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Drifting a bit: My father was popular at contractors' hunt leases. Not only a good hunter; he would take the poker players and whiskey drinkers along with him in his car, let them sleep, and shoot a deer for them. They'd tag it and then have something to take home to show Mamaw that they hadn't gone otro la'o del rio, over to Nuevo Laredo's Boy's Town.
I've no idea about today's world, but there was a time in south Texas when city hunters would mostly hang around camp or sleep off a hangover in a deer blind. One of the ranch hands might bring in a nice buck and offer it for $5 per point. A little hole between the eyes; he'd sat by a trail to water, through the night, and popped Bambi with his old .22 rifle.
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