GEEZERS DO IT BETTER

I’m not exactly sure at which age one achieves this milestone. The realization came over me gradually, spurred by the fact that my son began calling me a geezer for fun when he was in the eighth grade after I called him a twerp for some reason I cannot remember. And I thought I was seeing more deer.

I knew I was actually reaching geezer status when, a few years later, this same son, whose real name is Bryant, and a good friend’s son dragged a whitetail I had shot uphill faster than I could follow them carrying only my rifle — a light rifle, at that.

THE ESSENTIALS

This may be a different list from what you’re expecting; I will explain as we go along. To be a true geezer, take a cell phone, binoculars, sandwich and an apple for lunch, bottle of water or Thermos of hot drink — “A cookie and a cup of coffee are nice when you’re getting cold,” my Dad said — camera, seat cushion, knife and small saw for field-dressing your deer, drag rope (or UTV if you can drive to the deer you will tag), folding seat, hunting license and toilet paper (unless you prefer grass), and, oh yeah, firearm, cartridges and license.

My hearing isn’t what it once was. I now have hearing aids. Easy, real easy, to forget them, particularly in a sport where we’re more visually cued. One of the larger bucks I missed I didn’t hear coming (on relatively noisy bare leaf ground cover) and was caught off guard. I missed