Legends of Deer Camp: Jim Brawner

Much has been said about dad since he passed away six months ago (Six months?!?).  Most of it good, and deservedly so.  Greeting hundreds of people at his funeral was the kind of experience that makes you question your own life and wonder if you’re making an impact the way he did (I’m not).  If you grew up in Pulaski, Wisconsin, from 1975 to 2005 you likely came across him at some point, and unlike most people, he seems to have a nearly unanimous approval rating.  The number of people who have some kind of story about him is certainly in the thousands.  I’ve written multiple times about his bird hunting greatness.  He truly was larger than life, and his legend has only grown in the past six months.

I think I speak for everyone in the family – especially his brothers and my brother – when I say ENOUGH.  These stories are giving him a big head in the afterlife.  I hear his voice saying, “They call me James M. Brawner, and the M is for magnanimous.”  He also liked, “James T. Brawner, and the T is for trustworthy.”  For the record, his middle name was Andrew.  It’s time to take this guy down a peg or two.  It’s the Brawner way.  We can’t let a family member get too full of him/herself.  We typically operate with one part kindness and heartfelt sentiment to two parts ridicule, sarcasm, and mockery.  I wouldn’t want it any other way.  There’s been way too much of the former recently.  That’s why I present to you this series of stories I’m calling “Jim Brawner: The Worst Deer Hunter Who Ever Lived.”

I realize I’m sounding hyperbolic when telling tales of my dad, but that’s kind of how he was.  He was the best bird hunter I’ve ever been around.  He’s also EASILY the worst deer hunter.  You know what we call tiny deer at our camp?  Jimmys.  We named them after him.  That’s all he shot.  His deer stand?  We call it The Nursery.  Only an idiotic young deer would come within 200 yards of him.  If he wasn’t eating loudly, farting, snoring, or shooting at the water, he was almost certainly calling one or all of us on the walkie talkies.  I could keep going, but you can click the links and read the stories below.

I’m hoping my fellow deer hunters will contribute and we can make this a living document with tales of my dad, the deer hunting anti-legend.  Keep checking this page as I’ll continue adding stories when I get them.  If you want to write something and contribute to this, submit your work to chabrawner@mac.com and I’ll get it in here.  Let’s keep the legend alive.

Jim Brawner: The Worst Deer Hunter Who Ever Lived

The Night We Were Nearly Eaten Alive While Retrieving Dad’s Ammo – Charlie Brawner – November 19, 2019

A 5-Hour Trip to Wendy’s – Tyson Novinska – November 7, 2019

Public Hunting Problems – Charlie Brawner – November 7, 2019

The 42-Year Old Rookie – Charlie Brawner – November 7, 2019

 

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