November 14: Terry Drury

Opening day of Missouri’s firearm season is where it all began for me. Countless hours of staring out of a classroom window all through high school and particularly in college (being away from home) led to many Dreams of “Big Antlers”.

Fast forward some 35 or 40 years and much has changed, but not the anticipation of Missouri’s season. Now as I sit and wait for that monster to somehow magically appear, reflection is the first word that comes to mind. Cold, cold feet of yesteryear being the most vivid! That pair of steel-toed leather Red Wings just didn’t seem to cut the mustard. A 30-30 Marlin somehow became a “Brush Gun” to a Midwestern timber ridge hunter. Good friends thought it jovial to eat your packed lunch leaving nothing but empty wrappers. Easy to see why we love it so much. Guess what, those are some of the fondest memories. But now, we’re creating new ones only better!

I am sitting along side of Matt Drury (professional videographer who better not mess this up) and it goes down something like this. Full moon allows us to get rolling about 8:30 or 9 a.m., but nooo we still get up at 4:30 a.m. and venture out into the dark for what reason I don’t know. Only now we crawl into a cushy box blind with a couple of heaters and the best gear we could possibly want to hunt with (LUCKY) and sit and wait. We eat our snack at about 8:45 a.m., catch 40 winks, and watch a bunch of turkeys and about 15-20 deer but no shooters.

We eat lunch then head to another box blind for the afternoon sit. This one even cozier. Soft? Yes, in my old age admittedly.

At approximately 2 p.m. Matt turns inside out “….oh (expletive)! Shooter. Big shooter right here!!!” As he fumbles for the camera, more urgent then I have ever seen or heard him in my life. I’m thinking hmmm must be a nice one. Quickly we trip over each other attempting to change places…I glance out the window and bruiser is already past us down wind of this box. Uh-oh, I slowly open the back door deliberately peak the barrel out and ask Matt (professional videographer) on him? “Yes.” He replies. And just that quickly a Thompson Center 308 at 35 yards shows how devastating it can be. I lose view of him…Matt says “Right, right, right!” as he rolls down a creek bank and out of sight. Dead.

Amazement, star struck, shell shocked all of the above and we’re giggling like a couple of little schoolgirls. A 5 ½ or 6 ½ year old 10 point. 150” plus reminded me of why we do this sport called “Hunting”. Plus, best of all I got to share it with Matt.

Moral of the story…my fondest memories are still being created…only better. Ya gotta love it!