The School of Hard Knocks

You have to love October. The cooler weather means that another hunting season is upon us, and it’s time to get back into the woods. Squirrel hunting begins on the first Saturday, and the archery and primitive weapons deer seasons are not far behind.

I have written before about what my wife, Carol, calls “Terry moments,” or those myriad mishaps I sometimes have in the outdoors. I thought I’d share some more with you this month as a warning to be careful out there.

If a Terry Moment draws blood, Carol usually becomes involved because she’s the one who has to take me to the emergency room. She got a glimpse of what was in store for her long ago when we were fiancés teaching school in DeRidder. I convinced her to go squirrel hunting with me in Whiskey Chitto bottom one warm October afternoon, and we managed to kill a big fox squirrel. 

Back at my place, I was stripping off the skin with my thumb and knife blade when my thumb suddenly slipped. I knew immediately I was cut, instinctively closed my fist tightly, and looked down to see blood seeping between my fingers. Upon a closer examination, it didn’t look too bad, so we went into the kitchen expecting to just wash it off and put on a Band-Aid. 

If a Terry Moment draws blood, Carol usually becomes involved because she’s the one who has to take me to the emergency room.

We washed and applied pressure and washed and applied pressure, but nothing worked.  After thirty minutes I finally decided this called for medical attention. 

At the emergency room I showed the cut to the doctor and asked him why it wouldn’t stop bleeding. He nonchalantly explained, “Well, it’s because you have a little artery right there where you sliced it. It’s going to keep bleeding until we stitch it up.”

I returned to school with a big bandage on my right thumb and suspect the students at DeRidder Junior High were secretly thrilled because I couldn’t wield my paddle for a couple of weeks.

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Another incident that left me bloody occurred on an early morning deer hunt. Before daylight, I followed an old logging road for nearly a mile to get to a spot where I had killed a couple of bucks before.

It was still too dark to shoot when I sat on the wet ground and leaned back against a small oak tree. I hadn’t been there long when a deer snorted behind me. I looked around the tree, only to see a white tail bounding through the dark woods.

A few minutes later, I looked back again and saw another deer walking along the same trail. It was far behind my left side, but I eased up my rifle, twisted around awkwardly, and saw antlers through the scope. When I pulled the trigger, the Ruger 7mm Magnum roared and jolted me to the bone.

I jumped up and ran over to where the deer was standing and found a nice five point lying motionless on the ground. It was only then that I felt something running down my nose. After wiping it off, I saw my fingers were covered in blood. 

In my awkward position I was unable to keep a firm grip on the rifle, and its recoil drove the scope smack into my forehead. When I finally got back to the truck and looked at myself in the mirror, blood was smeared all over my face and there was a nice half-moon gash near my right eyebrow. But I got the deer and that’s what mattered.  

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An expensive Terry Moment occurred during one primitive weapons season when I borrowed my brother Danny’s muzzle loading rifle. It was a .50 caliber Hawken, and I was going to test various loads to see which one was most accurate. Not having a shooting bench, I decided to just rest the rifle over the cab of my truck and shoot at a target about fifty yards away.

After ramming down 100 grains of FFg black powder and a patched round ball, I fired and walked over to the target to find I had hit it dead center. I was feeling rather smug walking back to the truck but then noticed that the windshield shimmered oddly in the sunlight. 

About two steps more and it suddenly dawned on me that what initially looked like sun reflection was actually shattered glass. The muzzle blast had magically transformed some small nicks and cracks into one giant spider web of destruction. 

I hope everyone heads to the woods this month and has a good season, but be safe.

Dr. Terry L. Jones is professor emeritus of history at the University of Louisiana at Monroe and has received numerous awards for his Civil War books and outdoor articles.