This little spike walks right in on me when I'm chasing that girl over at the Levitt's place. But he's got so little curve on those needle points that when we mesh, he spears me right through my rack. Just missed my eye. He got the message. Don't talk that way, Len.
Antlers are a whitetail's glory.
Hey, don't get hostile. Lemme tell you something, my friend. Come this time of year, glory is not meeting up with a Nosler Partition with your name on it. Gimme six squares and a secure place to chew my cud, and I'm one happy ruminant. Hundred yards from hunting camp in a brushpile.