Pat Talks to Wildlife

Howdy, Neighbor. People have been telling Phil he's a good storyteller for a long time... so we are trying something new and pretty-much non-sales Just sharing occasional sweet stories, tall tales, and life lessons learned around these parts.Northwoods Notes are a new, semi-bi-irregular peek into the heart and mind of Phil Frasier… you can read or listen... whichever you prefer... and you are receiving a copy because you're a current customer of Frasier's Plumbing, Heating & Cooling. We think you'll like them, but you can unsubscribe any time by clicking on the link at the bottom. But we hope you give us a chance!

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One day back in 1986, a friend invited me to go deer hunting at her place.

Her name was Pat. And there was nothing ordinary about her. She built houses during the day. She bartended at night. She was a mink farmer. She was a logger. Pat did just about everything you can imagine to survive.

I showed up at Pat’s place with my Herter’s recurve, my tree bark overalls, Zwickey broadheads, and cedar strip arrows.

She looked at me and said, “Come on, I’m gonna take you and you’re going to get a deer.”

Get a deer? I was bow hunting. You don’t just “get a deer.” It takes time, skill, and preparation.

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As I started wiping my clothes down with balsam boughs, she snarled, “What the heck are you doing!?”

I told her I was bow hunting, so I had to get close.

Pat snorted and said I shouldn’t worry about all that stuff. “Okay,” I thought. “This lady has no clue.”

Then, Pat ordered me to get my tail on the four-wheeler. She had a bucket strapped on the front.

We headed back into the woods, clanging and banging the whole way.

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After we pulled up to the tree line, Pat pointed at a big Popple tree with her rugged finger and told me to climb up and take my stand, which I promptly did.

As my bow was dangling from my pull rope, Pat was down below me talking up a storm. She sounded like one, too. Hurricane Pat. She didn’t know any other volume but loud.

The whole time I’m thinking, “What a joke. I’m not going to see a single deer.”

Pat hollered, “ARE YOU READY!?”

“Ready for what?” I thought.

She then proceeded to bang away on the bucket hanging off the front of her four-wheeler. Then she hopped on and sped away.

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I kid you not, Pat was still in sight when twelve deer came running in! Pat, with her enormous voice and boisterous bucket banging, had summoned the deer out of hiding.

I was convinced. Pat could talk to the animals.

(This was 1986, so you could bait back then... so the apples didn’t hurt either.)

I wound up harvesting a nice deer that afternoon.

Pat loved the Northwoods. She loved the outdoors. She lived it. I bet you could take the collective sum of lifetime kills of ten Wisconsin deer hunters and Pat’s total would probably double theirs.

I hope your hunting camp has a Pat in it this year.

Take care, neighbor. Take good care.

P.S. – One time I even saw her call in a turtle. She hollered, “Here Charlie! Here Charlie!” and the turtle came swimming right up to her. I’m telling ya... Pat talked to wildlife.

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