The Lost Woods: Stories

Call Me Bubba

129 Call Me Bubba 2010 Elvin Chapman Call฀me฀B ubba.฀I฀w on’t฀tell฀you฀my฀real฀name฀’cause฀c ertain฀people฀ might฀read฀this฀and฀come฀looking฀for฀me.฀All฀the฀names฀here฀have฀ been฀changed฀to฀protect฀the฀guilty. ฀ I฀take฀people฀hunting฀down฀here฀on฀the฀coast฀of฀Alabama.฀But฀this฀year฀ these฀lawyer฀types฀who฀are฀the฀backbone฀of฀my฀business—the฀hunters฀I฀ work฀with฀every฀year—have฀become฀the฀damn฀bane฀of฀my฀existence. ฀ My฀sp ecialty฀is฀the฀au tumn฀d ove฀h unt—there’s฀nothing฀q uite฀lik e฀ it.฀September฀and฀Oc tober฀are฀something฀to฀behold฀down฀here฀around฀ Mobile.฀The฀heavy฀heat฀and฀h umidity฀vanish฀as฀if ฀someone flicked฀off฀a฀ switch,฀and฀the฀air฀is฀cool฀and฀breezy฀without฀ever฀getting฀cold. ฀ Have฀you฀ever฀seen฀the฀sun฀going฀down฀in฀October฀on฀the฀Gulf฀Coast฀ in฀Alabama?฀The land is flat so that the sunset฀seems฀to฀last฀forever.฀The฀ long,฀slow฀descent,฀the฀honey-colored฀light฀angling฀through฀the฀pine฀trees.฀ Makes฀you฀think฀that฀Go d฀himself฀is฀coming฀to฀see฀you,฀walking฀in฀the ฀ cool฀of฀evening฀sort฀of฀like฀he฀did฀in฀Genesis. ฀ But฀these฀lawyers฀I฀take฀hunting฀get฀worse฀every฀year.฀Times฀are฀hard฀ down฀here.฀Now฀I฀know฀that฀everybody฀says฀how฀things฀are฀getting฀better฀ with฀the฀economy฀and฀all,฀but฀seems฀to฀me฀it’s฀a฀real฀slow฀improvement.฀ What’s฀more,฀folks฀ain’t฀the฀same฀as฀the y฀were฀before฀the฀crash.฀They’ve฀ become฀ornery฀and฀mean.฀Greedy. Call฀Me฀Bubba 130 ฀ Take฀these฀la wyers.฀They’re฀big฀spenders.฀They฀compete฀all฀week฀for฀ clients.฀Or฀they฀argue฀against฀one฀another฀in฀court.฀You฀think฀they’ll฀come฀ out฀here฀and฀play฀nice?฀They’re฀all฀crack฀shots.฀You฀get฀one฀of฀these฀boys฀ on฀a฀spree฀where฀the฀birds฀come฀right฀to฀him,฀and฀he฀hits฀every฀one.฀Well,฀ the฀others฀are฀pisse d฀’cause฀he ’s฀b eating฀them฀to฀the฀limit. ฀He’s฀going฀ home฀from฀the฀h unt฀in฀t ime฀to฀watch฀Alabama฀whip฀up฀o n฀Georgia฀or฀ South฀Carolina,฀bragging฀all฀the฀way. ฀ So฀they฀go฀to฀moving฀around฀from฀the฀stands฀I฀pu t฀’em฀on,฀seeing฀if฀ they can find a better฀spot.฀While฀there’s฀shooting฀going฀on,฀I฀mean. ฀ I฀put฀them฀on฀the฀ stands฀with฀their฀dogs฀and฀ blinds฀and฀come฀back฀ towards฀e vening,฀j ust฀to฀b e฀s ure฀the฀far mer’s฀land฀hasn ’t฀b een฀messe d฀ up,฀and฀I฀can ’t find nobody.฀And฀then฀I฀hear฀’e m฀shooting฀down฀there฀ amongst฀the฀cows.฀And฀I฀got฀to฀go฀get฀’em,฀hoping I find them฀before฀the฀ farmer฀does. ฀ So฀I฀talk฀safety฀with฀everybody฀at฀the฀beginning฀of฀the฀hunts.฀Bring฀hot฀ coffee฀for฀everybody฀so฀they’ll฀all฀listen.฀I฀tell฀them฀that฀we’re฀here฀to฀have฀ a฀good฀time฀and฀that฀there’s฀no฀need฀to฀be฀greedy฀about฀the฀birds.฀There’s฀ plenty฀for฀everybody.฀Safety฀first.฀Respect฀for฀the฀farmer’s฀property.฀Respect ฀for฀the฀law.฀They฀have฀to฀shoot฀above฀shoulder฀level฀at฀all฀times—no฀ exceptions.฀Second,฀they฀got฀to฀stay฀where฀I฀put฀them.฀There’s฀cows฀and฀ property฀all฀around฀them.฀This฀is฀not฀ my฀land฀and฀not฀ their฀land.฀We’re฀ both฀paying฀the฀farmers฀to฀be฀here.฀Then฀I฀get฀them฀to฀sign฀a฀release. ฀ Well฀this฀afternoon,฀old฀Marvin฀we’ll฀call฀him,฀one฀of฀the฀big-time฀lawyers ,฀leans฀on฀the฀hood฀of฀his฀black฀Range฀Rover฀and฀reads฀over฀the฀release฀ and฀looks฀back฀up฀at฀me. ฀ “I’ll฀sign฀this,฀Bubba.฀But฀you฀know฀a฀man฀can’t฀sign฀away฀his฀rights.฀ In฀court฀this฀paper฀won’t฀be฀worth฀shit.”฀He’s฀holding฀it฀up฀b etween฀his฀ thumb฀and฀his฀index finger฀like฀it฀ain’t฀worth฀shit฀now. ฀ Arnie,฀we’ll฀call฀him,฀his฀archrival,฀is฀standing฀r ight฀across฀from฀him,฀ leaning฀back฀against฀his฀Tahoe,฀stroking฀the฀head฀of฀his฀yellow฀Lab,฀Bambi.฀ He฀smiles฀and฀says,฀“Go฀on฀and฀sign฀it,฀Marvin.฀Go฀on฀and฀sign฀the฀man’s฀ document,฀Moondoggie.฀Ain’t฀nobody฀goin’฀to฀court฀over฀a฀d ove฀hunt.” ฀ Then฀he฀adds฀with฀a฀low฀chortle,฀“Course฀you฀might.” Call฀Me฀Bubba 131...