About four o'clock I saw a doe coming down the path. Then another....and another. Six does and the last one a buck. I can see it's a four with small brow tines. Now here's the thing. If I was a trophy hunter, like Savage, I would let this deer walk. But I have an empty freezer and the clock is ticking. When the buck clears the tree I click the safety off, hold on the front shoulder and squeeze. The last thing I want is a blood trail. The shot echoes down the valley, across Ray Gilkey's fields, all the way to the new two lane bridge crossing the Neversink river at Denniston's Ford. He falls in his tracks. Phew.
I gut that deer and attempt to drag him up hill back to my car, that I've parked at ExRDJohn's
but there's no snow and I'm fucking getting too old for this shit. So I go down the mountain to Ray's fields and get him out that way. Actually Ray's is now RNButch's mom's place and I knock on her door and she says that RNButch told her about me. And yes it was fine to pick up my deer. She was nice. But no one's around to help. No Slick. No GNJohn. No Carlito. I finally get ahold of GNJohn and he helps me load it up in the truck and hang it from my pine tree.
I can't tell you how pleased i am to have shot this buck. Trophy or not, it is tough shooting a whitetail buck. Tomorrow I'm going down to the airport to put on drives with Savage and BobbyR and maybe Mupp if he gets back from babysitting his grandson. Maybe I'll get a doe. Freeze your ass off trudging through swamps and fields, trying to kill a deer or snuggle on the couch with your little darlin' ? I guess we all have our choices. The cats can fend for themselves. I'm going hunting.
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