One fine fall day in mid-season we decided it was time to leave the cabin and make an attempt at a deer drive. Standers were assigned their spots and four of “the brothers” started down the field road to get to the other end of the woods and start the drive. We had only gone a short distance when brother Tom whispered, “deer!”. Sure enough, 120 yards down, a nice doe was eating acorns under an oak tree right on the side of the road. We were caught in the open with nowhere to hide, but the deer seemed totally unaware of our presence. After a quickly convened family meeting it was decided that brother Glen, the youngest, should do the shooting. Glen took careful aim and let fly with a round from his .308. The dirt kicked up at the deer’s feet,but it continued to eat, oblivious to the commotion down the road. “Higher” someone whispered. Glen fired another round and managed to trim a branch right over the deer’s head. “Lower” was the unanimous verdict on that shot. And so it continued, brothers offering advice and Glen spraying lead to all points of the compass. Eventually he ran out of ammo so Tom offered his gun and the circus continued. Through all this commotion the deer was totally unconcerned, obviously word of the Virnig gang’s marksmanship had previously reached the wildlife community. After approximately 15 non-lethal shots the doe appeared perturbed at the interruption of it’s lunch hour and wandered off. Later in the day we ran into a neighboring party. They asked us how many deer were in the herd we were shooting at around noon. We just cast a knowing glance at each other and kept silent. Family honor was at stake.

Happy Birthday Steve!

Mike and RoseAnn

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