Haircuts with Herb by Ed Belote Sr.

Herb Benjamin has been cutting hair in the town of North East, Maryland for more than forty-five years. His barbershop (just off the side of his tackle shop) has become a landmark, and all who visit appreciate Herb’s affable, witty personality. Getting a cut at Herb’s is like stepping back in time; almost like being in Mayberry — the friendship and laughter beckon you to come back for more. Push open that squeaky screen door — come on in and listen...

January/February 2011:
The Lore of the Monster Buck

I owe an apology to the good souls who participated in a “Herb’s” a few weeks ago; I lost the recording that I used to write my story and this story is a makeup edition. Perhaps as you continue to go to Herb’s our paths may cross again. I hope so. — ETB

I noticed, Willie Derickson, from Havre de Grace, was in the chair of honor as I first entered the little shop.

“Ed, you just missed a big deer story, from Willie here,” said Herb. I replied, “Mind telling it again, Willie?” Immediately, Herb started telling Willie’s story.

Willie Derickson

“Willie here spotted a monster 24-pointer heading towards a thicket, and went into the thicket himself, hoping he could stalk the beast. Before Willie knew it that big buck was a few feet behind stalking him!”

When I asked him what happened then, Cap’n Mike jumped in, “He went and cleaned his pants out.” Everybody in the shop cracked up over this and over the din I heard Willie respond, “He was out of there before I was.” I should also note that Willie had been hunting with a crossbow.

Cap’n Mike heroically inquired, “Why didn’t you grab his horns and wrestle him to the ground?”

“Willie’s story brought to mind an incident I experienced in Sussex County, Delaware,” I shared. “It was about 5:00 AM when I stepped out of my truck and prepared to march into the woods to my stand about 200 yards away. The area I prepared to hunt overlooked a grove of small pine trees. Their trunks, which measured four to six inches in diameter, had been rubbed to pieces by what I believed had to be huge bucks.

“I stuffed my pockets with equipment and the last thing I did was douse myself with doe-in-heat lore … the entire one-ounce bottle. ((Of course I was young and dumb then, but now I’ve graduated to old and dumb!) I got about a hundred yards into the woods and heard what I thought was a locomotive behind me. I quickly turned and my flashlight beam fell on a huge 12-14 point buck who stopped just a few feet behind me. I was so startled I thought my heart was going to exit my hunting coat. The monster snorted and high-stepped out of there.

“My heart was pounding so hard, all I could do was just stand there for the next ten minutes and calm myself down. Some kind of primitive instinct compelled me to urinate on the spot where the buck last stood, knowing deer fear the smell of carnivore urine versus that of an herbivore.”

Cap’n Mike responded, “Yeah, you really showed him who was boss, Ed!”

And Mike continued, “One day we were putting a deer stand up in a tree. As we were pounding away with hammers, suddenly here comes these two does. We stood still and they started running around our tree playfully.”

“What you got there,” offered Herb, “is what I call a good stand location.” Herb’s dry subtle humor triggered everyone to laughter.

“Dad, remember that time we were hunting the landfill area—many moons ago when they didn’t mind—and we saw this enormous buck … it looked like the Hartford Insurance deer or elk?” questioned Mike.

“I remember that, Mike,” said Herb. “I remember telling you, ‘That’s no live deer; it’s some kind of a cardboard cut-out from the dump.’ Then, as we lowered our guns, that Hartford buck turned his head and trotted over and down the hill!” Everyone enjoyed another good laugh over this story.

Ivanna and Roman Fedyk

Roman Fedyk of Oldfield Point Road, hobbled in on a cane. Cap’n Mike showed no mercy by asking, “What’d you do? Shoot yourself in the foot again?”

Roman chuckled and replied, “No, I fell off a ladder and just got out of the hospital a few days ago.”

“You didn’t step on that thing that says, ‘This is not a step,’ did you?” asked Herb.

“No, no,” replied Roman. “Actually I was high on a stepladder, next to a dead tree trying to remove a light from it. The dead tree started to come down, I managed to step down with one foot, and I pushed the tree away with my hand before I fell."

Herb asked Roman to talk about what happened as he was winterizing his boat last year. Roman obliged, “I had my fuel tank filled with 90 gallons of gas to keep condensation from forming in the gas tank. In the spring I took her out to buoy 19, and discovered I was very low on fuel. We barely made it back; no doubt, someone siphoned our tanks dry over the winter.”

Being a Ukrainian, I enjoyed talking to Mr. Fedyk and mentioned my mothers’ maiden name had been Petryk. He smiled in acknowledgement, noting that is a common name in the Ukraine. Later his beautiful wife Ivanna stopped by to pick him up. It certainly was a pleasure meeting these wonderful people. —CSM