surprised how quickly the brush obscured him and took him from my view. No more than 30 yards. There is a lesson in this – that same hunter’s voice from a thousand years ago is telling me. I am not listening as well as I should be. Some lessons simply have to be learned the hard way. Many lessons are generated from the most minute of mistakes.

Heart pounding, I settle back against the tree and re-hang the bow. Small mistake number one.

I wait and watch, looking hard to the left to see if he is being followed. Small mistake number two.

Minutes pass and no more traffic is seen from the western quarter. After a quick glance around (remember the part of being constantly on vigil and the fact that a year’s worth of waiting hangs in the balance??), I decide it is time for the morning coffee break. Small mistake number three.

I reach stealthily into my pack and grope for the thermos. Listen, says that voice from a thousand years ago. Listen.

Shaking this off, I grope further into the pack. Small mistake number four.

Generally, we consider the whole to be greater than the sum of its parts. Aristotle said it, so we believe it. Right? Right??? Can we count these very small, minute mistakes as a total that exceed the sum of the parts? I will leave that to you to judge.

The crunching of leaves, when it finally reaches the cognitive part of your brain that creates a circumstance in which you take your head out of your rectum – and literally get back on track and start to look around… sounds like a tree falling.

I jerk my head to the right, mouth agape instantly. With one hand still in the pack and my body partially rotated to the left (and… with the bow still on the hanger hook) – I see a magnificent buck standing no more than 30 yards to the east of me. He is dead center of one of the paths that pass directly in front of the stand. You would think that is a good thing and ordinarily, it would be. The sun, generally above and behind him, illuminates a giant body and antlers that seemingly are 20+ inches wide and half the way to the sky in height. This is where an abrupt end to the good news stops. He is staring directly at me, head down and glowering – now lifting his head and craning forward a bit. Again, the sheer size of his body and the dimensions of his antlers astound me.

I am busted – and I mean big time. I have my hand in the cookie jar and the bow feels like it is 30 feet away instead of 30 inches. Since I do not know WHAT to do, I settle for what seems like the best option. Other than trying to close my eyes to where I can barely see, I do nothing.

Frozen in time and in body stature, I feel a cold strip of skin that runs from the top of my scalp all the way to the small of the back – as the adrenaline dump takes place.

Through near closed eyes, I try to watch. Don’t you DARE move - that voice from a thousand years ago whispers – and finally – this time, I really AM listening. I try to freeze rock steady. My mind, however, is clearly deeply burdened and is in warp drive. I am sure there are some cool customers out there that can immediately settle down and work towards snatching victory from the jaws of defeat – I do not feel like one of those guys right now…..

No movement on the trail. The buck, now simply in my mind it is “he”, remains motionless, other than head movement – slightly left and right but more so up and down, ears moving this way and that. Full alert mode….

The question of whether or not he sees me seems pointless – he is staring directly at me.

But, hey – bucks in November in the Midwest do really stupid things all the time, right? They do, right?? Maybe he will just ignore me and come this way. Maybe he does not understand the danger and will find that his current path is the best path for him….. Maybe.

Maybe not.

Just then, he does something stupid. Remember, though…. I am still frozen with my hand in the cookie jar….

He turns right, which heads him a southerly direction and that puts the giant hedge tree between he and I!!!

I abandon the cookie jar as rapidly as I can – and this time – the bow literally does “jump” right into my hand. I swivel in the stand – all of this unnoticed by the buck – and there is the tiniest of windows in the underbrush as he clears the hedge tree, headed toward the creek. I sight in as quickly as I can and for a brief flicker of time, I am pretty sure I am going to get off a shot – 30 yards – he is walking slowly and if you can believe this, he is not even looking my way!

Brush, brown fur, brush, antlers, an ear and the side of the face, brush, his haunches, brush….his head again, his front legs, brush, brown fur, brush…. And then he is gone…. Gone. As in G-O-N-E, gone.

My mind whirls. Did that just happen? I am an IDIOT and was NOT ready. I should have scanned more before reaching for the coffee…. I should have slowly stood and looked in 360 degrees. My timing is awful, how did I screw up THAT badly???

WHAT?????

I look toward the creek – there he stands in the brush, his head lifted like a giraffe – staring straight at me again. Head – and oh, the antlers – seem to fill the sky. He is staring at me!

Is he taunting me?

Now clearly out of my mind and all reason has been abandoned, I rapidly range him – while he is still staring at me. 44 yards…. I can do this if the conditions get right.

Down goes the head and I lose him. GONE again.

One minute. My heart pounds.

Two minutes…. Did all of that REALLY just happen???

Three minutes – what the heck??? He is now staring at me from a different opening in the brush – basically the same distance, just 2-3 yards further to the left! What in the heck is he doing?????

Down goes the head and again and he is gone from sight – the moments tick off. I sit there stunned, how in the world could something like this happen? What can I do to get this joker to come out? The grunt call? That seems laughable, he knows EXACTLY where I am....WHAT????? There he is again - back in the same hole in the brush I saw him the first time - he is simply standing there staring at me....

He looks for 30 seconds or so - I see him lower his head and can barely make out his profile as he turns east or northeast and appears to head toward the creek.

I sit there - like a sentinel on guard for 30-45 minutes trying to "will" him back into sight - to no avail.

He was there and then was gone - after three cameo appearances. If shotgun hunting, he would have been dead 4 times. With an arrow, he is (as far as I know) still out there at this very moment and starting to grow a new set of antlers!

What he was doing.... I have no idea. Why he did not hightail for parts unknown is beyond me. I think it goes back to what bucks will do during the rut - and of course, I had hoped he would defy all odds and pass by for a broadside shot - and he did - ALMOST. If not for the brush, he was broadside at 30 yards or so, going away at a slight angle before he came back to peer through the bushes.

The rest of the day - nothing. No runs, no hits and no errors.

I know the story was long and if you are still with me, God bless you - you really WANTED to hear a tale.

It is the magic of hunting in the Midwest - where in one day, you MIGHT see as many big bucks in one week as you have seen in the last 20 years in the south.

I warned you earlier about the length of the tale. Forewarned is forearmed.

I will now offer you a second and more ominous warning... one good week in the Midwest and you may well be ruined for hunting in the south. Oh, you will still go and do it - but it MAY NOT BE THE SAME.

So it has been with me. I hunt in SC. And wait for November.

My prayer is that I was able to hold your attention for a while and not leave you terribly disappointed.



Jim




PS:

I am not good at this - I estimate the buck in the story at 150-160". Maybe more but certainly no less. I also estimate his weight well north of 250. I have taken a few that reached this weight or close to it - this guy had a body that looked like a cow.

He comes to me in dreams now - perhaps in November we can meet again.

.

Wow sounds just like the way it happens,great analogy.

Wow!!! I'm in! Waiting on Part II.

Just finished Part II. Very well done Jim! I felt like I was right there with you.

Good one Jim

Mr. Jim
Awesome story! Perfect timing for a great hunting tale. Keep us pumped brother! Truly inspiring my friend.

Great story! I dream about the ones that got away too!

Jim such a wonderfully articulated story. Thank you for taking me away from the desk and up in the tree with you. Your story rivals any I have read in any publication. Stories like this are what got me interested in hunting as a 10 year old. I would read every Field & Stream or Outdoor Life that I could. It seems it never fails that what we all seek will show up at the most inopportune times. More often than not, the opportunity is fleeting, but sometimes, just sometimes, we actually close the deal when we had no real chance at doing so. Wish it would have worked out for you.

Very well written account. I felt like I was there with you. Here's to hoping he makes his way back in front of you this November

Great story Jim,
Looking forward to my trip in 2018 with great anticipation.

Good work Jim my friend!!!!!

Wonderful story Jim, I've made plenty of those little mistakes, and will make plenty more. It's tough when those mistakes cost a opportunity at a Big Buck. But there's nothing like the feeling when it all comes together. Hopefully you will get another chance at him.

excellent read jim.

What a great story Jim, very well written and I have been in your shoes more than once so it was like I could see everything you were writing. It was perfect timing too, I needed a good distraction this morning, I hope you are writing another one soon!!

bulldawgborn said:

Very well written account. I felt like I was there with you. Here's to hoping he makes his way back in front of you this November

Click to expand...

There are some great comments on here about your adventures but I feel most like bulldawgborn as his comments mirror mine just about perfectly and I do hope that you get another chance come November for this monster again.

Jim, even though I have never met you face to face yet, I feel a real connection to you as I have read many of your posts here and as I read them, I really do feel just like I am there with you...whether it be riding north for an entire day to reach the Mid-West area, walking or riding along on the mid-west farms, checking your trailcam photos for that elusive BEAST, holding on for dear-life as the wind and snow are hammering down on you, slipping down into a ravine with a snarl of vines etc, and even sometimes when you are looking face to face with an absolute monster buck while hot vapor is blasting from his nostrils as you are just waiting for him to turn a little to get that best shot on him.

Yes, while reading this Classic Adventure, I really have been sitting on the edge of my seat and somehow, even though it is probably 85 degrees outside today, here I am sitting here at my computer and I am freezing from the cold rain and sleet hitting me right in the face as I am facing northward in your deer-stand !!!

While reading this story, I actually felt so many emotions from good to bad to good to bad etc and I have experienced some of these same type things as a deer hunter over the years. Trust me though, they were nothing like the beasts that you hunt in the Mid-West.

Thank You for giving all of us an opportunity to live this adventure through your eyes and your feelings.





ps: In all seriousness, I think that your adventure would make a fine story for every deer hunter to read and I hope that maybe an opportunity comes up so that your story can be published where it belongs.

Guys –

Your comments are entirely too kind.

The post was basically a story almost about nothing and with no real ending – well, at least not with some ending that was finite or perhaps heartwarming.

It is not really a story about loss, either… as a deer is not something you can own in the first place.

I think of hunters who consistently harvest mature animals and I realize that – at my age – not only will I not ever be one of these guys – I was never really in their league in my youth. I say that with no sadness or even disappointment.

Does this mean that my experiences were somehow “less”? Of course not. They are, in many instances, engraved in my memory.

Keith (TechFire) – I am genuinely looking forward to you accompanying me next year. I think you consider me a mentor – but in reality, particularly where integrity and spiritual grace are concerned, I have learned more from you than I could ever hope to teach you. I will borrow a line from the post. Will you see blood and a thick antlered beast lying on the ground? Maybe. Maybe not. My wager is that you will SEE said beast – on the hoof – and perhaps a few of them. The problem, which I think you know – is one of timing, speed, distance, awareness, luck, wind, elevation, equipment, weather, mental fortitude, shadows, brush, angles… you name it….

You will be there (week 2 of November) at a time when anything is possible and many things are probable.


For those of you who have asked if there could be additional stories – the answer is an easy yes.

I have another tale to tell – it was a scant few days beyond this last adventure – but it is fraught with problems and I have to wrap my mind around it a little better before I can tell it. Nutt knows the gist of the event and has asked for the story. I will work to oblige.


With that said, I will say this also – I have a fictional tale I wrote over a multi-year span. If anyone would like to read it, simply send me your email address via PM or text and I will send you a .pdf copy. I think I have basically been slightly afraid to share it with folks because of fear of a bad review or rejection. I started to use the term writer, but I think you have to prove yourself before you can use that term – so, yes, I will be glad to share the story and would look forward to comment – positive and negative. The story has not been properly edited and has some errors, so I would ask some grace before you start reading. It will likely take an hour or so to read, though.


Many, many thanks –

Jim

Jim first off you have your priorities in line(imho from what I read) i have made that long ride back home grinng from ear to ear with a giant in the back. I have also made more trips back with tags in my backpack next to a can of pork n beans. But never have I came back not counting the days till the next November. So much to experience up there that i can't at home. Hope the wife is still doing well.
By the way I will be in Scott county this year. If it's a reasonable distance I will attempt to come and meet you in person and maybe gaze at beast you have put on the ground.

Keith - this story was in Scott county - the extreme southeastern corner of the county.

When will you be there and where are you staying?

I'll be in my camper. Should get there on the 10th or 11th. The farm is actually in Scott and Adam county. Mostly Scott though. This will be my first private land hunt!

Jim, you know my thoughts on your story already. Keep on keeping on old fella.

November is just around the corner and that midwest call is strong!