My brother-in-law and long time friend came in from Ohio to hunt with me this week. I’ll call him Gary, because that’s his name.
We have hunted together for a long, long time. He is the companion you want with you when things go well and also when things do not go so well.
We have not yet been successful this year but, boy, have we had a good time so far.
Our reminiscing, about previous hunts, has kept us both in stitches. We each dredge our memories to come up with another ”Do you remember when,” story.
He reminded me about the long-ago hunt when I tied an eight point buck to a tree with my dragging rope after I field dressed it and went to get help to drag it to the truck. He thought I had not needed to secure the deer with so many knots to the biggest tree in the hollow where it fell. He was sure it would not have been able to get away after its entrails had been removed. His laughter is as enthusiastic today as it was then.
I once asked him as he was following a blood trail though the red-brush and brambles if he was still on the blood trail. Two minutes later I asked him if he was still on the blood trail. This back and forth went on for about 10 minutes, before he demanded to know why I kept asking him if he was still on the blood trail. I explained that I had been sitting by the deer whose trail he had been following for the last 15 minutes. Some hunting buddies have no sense of humor to this day.
The chase is beginning and I must relate an event that happened this week.
A doe ran past my stand overlooking a hollow in a flat out hurry. I came to full alert and watched her back track carefully. A deer approached quickly through the woods in the same direction as the estrogen pumped doe. I soon determined it was a large buck following her scent.
A glimpse at the buck’s antlers as it entered the hollow was enough to cause me to raise the rifle to try the shot. The buck lost the does scent in the deep hollow and turned around and pranced back the way it came with its tail pointed skyward and flipping back and forth. The angle from my stand to the buck was so severe that all I could see was the flipping tail prancing back down the trail. When the antlers appeared, I hurried my shot and sent a round into the dirt still blocking the buck’s body. When he whirled at the shot I sent another round into the bank above him. He did not allow a third round to be fired as he bounded away through the woods.
Hope you and your companions are having fun this season.