The Cabin Tour
I took some photos around the place. Made myself at home. The hunter's gonna be real surprised when he gets back.
How a twelve-point buck ended up with a gaming channel.
Look, I'm not gonna pretend like this was some big plan. It wasn't. Here's what happened.
Last November — and I don't like talking about November, for obvious reasons — I was running through the woods, minding my own business. Heard some shots. Ran faster. Ended up behind this cabin way out in the sticks. The hunter wasn't home. Door was open. I went in.
Found the gaming setup in the living room. Big screen. RGB keyboard. A whole shelf of hunting games — which, by the way, is a weird thing to come home to when you're the thing being hunted. But I sat down. Turned on the Xbox. And I haven't left since.
The hunter still hasn't come back. I changed the locks. I'm getting mail delivered here now. My buddy the bear comes over on weekends and we play games together. My pops — the old billy goat — visited once and couldn't figure out what a controller was. Becky the cow comes by when I'm playing farm games to tell me I'm doing everything wrong. The hound showed up one day and just... never left. I know the feeling.
I've got a wolf who comes by for horror games. A ram who cries every time I kill a sheep in Minecraft. And an audience that, for some reason, thinks a deer playing hunting games is the funniest thing they've ever seen.
They're not wrong.
So that's what this is. A twelve-point whitetail buck, sitting in a hunter's cabin, playing video games, and giving his honest opinion on every game that involves animals, farms, hunting, or anything else that hits a little too close to home. The prey plays back.
I took some photos around the place. Made myself at home. The hunter's gonna be real surprised when he gets back.
What kind of question is that? Look at these antlers. Look at this rack. I'm a twelve-point whitetail buck. I'm as real as it gets. Next question.
Don't know. Don't care. His loss. I changed the locks and I'm getting Amazon packages delivered here now. If he shows up, we'll have a conversation. Probably through the door.
Know your enemy. Also, somebody's gotta review these things from the prey's perspective. You ever notice nobody asks the deer what they think? Well, now they don't have a choice.
Yeah, I've got two daughters. Where are they at? I don't know. Running around somewhere. That's what they do. I've also got grandkids — little bucks and little does all over the place. These antlers are chick magnet material. They also attract a bunch of dickheads, but that's a different story.
Unfortunately, yes. He shows up, eats everything in the fridge, plays two games, roasts me the entire time, and then falls asleep on the couch. Every weekend. I wouldn't have it any other way.
I don't want to talk about it. It's a reflex. It happens. Moving on.
Absolutely. If it's got animals in it, I've got opinions. If it doesn't have animals in it, I've still got opinions. Send it to the business email and we'll talk.
Email: bigolebackyardbuck@gmail.com. Keep it professional. I'm a deer, not an amateur.