Friday, July 12, 2019
One of my many memories has to be when Paul Platt took me deer hunting on November 13, 1983. That was my first and only time for killing a deer. It was an experience I will never forget. Since then I have hunted with a camera. We road on a elevated back seat of a jeep driven by an old friend of Pauls. We stopped when a young buck appeared out of some trees. Paul gave me the first shot at him. There was a bush between me and the deer so I was waiting for the deer to move. In the mean time Paul was egging me on to shoot, shoot, shoot or he would. Since he had a clear shot. So I shot and hit the deer through both shoulders ruining most of the meat. Our driver finished him off with a knife since my shot didn’t put him out of his misery. He also showed me, by doing it himself, how to process the young, seventy-five pound, three point buck. I grilled the meat at my Mom’s house. When I made my last trip to the grill someone closed the sliding glass door which, when I tried to walk through it, caused the meat platter to fall right at my feet. It brought a whole new meaning to the three second rule. He also took me Pheasant hunting. I did get one. I had to drag it out of a canal using the borrowed shot guns barrel. We road his Air Boat one morning looking for poachers. There had been hunters trespassing and killing his cattle. Lucky for the poachers we didn’t catch any. That would have, how ever, been something to watch Paul process one of them like he did my deer. Thanks for the memories Paul Platt. Condolences to the Platt Family.
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