Bill Owens died a week ago. He was passionate about hunting and fishing, cherished every opportunity to be outdoors.
For many years I lived near Bill in south Iola. Charlie Turley was across the alley from him. We all hunted deer, back when whitetails were a challenge to spot.
Charlie and I became friends when I joined him on trips to watch his son, C.J., play football at Emporia State. Hunting was a frequent subject on our road trips.
With the archery deer season coming on, I weaseled my way to join Charlie, who could have written a book on surviving outdoors, on hunts.
A day that still stands out was 50-odd years ago.
We met well before dawn at a familiar expanse of timber south of Humboldt. Bill had grown up in Humboldt, and for years the site had been one of my favorite destinations to hunt squirrels. Few places existed that Charlie hadnt explored.
Charlie headed for his favorite tree, which he easily scaled. Bill also had one in mind. I found an easy enough one to climb and settled into a comfortable fork.
As the morning wore on to full light, a doe moseyed past. I waited for the customary buck to follow, but none did.
I then heard a commotion and soon a handsome buck ran from the brush to the east. He carried a back leg, though the injury barely affected his gait.
Bill and Charlie walked out, concentrating on the bucks exit point. I scurried over.
Bill had had a good look at the deer and when he launched an arrow it somehow was deflected, hitting the leg.
The deer had headed south, leaving a trail dotted by a bit of blood every now and then.
Bill had reservations about finding the deer. Nonsense, Charlie said, certain we would find him.
This was at about 10 a.m. and off we went, each of us slowly scouring the ground for tracks or blood. After a couple of hours we were only a mile south of the timber, following a trail that zigged and zagged and was interrupted by a couple of crop fields.
By mid-afternoon we found the buck. He had expired on the bank of the Neosho, lying a good two miles from where his fate was sealed.
I doubt if at the time I had the skill and fortitude to find the deer. Bill and Charlie, with their wide-ranging outdoors experiences, did.
