Dave Beck

A long time ago I took an English Composition course. I can remember it like I can remember the last fish I caught, or the last shed deer antler I found. There were two assignments from that class that have had a lasting effect over much of my life. The first was a demonstrative paper describing a task. My topic was how to clean a catfish from start to finish. The second paper was about “My Favorite Place.” I wrote about a tree stand in the Mississippi River bluffs overlooking a river coulee. From that perch I could wave at Minnesota and passing flocks of geese at the same time. After turning in those assignments, I received a note to go see my English professor. 

I don’t think that I have ever told anyone about that “Favorite Place” assignment until last weekend when I was shed hunting in that very spot with my brother Garret. While walking that ridge, I could remember the basket rack eight-point buck that gave me the shakes so bad that I doubt that I could have hit him even if he had given me a chance. I started to remember details that surely would have never resurfaced had we not walked that spot.  

Garret and I walked the “Back 40” and beyond, taking turns sharing stories we had never shared with each other. Suddenly I told Garret to stop right where he was, turn to his left, and take three steps towards me. On his third step I stopped him again. He looked at me without any idea why I had him take those steps.   

I said: “Take a look under your left boot.” Under the sole of his boot was a two-point shed deer antler trapped like it was a snake. The next thing I said was: “Now take a look behind your right boot.” He turned his torso without moving his feet, looked to the ground and saw the other half of the matched set of antlers. 

“Geez, I almost tripped over them,” he said with a grin and we laughed like wevwere little kids.   

We walked and talked about our past hunts and near misses with big bucks always being the focal point of each story. As we neared Garret’s “Honey Hole,” we each picked a different direction and split up. I went west and he went south but only for a few steps before Garret stopped me. “Come here” he said with a broad smile which told me that it was going to be something good. Even though I was 20 yards away I could see why he was smiling. Once again, almost in his muddy boot prints, was a monster heavy four point shed deer horn. What made it so humorous was how he described finding it: “I almost tripped on this one as well and it’s huge!” Oh, how we laughed again. 

Our shed hunt ended after we searched for but never found the matching antler. That hallowed ground gained a few more stories that day and more reasons why I always thought of that as “My Favorite Place.”   

Oh, what did my professor want? She wanted me to change my major to English or Journalism. 

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