Friday, December 14, 2007


Remember what I said about hunting failure, persistence and all that? Yesterday and today are perfect examples of both. After finding how far off my muzzleloader was shooting and having a foot of snow on the road and no time (nor bullets) to site it in, I decided to take the slug gun with the only slug I could find in the closet. It was illegal to hunt like this, but in keeping with the spirit, if not the letter of the law, I decided to give it a go. One shot was one shot.
So I got up before dawn, made coffee, put another log in the stove and gathered up all my clothes that had been drying along the stove pipe during the night. I screwed the rifled choke in the 12 ga. and grabbed the slug. Then something came over me. For some reason I couldn't bring myself to do it. It wasn't the risk of getting caught. Hell, I could've taken the .243 with a pocket full of shells and no one would've said boo. It was thought that if I got a deer (and god forbid a big buck) I would'nt have bragging rights. The kill would be tainted. So, at the last minute, I cleaned and loaded the muzzleloader and hit the woods.
A foot of fresh snow made walking silent, but difficult. Yesterday i'd seen tracks coming and going by where I'd set my traps. I decided this was the spot to sit and wait. There were fresh tracks of two deer going in and nothing coming out. A good sign. I figured they were bedding down in a big brush pile up on Carlito's hill. There was no telling whether they'd move. Any time the wind stirred the trees big gobs of snow fell...on my head.... down my neck.....then....what's that? Two deer (probably the same two) were coming right for me. The first was a big doe. the second was smaller, but not a fawn. I raised the gun, held high and to the left and waited. When she stepped broadside I squeezed the trigger. She went down in a heap and never moved. The second deer, a spike, almost ran me over.
The sense of relief and accomplishment is indescribable. I field dressed her, leaving the gut pile for the coyotes and crows and drug the doe all the way home, leaving a trail of blood in the snowy tobogan skid left by her body. I'm beat, sore, sweating and one happy hunter. Meat on the table. In case you're wondering.... that's why I do it.


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home