I am not a Pusillanimous!

   If you have kept up with my long narratives about my life on this Blog, you would know that I grew up in Wisconsin. Like all of the States in the United States of today, the Wisconsin I grew up in, is not the same Wisconsin of Two-Thousand-Eighteen.
   Everywhere and everyday, more and more people are encroaching on the wilderness and land once owned by farmers. Thank God for the City, County, State, and Federal Parks, where some animal species have adapted and are surviving.
   In Wisconsin for instance, there are no longer Pheasants roaming around the fields, where a young boy or girl could use a bow and arrow to hunt them down. Today, they have Pheasant Farms. Where you pay to go pheasant hunting on a Farmer's land, after he releases a few birds he has been breeding.
   Right or wrong, left or right, up or down. It is what it is.
   I was about twenty years old, working at a place called "Crane Manufacturing." Which is no longer in business. And a bunch of my co-workers asked if I wanted to go deer hunting with them during the Thanksgiving break.
   It is such a tradition in Wisconsin, to go deer hunting, that the company would ask you if you wanted time off, with no pay, to go hunting and their would be no repercussions.
   And at that time, my philosophy on life was due to a bumper sticker.

"A Bad Day Of Fishing, Is Still Better Then A Good Day At Work!"

   I'll take any day off of work, anytime.

Well, we went "up north" as they say, to northern Wisconsin, were one of these fellows had some land. We got up really early the first day and set up a plan to spread out in a line formation, moving forward into the woods.

   The rule was, you can only shoot in "front of you." If you see a deer jump up, on either side of you, and you take a shot, the other guys have the right to take your weapon away.

   Logical enough.

   It was a long day, where I didn't sight one deer. We gathered together and were walking back to the cabin, when one of the guys spotted a doe eating grass in an opened area, next to a pond.

   The guys all knew I was the rookie of the bunch, so they all said, "Go ahead Jim. Take the shot."

   I couldn't. I aimed the riffle, but I couldn't take the shot and kill that deer.

   After the doe ran off, we all went to the cabin and started drinking beer.
   That is when one of them said, "Jim. You are a real pusillanimous."
   They all started laughing at me. I thought he was using some kind of vulgarity to describe me!
   I didn't find out until after the hunting trip was over, when I got back home, what "Pusillanimous" meant.
   And they were calling me that word for a week straight!
   I am not a Pusillanimous!
   I am brave, bold, and courageous. 
   If you don't take me hunting.

This is,

Remember,

Shooting The First One Is The Hardest,

Jim Hauenstein,

And,

“The fascination of shooting as a sport depends almost wholly on whether you are at the right or wrong end of the gun.”
- P.G. Wodehouse, -

That is my story and I am sticking to it!

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