Old Hunter, Old Deer

The "Methuselah" story is going to take time to do right. I'll keep on working on it off-line, but go on to other stuff in this space.

Here is a photograph I took of Harold and Methuseleh from Monday evening.

Look at it carefully. And then just leave it on the table in quiet for awhile.

Harold and Methuselah



6 thoughts on “Old Hunter, Old Deer

  1. This reminds me of my husband’s long-time friend Rick, who spent the last half of his life as a charter boat owner-operator, catching trophy blue marlin in Hawaii. For many years, he and his boat were famous during the hey-days of the Kona Billfish annual tournaments, when fishermen from around the world chartered boats to fish for marlin.
    After Rick retired, he went fishing in Australia, where he caught a white marlin weighing over 1100 lbs. One night while we were visiting, he related the fishing tale to my husband, who was staring at the impressive mount on Rick’s wall.
    Rick had recently been diagnosed with leukemia, and though we didn’t know it then, it was the last time we saw him alive. I happened to glance at Rick about the time he told us how old the fish had to be. I heard something in his voice and caught a glistening of tears in his eyes, as he said, “I wish I hadn’t killed it. I wish I’d let it go. Shame to catch such a magnificent fish as this.”


  2. Gully — Younger shooters are almost always quicker on the trigger. But if you were a wasting, toothless old buck in the woods, would you prefer to go out (anthropomorphic, I know) answering a grunt call and taking one clean bullet or shredded in the night by one of the local packs of coyotes? No easy way out for any of us two or four legged creatures.


  3. Understand totally, Beth. I was trying to describe the irony of a man who had caught, released and/or bagged many, many billfish over the years, with a man facing his own death sentence and his symbiotic relationship with that huge white marlin. Irony comes from places we least expect it, and there are many tales therein. What I see on Harold’s face as he strokes that old deer is the same expression I saw on my friend Rick’s face. And this has kicked my muse in the butt for the first time in many weeks, Off to cogitate. No, actually, I’m off to watch Medium on TV.


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