Out of the tree and beginning a lifelong effort for the cause of the Great Outdoors – Problem Solved! The National Avenue Buck and the One-Eyed Hillbilly.
In life you only need a crutch if you are taught and then accept that you need one. To that end, the beginnings of our character in life are instilled in us by our parents. After home, young folk’s character is further refined by our hometown teachers, church folks, business folks, family, and friends as they set important examples that influence how the younger generations develop. In the hills you learn early that everyone has difficulties in life and you simply overcome and get on with it. If you’ve got no cash and your truck window is broken out, then a trash bag and duct tape will keep out the rain. Problem solved. If you want a sling for your squirrel rifle but can’t get to town, then bailing twine will keep the gun on your shoulder. Problem solved. If you loose an eye, you still have one good one left so don’t hide from it, rather, embrace it, laugh about it, and get an eye patch and a Sunday-go-to-meetin’ glass eye and then use it to your advantage. Problem solved!
Now a problem not so easily solved is when a one-eyed hillbilly leaves the country to live in the big city for the first time and he’s as green as green gets about folks outside the hills and some of their misguided opinions about harvesting game from Mother Nature. I left for college in Springfield, Missouri in the fall of 1986. At that time I had no idea that some folks actually believed that humans didn’t have a right to participate as part of the whole in the circle of life in nature. I was, however, about to find out the hard way and a result was the nickname ‘One-Eyed Hillbilly’ forever being a humorous handle that has stuck with me.
The fall of 1986 found me living in the ΠKA fraternity house on National Avenue across the street from the SMSU campus. This was the first time in my hunting career that I was away from home during deer season. It was too far to drive two hours home to hunt and still get back to class at college. God works in mysterious ways because, out of the blue, a fraternity brother, Tom Noyes, saved the day (and a week’s worth of school absences) by asking me if I wanted to hunt on his grandparent’s farm 30 minutes north toward Bolivar, MO on the Sak River. My prayers were answered!
The first evening, after seeing 11 does and yearlings, finding an enormous amount of deer sign, and stumbling into an incredible core area of a good buck, I was excited to get back to the spot the next morning. Of course after making the mistake of telling several of my fraternity brothers about the discovery, the next morning we had five additional hunters in the bronco headed for the Sak River. After dropping off hunters along the 2 mile bottom farm I was the last to head for the woods. I figured with all the hunters in the fields I would head for the nearest brush and look for paths in hopes that a good buck would make a beeline to the spot when the hunters stirred them up. As it rarely happens, the plan worked perfectly and a great 140 class 8 pointer ran right passed me while making his escape from the hunters in the fields. Two shots from my Marlin .30-30 and this great Missouri buck was mine.
Now any hillbilly can tell you what the first thing an 18 year old boy does when he harvests a 140 inch deer. First, he’s going to show it off at the check station, then he’s going to show it off to his buddies, and finally, he’s going to hang it in a tree to age it and show it off some more. I did just that and hung it in the only tree on the property in front of the Pike House on National Avenue in Springfield, Missouri. I then stood there like a giant proud statue of Howdy Doodie with a grin from ear to ear, waving to all the folks driving past the house honking and giving me the thumbs-up.
After several hours of picture taking, high fives, and inquisitive and enthusiastic visitors, a fraternity brother came outside and said, “Hey Stephens, you have a call from the dean’s office.” Ya, right, I thought to myself. In a fraternity there are more practical jokes and pranks pulled than in an episode of Hee Haw. I bit anyway and answered the phone. It was a lady claiming to be from the dean’s office telling me I had to remove the deer from the tree on National Avenue. I said, “Mam, I don’t know which one of the Pike Little Sisters you are but I’m not buying this.” And I hung up the phone laughing and went back outside. Ten minutes later a second call from the dean’s office was directed to the president of the fraternity, Dave King. They apparently convinced him that this wasn’t a prank and with an astonished look on his face he hung up the phone and said, “Greg, we have to take down the buck.” Another fraternity brother, Derek Robinson from Kansas City, laughed out loud and said, “Stephens, you dumb one-eyed hillbilly, you hung up on the dean’s office!” Apparently, out of the approximately 50,000 cars (according to the City of Springfield traffic division) that passed by daily, there was someone who didn’t know the proper procedure for caring for a harvested deer!
That was the first time I was ever called a one-eyed hillbilly and from that day forward it prevailed over Cyclops, popeye, dead-eye, squint, and any other one-eyed monikers that I’ve fondly been called by friends for the past 33 years. At the time I was dumbfounded. I mean, this is what you do with a deer when you harvest one. I eventually did take down the buck and immediately became very active in the cause of all outdoorsmen in telling the truth about interacting within nature. I devoted an entire semester in my public speaking class to giving speeches about hunting versus the animal rights movement. I also learned to laugh at myself a little more. We hillbillies may be naïve about the outside world but we catch up fast when it comes to affecting our way of life within Mother Nature. The Great Outdoors, like the Ozark Hills, builds character and teaches lessons to young folks that are learned few other places. All we need to do is teach the younger generations the truth about our place within nature and their character will carry our legacy and our outdoor heritage into the future. Problem solved. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.
Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.
