Many of my younger acquaintances are shocked to learn that I own guns, and ask me why do I need one? I explain that I feel a lot more comfortable talking to a burglar at 2 a.m. when I am armed, and I need to have the means to deal with a skunk or possum in the henhouse, should the occasion arise. And yes, I might even go hunting, but the deer I shoot is named “rump roast,” not Bambi.

I also wish these same tenderfeet would stop saying “anyways” and “awesome!” Stop using the word “decimate” when you mean “devastate.” “Decimate” is only destroying one-tenth of the whole. Can’t anyone under 50 speak English anymore?

Since the vocabulary of our hunter-gatherer forefathers is rapidly becoming a dead language, I thought that I should impart a few of the hunting phrases and terminology that I have learned over many decades, just for posterity.

Road hunter — A hunter who was sure he could walk through the mountains from Magone Lake over to Beech Creek, but was wrong. Now he’ll take any road he can find.

Hunting rig — Anybody’s vehicle but yours, since any conveyance used to go hunting is going to be exposed to all sorts of abuse and dangers. I have seen hunting rigs shot, drowned, burned, mashed beneath trees, rolled down mountainsides, gutted on sharp boulders, and stuck in a snowbank until spring. Always claim that your rig is broken down and go in someone else’s!

Great shot! — Synonym for incredibly lucky, like the time I took that really l-o-n-g shot, clear across the valley, at the leading deer that the guy with the binoculars insisted was a nice buck. I am elected to take this impossible shot because the barrel on my WW1-era Mannlicher-Berthier is a foot longer than anyone else’s. I squeeze the trigger and the following deer falls over with my 8-mm slug in his heart. (I insist it was the one I was aiming at.) When it turns out to be a legal little forked-horn, I am elated. “I shoot deer out beyond 500 yards with this gun all the time,” I shrug modestly.

Rifle — Called that because (unless you use a smooth bore) your long gun has “rifling,” spiraling grooves to make the bullet spin, for more accuracy. You can accidentally leave some of your hunting equipage at home and still conduct a successful hunt, as long as you don’t forget your rifle, as then your only option to bring home venison steak is roadkill, in which case you will again be glad it’s not your “hunting rig” that was involved.

Road closed — An example of puckish humor on the part of the U.S. Forest Service (or the county road department, or BLM, or one of the big timber companies) where you find out if all that expensive stuff (four-wheel drive, lifter springs, big soft tires, and an 8-ton winch) actually work or not. This is also when you’re really glad it’s not your “hunting rig” as the driver is having a long, serious conversation with law enforcement.

The whole truth — A traditional old geezer phrase to warn you that everything you are about to hear is an outrageous lie. Try to memorize it so you can pass it on to the next generation.

A stand — An odd name for a place whose main function is to provide you with a nice spot to lie down and take a nap.

Well done! — (Always with an exclamation point.) An example of hunting sarcasm, usually expressed right after you have done something stupid, like shooting out the windshield of Charlie’s “hunting rig.”

Rare — The degree the food is cooked, especially if you forget to fill the propane tank in your camper. (Sometimes called “raw.”) Also, the possibility that you are going to find any available propane within 100 miles of here.

Recoil — What you need to be prepared to do if that large flat rock you are picking up to build a fire ring has a large, nervous rattlesnake under it.

Fanny pack — (Never call it a purse!). A small belted pouch worn around your waist that is never quite large enough to carry whatever it is that you really needed to carry, like all your cartridges that you left lying on the hood of Cousin Buck’s “hunting rig.”

Bullet — People use this word improperly all the time. A round lead ball is a “bullet” if you are shooting black powder. That pointy, mostly-brass thingy that is inserted into a 30-06 should more properly be called a “cartridge,” at least until it is fired and the bullet portion is expelled down the barrel. (If Cousin Buck’s bullet hums by 6 inches from your left ear as you cut down through some heavy cover, it is more properly called a “near miss.”)

Might rain — Another good example of sarcasm from the one guy who brought rain gear, as he watches the water run off the end of your nose.

Hunting boots — Whatever you happen to be wearing while hunting; in my youth always “tennyrunners,” sometimes called sneakers. Can be the expensive leather lace-up boots from L.L. Bean that you charred by the fire while trying to dry them out, or rubberized Canadian Sorrels, “guaranteed to keep your feet warm to 60 below,” which is especially gratifying when the temperature is approaching 90 degrees F. above zero, in the shade where you lie barefoot.

Bag limit — There is actually no limit as to how many deer bags you bring along, only on how many of them actually contain deceased deer. This can be tricky, because if you shoot an “extra” deer to fill Slacker-the-teenager’s tag with, Cousin Buck may have done the same thing, and then you’re sure to run into Warden Varmitt on the way out.

Lunch — This is where you can separate the newbies from the old, experienced hunters. The ones that are out here for the scenery and fresh air go back to camp for lunch; the old geezers that leave before dawn with a pocket full of jerky and a Baby Ruth candy bar don’t come back until after dark.

Deer sign — A small notice tacked to a fencepost or tree reading “No Hunting!” Over the years the deer have figured out what these signs mean, which is why those huge deer tracks you’ve been following all morning will invariably lead you right to a deer sign.