A pic and a tale
Bright and early the second day of deer season found me overlooking a small creek bed that fed through oak and pine timber in the Mark Twain National Forest, middle of nowhere Missouri. The creek fed through acres of woodland and emptied into a nearby private owned field that was known to entice monster bucks.
I was snuggled up next to a nice large oak tree on my hunting seat looking up and down the creek from the side of a hill. Across the creek was an area that had been timbered a couple of years ago by the forest service via a lease to a lumber company. It was a great place for deer to bed down during the night. I just knew there were deer there that would be waking up and coming toward me. I had seen the scrapes and rubs. I was ready.
The deer was smarter than me. He stepped out of the scrub making no sound so I didn't see him until he was parallel to me. Amazing how a 2 pound squirrel makes 200% more noise than a 200 pound deer. As I caught the glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye I chanced a glance to confirm it was a deer. Yep, no squirrel, bird or falling leaf this time.
'twas a nice sized 8-pointer tiptoeing through the woods. I slowly raised my trusty 30.06 sighting in just behind his shoulder. Took a deep breath, held it, squeezed the trigger and he stepped behind a tree. Missed. Again, he stepped out and breath, squeeze, step, miss. God was in the deer's favor that day and he would live to see another day.
I slowly made my way down to where he had crossed the creek and ambled up the other side of the hill. I wanted to scout a new sitting spot. As I neared where he had crossed I glanced back toward the creek and saw the tip of an antler sticking out of the leaves. Never one to pass up the opportunity to acquire another shed, I headed down the hill to add it to my collection.
Imagine my surprise when what I lifted from the leaves was an intact skull of a 7-pointer. It had just a small amount of squirrel nibbles on it so it was worthy of saving. When I returned to camp and was asked if I had gotten anything I explained that I had scared it out of its skin. This was all that was left:
I decided it was worthy of hanging with just a little bit of an upgrade. It will remain a conversation piece and an ode to another memory made with friends and family, good times, and continuing a tradition even in the year of the 'rona.
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Sometimes, killing a deer can "diminish" the hunt.
What a wonderful day!
What a wonderful story!
What a wonderful trophy!
I arrowed a tall-antlered 6-pointer one morning and was blood-trailing him across a wooded ridge.
Above me, well within range, I spotted a very nice 8-point rack just above the brush.
"Not him." I said, under my breath and kept walking. My mind was locked onto the trail.
The 8-pointer stood, paused a moment, staring at me, then bolted up the mountain.
"I can't believe I just did that!" I kept saying, over and over.
That 8-pointer will be remembered long after the memory, of the deer I shot, fades from my feeble mind.
I love huntin' stories much more than the killing stories. A toast to you, susie.
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My Dad and I were hunting for a monster buck we had seen- a pack of cigarettes would fit inside a hoofprint, Last day of season. Cold misty rain. We had a cut over cornfield staked out.
About 10 AM Dad walked over to where I was shivering, said "I've had about enuff fun, and I can't feel my nose. Let's go back to the house and get some coffee." About a mile drive.
My Stepmom met us at the kitchen door. "Oh good- you're back. You can take care of that deer for me." Seems while we were working on Hypothermia 101, SHE had been standing at the kitchen door sipping a cup of coffee of her own, and saw a buck walk out of the woods and into the remains of the garden. Being a country girl, she picked up a Marlin 30-30 and dropped him from the back steps. He was laying in the garden, deader than 4 o'clock.
Yep- 10 points of monster buck we had been looking for,
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Great story Susie, thanks for sharing.
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Great story.....Nice find !!!
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Very cool.
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Susie, good story......
My first deer hunt was with a friend of mine who is very experienced. My grandparents owned an ancestral farm of about 420 acres SW of Springfield, MO. I had never hunted deer, but I wanted to, and my grandparents agreed to the trip. My friend and I set up next to some trees......looking down at a creek crossing with a clear view along a fence line. I was borrowing my friend's Mohawk 600 in .243. That day I took my first deer, which was just a 3 point buck............I know........I know........but I was proud.
A couple of years later...........this same friend and I went back to my grandparents farm to hunt again. By this time, I had purchased a Mohawk 600 in .308. We went to the same wooded area near the creek and fence line as we had a couple of years before and set up. We didn't see anything. Nothing. We were totally skunked. It was getting late, almost the end of legal shooting light, so we decided to go back to the house. We drove up into the driveway and saw a couple of nice does running across the field on the hill behind my grandparent's house, maybe 200 yards away. My buddy told me to get ready because something was chasing them. He went to the house, to ask my grandparents if I could take a shot from their backyard. By this time I had moved up to the air conditioning condenser in the back yard and taken a prone position. He crept back and told me that my grandparents were fine with me shooting something if I saw it. Shortly after those does ran across...........a big 8 point buck came after them and paused in the field on the side of the hill...........I can only imagine that he was contemplating his next move............It was his last. I aimed just behind the shoulder at the lungs and heart, and took my shot. He dropped right there......DRT. When we got to him............it turns out that I did not get a lung or heart shot. I shot him right in the neck through his spinal cord. I had sighted my rifle at 100 yards and in my excitement I shot high but got lucky.
It was at the end of legal shooting time and we took him to the station to log the kill, file the tag..............that deer filed dressed at 215 lbs. He was a monster with a perfect 8 point rack. Not a record breaker, but I had him mounted by a lady in San Antonio, TX..............His 3/4 mount is on the wall of my efficiency apartment and may be the last and best deer that I ever take.
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Good stories from all. Keep them coming. That is always the best part of the day during season. Sitting around the fire sharing old and new stories. Making memories for the next generation.
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I like the dark paint on the skull.
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