As I stepped out on the back deck to refill the bird feeders on a cool morning, as if on cue, a deer started snorting loudly and furiously from its shadows in the woods.

It was a ruckus that would have thoroughly entertained my late husband, Roger, who passed away more than a week ago after a long battle with heart disease.

Roger was the ultimate outdoor and shooting enthusiast who not only watched and interpreted wildlife signs around our rural home, but also watched any and all hunting shows, including “Swamp People” and “Mountain Men.” Subscriptions to outdoor and gun magazines brought the publications into our household on a regular basis to keep him up to date on the latest hunting techniques and firearms.

His years of experience in the woods, on the job as a police chief and officer as well as a firearms instructor, made him something of an authority on any topic involving hunting or guns. His outdoor columns in The Era were something he worked on and enjoyed during his times at home.

Over the last couple of years, however, the disease that he had fought off so valiantly for more than a decade began catching up with him to the point where he didn’t have the energy required to hike into the woods to hunt. Instead, he lived the hunting experience through our son, Eric, who would come out and hunt occasionally, or other relatives and friends who shared their stories of success or being outsmarted.

Our daughter, Suzi, would also keep him busy cleaning and preparing dip for the leeks she gathered in the woods when he was no longer able to accompany her and others.

That aside, Roger would probably enjoy knowing just how much the community has shown their love in his memory. This included neighbors Shane and Bridgette Oschman, who would visit and help with anything we needed, and Clarence Stewart, who chatted with him in backyard chairs and was more like a brother.

Others showed their love for him by visiting his service, sharing food or sending cards.

Through the years, there were many other friends and relatives he would connect with by phone. Often I would hear their laughter on the other end of the phone as Roger entertained them with one of his stories or interesting phrases that became his trademark. He claimed he picked up many of his one-liners from his late father, Jim.

On more than one occasion, he had the household laughing instead of shrieking at something frightening when he would blurt out, “Wooo — that gave me the golly-wobbles!”

He also enjoyed using the quip, “I think the hoos a cackle came loose from the sok shun goggle,” if something that was broken was beyond our skillset to repair.

The point here is that Roger enjoyed his reputation as a wise-cracker in tickling people with interesting tales. These included “war stories” from his years with Bradford City Police or the McKean County Sheriff’s Department. Once you got him started, his stories were endless and had family and friends laughing at the kitchen table on more than one occasion. Thankfully, he wrote down some of the more interesting calls he received at the police station during his 40-year career. Here are a few:

• “I want to report that my boa constrictor is stolen, I lent him to my neighbor and he won’t give it back — says he lost it.”

• “Send a cop right away; there’s something on my wall, it’s either a bat or a spider, but it’s big!”

• “So I need a police escort to the airport … no, not Bradford — the Bangor, Maine airport.”

He wrote down more serious accounts, too, that sometimes involved the abuse of children, which he didn’t tolerate.

He also staunchly defended the disabled. On one occasion years ago, he came to the aid of a young guy with mental disabilities when they worked together at a food service in the area. When a bully in the kitchen began picking on the young guy, Roger stepped between them and defended his friend.

Along those lines, he loved my brother, Tommy, who has Down syndrome — Roger called him “Buddy.” When Tommy, who is now in a wheelchair, came to our house for cookouts last summer, Roger made our downstairs bathroom more accessible for his brother-in-law by installing a handle near the sink and toilet.

Roger’s other big love was for his hometown of Bradford, as well as the surrounding communities. Other than his hunting trips to Canada or Wyoming, he figured he had everything that was enjoyable in life right here in our beautiful, rural area.

His visits to the annual Festa Italiana in Bradford, where he could meet up with old friends, or the Cuba (N.Y.) Garlic Festival, where he bought new bulbs and picked the brains of growers, were always a treat for him. Consequently, he wouldn’t accept criticism of our area from anyone who spoke negatively of our communities, which he called home his entire life.

Roger was definitely a hometown guy who loved his role over the years in protecting and helping others, sharing his stories and knowledge — and generally enjoying his life.

We miss him already.

(Kate Day Sager writes for The Bradford Era and Olean Times Herald. Her email is kates_th@yahoo.com.)