Conference vmsnet::hunting$note:hunting

	

	I had been hunting for the number one buck for three days.
I had  scouted and tracked him pre-season and thought I had his
routine fairly well figured out. In the three days, I had seen 
him just once at a long distance and on the run. The rut was
winding down in my area so I think his pattern had changed. 

	Slept restlessly that third hunting night. Decisions-decisions.

	I decided to try the last spot I could figure he may be the
next morning and if that didn't pan out then a complete change 
would be in order. A fresh try for buck number two would the 
thing to do. Although #2 was smaller to the eye I felt he would
my best choice if I fail on #1.

	After lunch I enter the number two buck's area.
	
	Walked about 400-500 yards and came to the clearing that
was at the edge of an old logging area. The loggers had cut a twin
oak and the stump just the right height to sit on. No brush or any 
other cover to break up my outline but decided to sit for a while 
anyway. When on stand I become like a rock and most deer won't see 
me unless I move.
 
	I could see about 200 yards into open hard woods to my left 
front, had a mountain laurel and pines bedding type area to my left 
rear along with a small brook about 20 yards away with another 20+
yards to the heavier travel cover. Directly to my rear was "HEAVY" 
mountain laurel and brush. Even a deer wouldn't try to enter that 
stuff unless pushed awful hard. To my right is the swamp and pine 
grove leading to the main road. To my front open pines/hardwoods 
leading to the lower road about 1/4 mile away. 

	I figured that if #2 was still in the area and following 
his general routine he would come into the hardwoods to feed from 
the bedding area using his trail located along the edge of the laurel
to my left front and I would  have a good chance for a shot.

	I had taken the stand at about 1:00 and about 3:00 started 
to give some thought to moving. The deer sign in the area wasn't
as good as it had been and I had thoughts he may have moved. But 
I decided to stick it out till quitting time. Rocks don't like to 
move anyway.

	About 3:20 I heard some noise slightly to my left and 
behind me. I had tree rats around me and I thought it was just
another squirrel looking for nuts. But something inside me said it
was something other than a squirrel. I turned around trying to
be quiet and to conceal my movement as much as possible. I spotted a 
deer coming directly at me through the under brush from the direction 
of the bedding area but not on any known deer trail. I could make out 
the antlers through the brush and knew he was a legal buck , "#2" 
so I raised my gun to be ready.

	He stepped out into the open hardwoods about 40 Yards away and 
was now moving to my left at a casual walk. The sights went behind his 
left shoulder, the safety went to fire and I squeezed the shot off. OH NO! 
The deer took off running! Like a runaway train, tail up and no signs
of a hit. My first thought was I might have missed. Slug might have hit 
a piece of brush or some other junk, couldn't believe it but couldn't 
take the chance so follow ups were in order.

	He ran across from right to left and quartering slightly towards me.
I shot a load of buck shot at his legs, I was really trying to get rid of 
the buckshot I had as my second load and get the next slug into the chamber. 
God I don't know why I use that junk! The deer had quartered towards me 
and was now about 20 yards in front of and still going strong. He spotted 
me, turned and started to quarter away but still to the left to put more 
distance between us. I put the sights just behind the head on the neck. 
As the deer bounded I waited till he was in mid bound so he would be moving 
smoothly through the air. I squeezed the shot off. When the deer hit the 
ground it was a one point nose dive.

	He fell about 30-35 yards from me. I walked over and found
that the second slug was a dead center neck shot. I then found that
it wasn't needed, as the first slug had found it's mark. It had
entered just behind the left shoulder took out both lungs and the
main arteries to the hart.

	Darn, should have let him keep running. He was running
towards the road!! Would have made the drag shorter. Oh well 400
yards isn't a bad drag.

	By 3:50 the deer was dressed, trussed, dragged and at the 
house. My 12 year old son had chores do finish then it was off to 
the checking station.

	#2 was 148 lbs dressed weight, six points. Kind of a funny six,
looks like a typical eight pointer but the brow tines were missing.

	Well my season ended with a bang and a lot of good eating
ahead. I butcher my own deer, de-bone them. I got 65 pounds of pure
good eating plus several pounds of ribs for the summer BBQ.

	Steve :^) :^) :^)

	p.s.

	Well #1, your still on my list for next year. I saw you the
other day back in your old spot!!! Remember that hiker with the note
book in hand...

        This one should be in Outdoor Lifes', "This happened to me",
    column. It wasn't my first deer but one of my most memorable. I
    live in N.H. and this was back when you could take a doe anytime
    during the entire season. Well my then hunting partner, Ron Davis
    and I had pursued these seemingly invisible creatures anytime we
    could get away. Finally it comes to the last day of the season,
    which I might add was a work day, but I figure what the heck, I'll
    catch an hour or so before work. It's worth a shot, right? Sure.
    So off to Derry I go. I used to hunt pheasant off of English Range
    Rd. and had frequently cut deer tracks while hunting this particu-
    lar area. I did think about calling Ron but decided he'd probably
    had enough discouragement for one season. Anyway, I get to Derry,
    park the car and head about 3-400 yds. to an area that I had men-
    tally mapped as a trail the deer seemed to be using during their
    daily routines. To tell the truth, with all the pheasant hunters
    that had stomped through, I didn't think the deer would be around
    for miles. I had been sitting for maybe 15 mins. Next thing I know
    a spike or fork-horn goes crashing by. To this day I am not sure
    what it was because he seemed to traveling at the speed of light.
    I only know that it was, in fact, a buck. Well, I say, that's it.
    My one chance and it's gone. I didn't even have a chance to raise
    my shotgun. Frustration at it's peak, I decide to call it quits. 
    But what should appear, seemingly out of nowhere? A beautiful doe
    and a skipper. Here I am, half standing, half sitting, with this
    doe staring me down. It was like a mexican standoff. She stomped
    and snorted, snorted and stomped. The skipper didn't seem to know
    what was going on. The doe then bolted and ran off to my left. The
    skipper just kind of ran in little circles. Here I am, now on the
    verge of mental collapse, with a tiny little deer that I would ra-
    ther not shoot, teasing me. Just as I'm about to pinch my self to
    make sure this is real, the doe reappeared. Yep, beautiful broad-
    side shot. I don't know if she was coming back for the skipper or
    what she was thinking. I just let her have it. It was maybe a 35
    yd. shot and the slug laid her to rest on the spot. So I gut her
    reach for my rope, and you guessed it. I didn't bring any. I mean
    after all I probably wouldn't get one anyway or so I thought. To
    make a long story short I won't go in to detail how I got her to
    the car and all. Let's just say I knocked on a farmers door and
    he seemed to think it was quite humorous. So finally I head home,
    as I had to wait for a checking station to open, to call work. I
    called my boss and told him what was going on and made sure he did
    not tell Ron. You see that's the best part of the whole thing. This
    past season, Ron and I had hunted every spare minute together. Not
    seeing a thing. So what do I do, go out the last day of the season
    and bag a big doe. Which I may add weighed in at approx. 160 lbs.
    And this last day of the season just happened to fall on Rons' birth-
    day! The present I gave him, I thought, was quite nice. After all,
    isn't there a million uses for deer hooves?
    
             Bob

    I'll have to get Tom Davis from TWO to enter a blurb in here.  You
    may recall the story in the deer hunting note about Tom taking a
    nice buck at Moosehead Lake, Maine.  Well, as it turns out, Tom
    returned to Massachusetts to take not 1, but 2 more deer in his
    home town state.  He took a nice 4 point buck in the Berkshires
    during shotgun season, and took a nice doe during muzzleload season.
    
    Sheesh.  Some guys have all the luck!
    
    Mark.

	First I'd like to say I wish more stories were being
published here. And now for my TURKEY hunt.

*************************************************************

	For those who were at the game supper, I was the one 
who asked Bear to bring the turkey hunting films.

*************************************************************

	For the last month I have been trying to locate some 
birds to hunt. But as we have heard, in this note file (Wild-turkeys)
they have not been very cooperative. I had been having trouble
getting the Toms to respond to my locator calls. To cold and
rainy I guess.

	Unable to locate birds using my owl, crow, and hawk calls,
I picked out a few promising locations using only turkey sign as a 
guide. I had seen a big tom bird in a field next to one of the 
locations so I made it my primary spot to start on opening day.

	Opening morning came, the alarm sounded at 4:00 A.M.
by 5:00 I was in the woods making my way to the top of the ridge.
As the light began to filter in I tried to raise a response from
old Tom with my owl hooter, nothing. A few minutes pass, I try again,
still nothing.

	I remained in the area till full light and knew the birds
would have left the roost and slowly walked my way around the 
mountain trying to raise a response every 10 minutes. Nothing, 
the birds, like in the pre-season scouting, wouldn't respond.

	Since I had walked all the way around the hill I felt I had
disturbed the area to much to continue to have a successful hunt so
I left the area and went to a second location. This was an
area that used to be farms but has since overgrown with hardwoods.
I had never seen a bird here but the sign looked good during my scouting.
I had decided that I would use hen yelps as a locator call seeing that
the owl hooter wasn't working.

	I yelped out a 10 note series with two putts leading into
the series. There! in the far distance!! the faint sound of a gobble!
I moved deeper into the area, on to the next overgrown field, again the 
10 note yelp series. GOBBLE-GOBBLE-GOBBLE !!! What a sound, HE was 
About 150-200 yards down the hill which was a very gentle slope.

	I moved to the good sized tree to sit against facing 
the direction I expected the bird to come from. I sit quiet. . . . .
 . . . . . seconds turn to hours, heart pounding. After 20-30 seconds
I give another 10 note series,  GOBBLE-GOBBLE-GOBBLE !!! now at about
100-150 yards. Again I sit quiet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I look but
can't locate the bird. 

This is open hard woods and I thought I would be able to spot the bird 
from at least 100 yards. A minute passes, I give a 5 yelp series but 
with much less volume, more like a call of contentment. 
GOBBLE-GOBBLE-GOBBLE !!! Did you ever have to pick up you heart and
swallow it again?? The bird had swung to my left to get around the old rock
wall and was now 40 yards to my left. This ain't the flat lander type
birds we saw in the films at the game super. This was a crafty woods bird.

	He went into full display, fanned tail, wings dropped and scrapping 
the ground, head pulled down against his puffed out breast. He danced in an
attempt to impress the hen he knew was there. He starts to move continuing
my left. I had to turn him or he would be behind me and a shot almost
impossible to make. With my mouth diaphragm call a give a soft puuurrrrrrr 
and a couple very soft putts.

	He dresses down and heads in my direction, coming straight in
from my left. He's looking and on full alert, he starts to display but
dresses down again. He reminds me of how one might still hunt deer, 
move-stop-look-listen, when safe move again. Now at 35 yards he is
almost in range for my 28 inch modified 12 gage but not quite. he moves
to 30 yards,  GOBBLE-GOBBLE-GOBBLE !!! again I must swallow my heart.

	My gun is on my shoulder and resting on my knee where I had 
originally set it up, the bird had never moved behind a tree large
enough to hide my gun movement so I remained still, and now there it 
was pointing to my front and the bird is to my left. I know if I move 
I'll be spotted and the bird will be gone!! He continues to move, 
now at 20 yards, I wait . . . . . . . . . . GOBBLE-GOBBLE-GOBBLE !!! 
and he Goes into Full display!!! Now's the time!! I swing the gun, 
never taking my eye off the target, As I start the swing the bird 
dresses down and raises his head looking in my direction. The barrel 
swings under my eye and the front bead is aligned. I pull the trigger, 
I feel no recoil and am aware of only the sound, it vibrates through
the woods. As quickly as it started it was over.

	The bird dropped, I jumped up and ran over to ensure it was
over and that the bird did not suffer. After a time I am recomposed 
and the task of field dressing is completed. I walk from the woods, 
whistling a happy note, not just because I'm happy but for safety sake. 
That bird might look good walking through the woods.

	This is my first, Not just my first turkey but first actual
hunt. First hunt, first day, first bird called in, first shot.
Beginners Luck ? !!!  ;>)

	I get to the check station. And the stats are taken and recorded
by the game official. 

	Weight 	21 lbs 12 oz.	(field dressed)
	Spurs 	shortest 1 in. longest 1 1/4 inch starting to hook.
	Beard 	fairly full and 9 1/2 inches.
	Tail	Even number and full

	He's going to look real good in my Den, I'm having him mounted
in the full strutting display pose.

	If we have a game supper again this year he'll be there!!


	Just a note: Although this was my first, I put a lot of time
doing my home work, and I owe a lot to my friend Walt Krawiec, he's the
H. S. Strut field advisor located at Franchell's Sports in West 
Springfield Ma. He taught me how to read the birds and their responses 
and how to match my call to what they want. He taught me how to set up 
on a bird once he is located and how to react once he is in sight. 
With out that help this Gobbler would still be Strutting.

    
             Steve,
     
     Congratulations on getting your bird. It almost makes me want to
    send in for my permit next year and give turkey hunting a try.
    
     Just want to add I was down B+G's Sporting Goods the 1st day
    and they had checked in 15 birds by 10:30 am.
    
     Thought you might like to know.
    
                                             Mike

    	I too would like to congradulate steve on a job well
    done. Beginners luck, I think not. Steve is a seasoned
    hunter and even though this may be the first time Steve
    has hunted turkey he has done a lot of preparitory work
    before this actuall hunt took place.
    	I can assure you that Steve is no stranger in the woods
    and what he did was apply his many skills on a new quarry
    after many hours of hard work.
    
    				Congradulations, Steve
    
    				Bear,
    
    First hunt though, Hmm, maybe luck did play part but the result
    would have eventually been the same. We'll see how long
    it takes to get the next one.

    
    
    
    Usual disclaimer: Reprinted without permission from A Hunters Fireside
    Book by Gene Hill.
    
                      
     
                             OLD TOM
    
      The vet told him that the old setter might live another day or so and
    that the humane thing to do would be to put him down. The old man
    brushed his moustache with the back of his hand so that his fingers
    would cover up his eyes and said he didn't believe he was ready to do
    without OLD TOM right now. Maybe in a day or so, but not right now.
      So the two of them  shuffled out to the car and drove off
    together. Now the old man had a problem. It was the middle March and
    bird season was long since closed. But more than he'd ever wanted
    anything in his life he wanted the dog to hear one more shot and feel
    the whirr of one more flush.
      March or no, the old man took a vigil near the swamp that night and
    marked down two or three birds as they came in to roost. And promptly
    at six th e naxt morning the two gentlemen marched down together
    through the morning mist, as they had done countlesstimes before ...and
    as one of them hoped they would do countless times again in some other
    fields.
      The play was faultless. Old Tom drew himself up as proud as a puppy.
    The old man's shot was as true as a youngster's and the deed was done.
      At the vet's a half-hour later,his last bird craddled between his
    front feet, his nostrils filled with the scent of what he had lived
    for, Old Tom went to sleep.
      The old man lets him rest up on a hillside facing the western sun...
    old folks appreciate the late afternoon warmth. And on the slate that
    marks the spot he scratched "Old Tom. A faithful friend for 12 fine
    years." On fair days, when he thinks no one is watching, the old man
    goes up to the slate on the hillside and sits in the sun with a glass
    of whiskey and talks about times past with Tom.
    

    If that doesn't give you a lump in your throat, the your one 
    hard hearted SOB!
    
    Jeff 

    re .6:  Nice story.
    
    Mark.

                                     
    
    I think I'll go home tonight and take Spike for a real long romp
    in the bush. (sniff, sniff)
    
    Jamie 

    You guys really know how to hurt a guy!   
    
    I have a nice polished granite stone for my old friend and I visit him
    often. I have pictures of my buddy, and I think of him everyday. But 
    after reading stories like this,...  well, lets just say it hits a
    tender spot!
    
    Thanks for bringing back a lot of good memories.

When I was a lad and old shep was a pup.


Thanks for the story.
Bill

	1:30 I awake and look at the clock,......... 2:15
I awake and look at the clock...3:00....4:15 I wait till
4:29 get up and push the button to the alarm before it goes
off at 4:30. If I awake the Wife the morning could be over
before it begins...... 

	I must be nervous as I had a very restless sleep.
I promised to take my son, Bryan, scouting Turkeys IF the
weather was fair and I felt we had a chance to see birds.
He has gone before but to this date not a bird has he seen.
He is beginning to think he is a jinx, I see birds all the
time when I go with others but each time we take him......
NOTHING.... Can't afford to discourage him.... He just turned
13 and is showing some interest. To many disappointments and
he may loose interest.

	A trip to the kitchen window...... the thermometer
reads 30 Degrees F. I open the sliding doors to the back deck
and a faint wind hits me in the face. Hmmmmmmmmm I ponder IF
it will be worth while getting Bryan up and into the woods????
Cold and slightly windy........ I decide a morning in the woods
with my son is better than a morning at work.

	4:37.... I awake Bryan, come on lets do it. I can't promise
you anything but lets give it a try.  He agrees.

	We eat, dress and are in the truck riding to the place I
have seen birds in the past , by the way it is where I got my
bird last year.

	5:05... we enter the woods, along a wood road that has heavy
pines and mountain laurel on one side and a hard wood ridge on the
other. We walk in about a quarter mile. 5:15.. Bryan give the owl
hooter a try HOOO..HOOO..HO.HOOO......HOOOO...HO..HO..HOOOOOOOOO.
THERE off in the distance Gobble..gobble. Sounds to be several
hundred yards off. We move in along the wood road 100 yards. Another
try with the hooter HOOO..HOOO..HO.HOOO......HOOOO...HO..HO..HOOOOOOOOO.
No response. We wait..............................................
I try a soft tree yelp of a hen..  yelp .. still nothing. We move to
a spot off the road to sit and wait. An EXPLOSION from above.....
DAMN the bird was right there in the tree we're standing next to.
We watched as the bird sailed off over the trees and out of sight.

	"Well" Bryan says "at least I saw one". 

	I feel disappointed that we didn't have a chance to work the bird.

	We walked the road to the end calling but with no luck. Back to the
truck we walk talking about the bird earlier and discuss what we may
have done wrong.

	We drove to another spot and walked the road for about a mile
with no results. It's getting late around 7:30 and I have but one
more area to try. I know a spot there are BIRDS lots of em but I am
saving that for opening morning of hunting so we can't try there but
maybe this other place. Bryan says he understands. I don't want to 
over work them. We drive to the last spot.

	We stop and walk the wooded lane up the valley to the saddle
between the hills. I call as we go but again no luck. I begin to feel
bad that I can't produce a bird for Bryan. I am hoping he understands.

	Well Bryan tell me... where do you think we can see a bird??
He thinks for a minute and then.. "Lets try across from the house up
on the hill, We've seen sign there and remember you said you saw some 
birds there during the last deer season". "OK". I respond "Lets do it".

	I scouted there last week and saw nothing but I didn't tell
him. I figured it was as good as any other place.

	We entered the woods and walked a small over grown, but well
defined logging road. To the top of the first plateau... I give a yelp
series... nothing... We walk deeper into the woods yelping as we
go.... nothing. After half a mile I turn to Bryan.. Well looks like
we struck out again, but don't loose faith buddy,, we'll see a bird
together yet this year.

	"Hey Pa. give a couple of cutting series, maybe they are just
being stubborn!!"

	I break out into a cutting series.... I go silent... Bryan
grabs my arm..."there... did you hear that way over there?? I think
I heard a bird." I cut again... silence....Then.. there, off in the
for distance I to hear the bird. LETS GO!!!!!!

	We head in the direction of the gobble........ 200 yds.....
stop. Cut again.. there much closer now, maybe 400 yards.
we move in 150 yards.. yelp..cutt..yelp... GObble..GObble..
Quick Bryan Give me the decoy and get over there next to that big 
rock.. set up and CAMO yourself.. I'll set up the decoy and sit
next to that tree over here. If the bird comes in you'll get a good
look.....

	I set the decoy, head for the tree and I look to check on Bryan's 
location and that he is set. We're ready!!!

	I cutt.... GOBble..GOBble.... He is now about 100 yards off.
I give a yelp series... nothing.... I cutt... GOBBLe..GOBBLe. now at
75 yards... I wait .... no reason in over working the bird. I yelp
then cutt GOBBLe..GOBBLe he starts to move closer GOBBLE..GOBBLE
now I can see him. 45 Yards and in full display. I purrr...purrrrr
GOBBLE..GOBBLE. I am thinking of how Bryan is feeling and wondering
if he feels the way I did on my first bird called in. 

	The bird is now displaying all around the decoy. No need to
do any calling now. Just sit and watch.

	About 15-20 minutes pass and the bird slowly looses interest
in the decoy and moves off up the hill. He stops at the crest and
goes into half hearted displays and GOBBLES now and then. After a short
while he moves on up the hill and out of sight.

	I look over to Bryan and give a thumbs up which he returns.
I stand and move to get the decoy. Put--Put--Put,, the bird heard
me and gave the alarm as he moved off deeper into the safety of the
upper woods.

	I meet Bryan and one look into his eyes told it all, The 
sparkle that was there was all I needed to make my week let alone day.
"Well buddy you did a fine job, Picked a good spot." I say, He responds
with "when we going again??". What a smile. 

	What a morning... Me, my Boy and a Bird!!!!!

	The fingers of my right hand relaxed and the arrow began its flight
down that imaginary flight path my mind had drawn to the target. I use no pins
or sights, I shoot instinctively. It took but a tenth of a second for the shaft
to span the 23 yard distance and less than that for my heart to sink to an all
time low as I watched the bright fluorescent green nock pass beneath old Mossy's
belly. My heart sank even lower as I watched him bolt out of sight. I knew the
shot was a good one and couldn't figure what went wrong. The release maybe.

	The Archery season was now a week and two days old. I had hunted
every day if only for afternoon stands on working days. On the Saturday before
I had set up my portable tree stand about 10ft up in an oak at the edge where
the pine swamp and open hardwoods merged. I stayed in the stand until eleven
that morning when I had to descend for lunch and a break.

	After lunch I decided to still hunt the upper ridge where the upper
hardwoods met with the dense pine forest. As I moved along I found the scraps
of Ol Mossy Back. A deer I had been hunting for the last two years. He had
made a line of scrapes and rubs just to the side of the foot path that skirted
the pines. It was mid November and the rut was just now hitting full swing.
With this fresh sign I decided to move my stand to this area so I could watch
the scraps and entrance to the feeding area. By two o'clock I was set up and
watching the area.

	The woods were windy that afternoon and the sounds of the rustling
squirrels kept me on the alert. As I sat there my sixth sense told me some
thing was out there other than the squirrels. Then out of the pines a doe
emerged. She was working her way along the lower path about 50 yards out to
my left. She was taking a path that would lead her to the lower hardwoods.
She passed and disappeared behind the heavy cover to my left. I could hear her
and kept an ear tuned to her rustling while I watched her back track for a buck
that might be following. For some reason she decided to change course and came
back around the heavy cover now quartering towards my stand. 40 yards, 30 yards.
Another few steps and she would be in one of the shooting lanes. This was my
first experience with hunting from a tree stand and my thoughts were that now
I'll get to see first hand if movement from above alarms a deer. She was now
walking straight towards my stand, I raised the bow and drew back the arrow.
To my surprise she didn't seem to notice the movement or didn't consider it
a danger. She just kept coming.

	Now at 25 yards I did what a novice instinctive shooter would do.
All though I have hunted deer for 20 some years this was only my second year
with a bow. I was looking at the deer and not a spot on the deer. I released
the arrow and it instantly struck a branch and was deflected off path. It
struck the tree to the right and behind her. I had not planned the shot right
and now paid for the mistake by a miss. She bounded about 20 yards and
wondered off over the crest of the hill.

	The next day I set my stand up in a tree in the back yard and shot
over a hundred arrows at targets of varying distances. I kept running through
the sequence that a good shooter would do. Identify target. Select shooting
lane. Pick SPOT on deer to shoot at. Align the shot and then release.

	Monday afternoon found me back in the woods in the same tree stand 
where I had shot at the doe from. At around 4:10 a four point buck emerged
from the pines and moved down the ridge into the hardwoods. He was at about 
50 yards and never presented a opportunity for a shot. I left the woods that
day with no further deer sightings.

	Tuesday again found me in the tree stand. And again at around 4:00 my
sixth sense was telling me some thing was around. After a few minutes I could
hear the rustle of a deer. I spotted the doe off to my right at about 70 yards.
As I watched her I caught some movement behind her. From the pines he emerged
like a ghost from a mist, quiet and slow. I could see his rack and even at
seventy yards it looked impressive. My heart went into high gear as Ol Mossy
Back emerged and the adrenalin flowed. The Buck approached the doe but she
wanted nothing to do with him. She scampered away and turned towards my stand.
She passed moving from right to left at about 30 yards and re-entered the
pines to my left. The buck followed at a walk. He took the same path as the 
doe and I knew I was going to get a shot. I kept telling myself "Steve Ol boy,
You had better not blow this one, just do what you practiced." 

	As the buck moved closer I could not help but admire the head gear
but forced myself to watch the shoulder. As he passed behind a hemlock that was
20 yards to my front I raised and drew back the 2117 XX75 arrow that was fitted
with a Razor Back 5 broadhead. All I could see was the outline of the buck
through the hemlock so I aligned the arrow to the shadow of the rear of the
deer's shoulder. He moved into the open woods. Five more yards and he'll be 
in the shooting lane. He took several fast steps and stopped. He had moved
into the lane but had moved most of the way through and a large tree was 
covering all of his shoulder and the front third of the good kill area. 
The only shot I had was the rear of the lung and liver area. At 23 yards from
a tree stand I had just started using, I decided the shot was too risky for my
talent and waited for him to move to the pines. There was a second shooting
lane there where I would get a clear shot at the entire kill area. He was off
at a trot and passed through the second lane to fast for me to shoot. I let
the tension off the bow and watched him disappear back into the pines like the
ghost he was.

	I sat for a long time wishing I had taken that first shot and wondering
if I would ever get an opportunity like that again. It was hard to watch Ol
Mossy Back disappear. But it's the sport of the hunt and I don't like to take
risky shots where I might not get a clean kill. I owe that to game. I had
hunted for this buck the last two years now only to have him slip away.

	It was now 4:25 and off in the distance where the doe had first
appeared another doe emerged. She was following the same path as the first had
taken. Then to my surprise there he was again. They had made a full circle and
now were feeding their way down the ridge. I watch and wondered "think maybe
they'll come by again?" The doe took a slow turn and slowly headed in my
direction with Ol Mossy following. Naw can't be happening, I'm in a dream I
thought. Then I felt the breeze on the back of my neck. I was using a cover
sent but still was worried they would wind me and be gone. She continued right
back towards me. 50 yards shrank into 40 to 30 and she moved behind the same
hemlock where the buck had been just 30 minutes earlier with Ol Mossy right
behind.

	As they passed behind the tree I raised the bow and drew the arrow.
The 55 pound peak weight was not even noticed and when the 50% let off took
its' effect the hold weight felt like nothing at all. Adrenalin does wonders
for strength. This time instead of heading back to the pines she came around
the Hemlock and came straight at my stand. She wanted to pass through the break
in the old stone wall that was at the base of my tree. She stopped, 15 yards,
something was wrong. I held the draw hoping the buck would step out, but the
doe stomped her front foot to warn. She raise her head and tested the wind. Some
thing was there but she could not tell what or where. My heart pounded and 
seconds turned to minutes and the minutes to hours. The hold weight of the bow
was taking it toll. The strength was draining for my arms and shoulders faster
than I could muster that little extra inner strength and they began to burn with
fatigue.

	The Doe while raising her head to test the wind would look right at me.
I knew I couldn't move or I'd be spotted for sure. I could see the puzzle in
her as she tried to figure out what the heck that thing was up in the tree? 
I had on full cammo with face and hands cammo painted. After what seemed like
a lifetime she put her head down and behind a tree. I took the opportunity to 
relax the draw and return to rest. Thank God my bow is quiet, they didn't hear
the relaxing of he string. I could see the rack of  Ol Mossy move from time to
time while he waited for the doe to give the final warning or the all clear.
Still not sure what was wrong and not wanting to move into danger she turned
and moved back towards the pines to my left. She entered the pines and
disappeared.

	Finally satisfied all was fine, Ol Mossy began to move towards the
direction the doe had gone. I raised the bow and drew the arrow again. He
stepped out from behind the hemlock and stopped. All I could see was his head
and neck. I held the draw. He was soon on the move again back towards the 
exact same shooting lane where I had passed up the shot just 30 minutes
earlier. This time he stopped but in the middle of the lane with nothing but
his neck hidden. I aligned the arrow with the rear of his front shoulder 
and  ...

	As I sat with my heart sinking I could see what looked like the bright
green nock of my arrow just above the leaves on the forest floor. I sat there
for about 15 minutes till the woods were to dark to shoot. I climbed down and
walked over to retrieve my arrow but could not find it. What had looked like
my nock was a bright green leaf of grass. So where is my arrow? I took out
my pen light to search but still nothing. I decide to follow the tracks of
Ol Mossy and see if I had hit him. Right where he passed through the pines
the light struck something that glowed green. MY ARROW. Broken in half with
good blood almost all the way to the fletch. It was dark now and I could not
track with the small light, so I left the woods to get help and a better light.

	I called my friend Lance and told him of the deer. The forecast was for
rain and we agreed we had to go back in that night to find the deer or chance
loosing him. We entered the woods at 8:00 and arrived at my stand by 8:30.
The blood trail was all but missing and we had to track by following the bound
marks left by the deer. We found only small drops of blood from time to time.
After about 100 yards we found where it looked like the deer had stumbled.
I turned my flashlight to the spotlight setting and searched the woods ahead
as Lance followed the trail.

	I swept the light beam back and forth looking for a downed deer. The
light caught something white up ahead. Then I saw the whole deer. There he
was laying on his side. We approached him form opposite sides being careful.
Because this was night we left all weapons except our cleaning knives at home
and didn't want to take a chance of getting hurt. But the caution was not
needed this time.

	The deer had run about 150 yards before he fell. We looked for where
I had hit him. The arrow had entered mid way between the top of the back and
belly and 2 inches into the rear of the front shoulder. A perfect hit. We
wondered why I had seen the nock fly below the deer and can only figure it was
the arrow deflecting as it entered that caused the nock to appear to go under
the deer.

	We dressed the deer and had a good talk as we dragged the deer the 3/4
of a mile out of the woods. I took a lot of harassment from Lance that night for
not shooting the deer closer to the road. But then it's is nice to have a friend
that would come help in a moments notice and only adds to the richness of the
hunt.
	   
	Steve Drumm
	

	Ol Mossy
	White Tail
	12 points eastern count 17" inside spread. The main beams are palmed
	   and the riser points are all palmed.
	Weight 167lbs dressed, no heart/liver.
	

    Beautiful... both the story and the deer. Thank you.
    
    Lowell
    

 Thanks for sharing that story.

 The Doctah

    Great Story!!!  gettin' psyched for MA shotgun season!!!  Nice buck!!!

    Well, after getting the kinks out in the morning of the 13th, the
    3 of us decided to push an area behind the camp, since we took 2
    nice bucks out of there 2 years ago.
    
    At about 2 pm, I stumbled on a fresh scrape (moist dirt kicked up
    all over the place when everything else was frozen).  I was quartering
    into the wind, which was blowing from the SW.  I found several scrapes
    that were a couple of days old, so I decided to keep it quiet as
    the leaves were like cornflakes.
    
    About 3:15 pm, I heard what I assumed was one of the other hunters
    in my party walking up the hill on an angle towards me.  Since he
    entered the woods from my right, I figured it to be Tom Davis (DEC
    TWO).  I thought to myself, "gee, Tom is making a lot of noise if
    he's still hunting".  I was convinced it was him as the sound resembled
    a still hunter by the pattern of steps and pauses.
    
    Just about when I was about to whistle to him to notify him of my
    presence, I heard nothing.  Not wanting to take a chance, I decided
    to listen and wait.  About 2 minutes later, I heard the steps again,
    this time increasingly louder.  Looking over my right shoulder toward
    the noise, I see a nose of a deer sticking out from behind the jack
    spruce trees.  Oh boy, I'm ready.
    
    I then get down on one knee and click off the safety.  Not wanting
    to make the same mistake as 2 years ago when I rushed a shot and
    missed a nice 6-pointer, I breathed deeply to try and relax.  However,
    whenever this bad-boy stepped out from behind the tree, I nearly
    gasped out loud.  Major rocking chair on this guy!  I searched the
    area ahead of his movement for an opening and found a space between
    two birch trees that was about 18 inches wide.  It was really thick
    in this area and I didn't want to hit any branches, but time was
    running out as he approached my shooting lane.
    
    As soon as he hit the lane, about 20 feet away, I had my sights on the 
    diamond above his chest.  As he turn to look at me, I unloaded.
    I knew immediately that it was a lethal hit as he reared up on 2
    legs and crumpled to the ground like a bag of rocks.  As I approached
    the deer I knew that he felt nothing and never knew what hit him.
    A text book kill!  Upon field dressing him, I determined that the
    shot shattered the neck vertebrae.
    
    Since it started snowing, I knew I had my work cut out from me as
    it was getting dark.  I still can't figure this buck's movement
    out.  He was walking from the SW with the wind directly on his back.
    
    We finally got the deer back to camp at 10 that night.  It was the
    only deer taken in the entire campground that week out of about
    25 hunters.  On Wednesday, after it got warm, I stored it in a walk-in
    cooler until Saturday for $5 a day.  Best $20 I ever spent.
    
    The deer was a battler as all but 3 of the 8 points were roughed
    up and his neck and ears were scarred up.  The 9th point was broke
    off.

    Gonna be some good eatin'!
    
    Mark.

    Mark, that deer was thinking with the thing between his haunches,
    not his head..
    
    
    Nice kill....
    
    Jim
    

	My son was hunting this last week in Victory Bog above St Johnsbury, 
	Vermont...he did not bag anything but had this photo of himself 
	next to this big deer.  He was told that it was a new Vermont record.
 
			282 lbs dressed
	
	My son is over 230 lbs and I could see it was a BIG deer.

	The story goes that guy shooting the deer was in his favorite tree
	opening day and a 10+ pointer came his way.  He emptied his gun at
	it and missed.  He was so angry at him self he decided to leave the
	area.  On the  way back he chased out another deer and had several 
	shots at this second one.  After all this shooting he spotted the 
	big one standing there looking at him.  One shot got him...must 
	have been a cool deer.

	The checking station estimated him to be seven years old with well
	worn teeth...likely to die the next year.

    	It was an 8 pointer
    
	Wonder if this guy bathed in Tinks 69 or what?

	He had entered several big-buck contests and he is still winning in 
	all of them.

	Ed

	
    

    I learned a good lesson on the spike I got last friday. The deer came 
    out in the same place as the one I got last year but this was rifle
    season in New York so I had to be sure it was a buck. At first I 
    didn't see the spikes, even though they were 7" long. I was a good
    50 yards uphill from him and following him with the rifle trying to
    look for any sign of horns. When I finally saw them he was headed down
    into a little depression that would have taken him out of view. His
    belly was already at this level. So I picked a spot at about the back
    end of the rib cage and a little high (looking for a spine shot) and 
    let one go. It ended up hitting him high where I wanted but just in 
    front of the left hind leg (he was moving from my right to left). 
    However, because of the angle of the hill I was on and a slight 
    quartering the exit was through the middle of the right hind leg, 
    shattering the bone and splintering the bullet. He took of with what 
    looked like a normal running gate, so I wondered if I had hit him. I 
    went down to look at the spot where he was when I shot and found nothing,
    no hair, no blood, nothing. So I tried to follow his track, looking for 
    the turned up leaves where he bounded. 10 yards, 20 yards, 30 yards still
    nothing. I ended up getting off the track here, the leaves had been
    stirred up by the wind on this west facing hill and I probably went out
    about 100 yds this way looking for the bounding marks. I figured I 
    missed. But I wanted to be sure so I went back to the beginning and 
    started again, searching both sides of the track looking for some 
    spattering of blood, still nothing. It was getting dark and I was just 
    about convinced that I had missed but I thought back and the sights where 
    on the target, I wasn't nervous although I felt I rushed the shot a little.
    So I swapped the 30/30 for a flashlight and went back again. (Next time I 
    bringing a Q-beam not one of those little g#$ d$%^ pencil lights :^) ) 
    Anyway I started at the beginning again on my hands and knees and sweeping 
    the area with the flashlight. This time I stayed a little higher on the 
    hill, I found what looked like another bounding mark. I'm out 10 yards, 20 
    yards, 30 yards, nothing. I'm totally disgusted now because I think I might 
    have hit him, so I'm sitting down leaning on my elbow still sweeping 
    with the flash light and finally a flash of red about 2 feet in front 
    of my arm. Well it took awhile finding the specs of blood and the 
    occasional splash (probably about 45 min. he went a good 200-250 yards) 
    but I found him laying belly down, like he laid down, right beside a 
    brook in this little hollow about the size of his body, just about 40 
    feet from the main paved road ( he was well hidden from view, noone 
    would have found him unless they tripped over him). So the moral of 
    the story is check and recheck, make sure.
    
    Good luck all,
    John

    re .last
    	<.........estimated him to be seven years old with well
    work teeth...likely to die the next year.>
    
    	Last deer I shot (more years ago than I care to think about)
    was an 18 1/2 year old doe in beautiful looking shape.  This
    according to a letter sent me by the Maine game biologist who
    took a tooth.
    	(I accused my friend of being drunk while cooking the liver
    from that matriarch.  It was unedible.)
    
    Andy
    

>    	Last deer I shot (more years ago than I care to think about)
>    was an 18 1/2 year old doe in beautiful looking shape.  This

18 1/2?  That's old for a deer.  I didn't know they lived that long, 
even under the best of conditions.  I have to wonder about a typo on 
the warden's part.

Scott

    re.   last
    
    <..............didn't know they lived that long.......wonder about
    a typo........>
    
    	NO TYPO.  A pre-printed form with blank spaces to fill in was
    sent me. Printed on the form was something like "Your deer was
    ___________________________ years old."  The biologist or warden
    had hand written in the blank space, "an incredible 18 1/2" 
    then under that he wrote, "very few deer live to this age, even in
    captivity."  At the time I looked through all the books I had and
    found 1 reference to a deer that had lived to be 21 years old in
    some zoo.
    
    Andy
    

I read one  account of a whitetail doe lving to be 23.  She was not
in a zoo, either.  I forget the name of the book, but it was some 
    huge tome on deer in North America.  I believe that it was written
    by Leonard LaRue II.
    
    Jerry

    Small nit...  That's Len Lee Rue II.
    
    Mark.

    Monday, opening day of the Massachusetts shotgun season, what a day.
    I got to my stand at around 6:30 and settled in for the long haul.
    I saw a couple of red squirrels and a grouse or two between then and
    9:30 when the first doe came down to within 30' of me, sniffing the air
    and trying to see if there was any danger ahead of her. She didn't
    spook until she moved so that her shadow crossed this spot of sunshine.
    She jumped back about two feet (no I didn't have a doe permit and no
    I didn't laugh, not an easy thing to do). Anyway, she decided not to
    come my way and went back up the hill and off to my left, then another
    one comes across the hill from left to right but didn't come down my
    way this time, she stayed about 50 yards out. Well, anytime I see a
    dear when I'm out hunting, that makes the day for me. After that I had
    one of the biggest grey squirrels I've ever seen come along and walk
    along about a foot in back of me, across the trail I was sitting near
    and up a tree. I was watching him go up the tree and he must have seen
    my head move cause he started barking. Well I figured that would be it
    for awhile so I just held still and he went on about his business.
    Around 10:30 two does come up over the hill from my left but a lot 
    closer and on the trail where I expected them to come up. I could here
    footsteps behind them and they didn't seem to skiddish (probably the
    same two does but who knows) then I heard a grunt, and those two does
    trotted back to him instantly. I never heard a deer doe that before.
    They circled up around the hill to where they came in from before and
    the two does came back down into my left again. I figured the buck
    would follow them down so I got the gun ready. The does are foolin
    around 50 to 60' off to my left and the bucks hanging back and my left
    sholder is starting to burn so I lower the barrel down to rest on a
    branch and the two does wonder back up the hill taking the buck with
    them. I probably could have taken a shot but there was a lot of brush
    and I thought sure he would have followed them down. Oh well.. A little
    while after that Fatso (the grey squirrel) comes back looking around
    for nuts and climbs up on a branch and we're lookin face to face about
    20" apart (geez I get a kick outa that) didn't know I was there and
    went on about his business. I stayed there till about 3:00 and decided
    to go home and try to start up one of my cranky cars so it would be
    ready for work (yuk, retch, agh) the next day. I get out about 100' or
    so on the trail and someone lets loose. First one shot, then four as
    fast as you can pull the trigger. Well I chuckled to myself and
    continued on out. Almost all of the way out I heard voices and decided
    to investigate. Yup, it looked like the same buck, small 5 point rack, 
    not much bigger than his ears. The guy hit it with the first shot but
    when it started running he let loose with the other four, never
    touching it again. The worst part of it was that two of the loads were
    buckshot (geez I wish they'd outlaw that stuff before someone gets
    hurt). Well it looked like he would go about 110lbs. and this other guy
    that was there helped drag the deer out while I carried out the heart
    and liver. Oh, forgot to tell you, on the way out after the shot I
    flushed a small turkey, never had one do that to me before either. 
    So no I didn't get one but I figure I had one hell of a day. 
    
    Thanks for listening,
    John
    
    P.S. No I'm not going to tell you where I was.
    

    
    Well, I blew it, my chance at the deer of a lifetime and he's still
    out there.   I made alot or mistakes due to lack of experience and
    the adrenalin being faster than the brain waves.
    
    Sunday morning, sitting on my stand about 9am. I hear a coyote start
    barking along ways off, as I listen to it, it is making a heck of a
    racket, and coming closer very fast. I figure he's running a deer or 
    something, and since he is coming closer and seems to be coming
    straight at me, I figure I'll see something.  We (my 2 uncles and I)
    are stretched out along a river, with me in the middle. One uncle about
    300 yds down hill, one someplace uphill.
    
    Well as the coyote gets closer, I start to think maybe I should stand 
    up to turn around, since he is coming basically behind me. Just then I 
    hear a noice over the back of my right shoulder, so (mistake 1) I snap
    my head around so fast I almost got whiplash. What to my wondering
    eyes appears, but antlers, big ones.  The deer is traveling parallel
    to the base of a hill, and will pass behind my and come out overmy 
    left shoulder, if I let him.  But no (mistake 2), I jump and turn
    coming down on my knees (was sitting) facing the deer. Up til this 
    point he had no clue I was there.  He froze, I had the gun up. Good you
    are thinking. Wrong, his body and head was blocked out by a small pine
    tree.  He is at about 25 yards, broadside, all I can see is his bum
    sticking out. So naturally I should wait for him to step forward. But
    again, the brain waves never get downstream against the flow of
    adrenalin. I lean out to one side hoping to be able to see around the
    tree. That's it, he's sees me and he starts making tracks up the hill.
    
    Two quick shots later, never touched a hair. Well after I stop shooting
    about 1 sec goes by, and someone else shoots. The deer ran right
    infront of my Uncle, he cut loose and missed. (he can't believe he
    missed, he says the deer was right on the post). We check for hits and
    track him for about 1 hr. just to make sure.  By this time I am not
    real sure we are on the same deer. He had walked through several 
    places were deer have scraped up the snow to get to the acorns, he also
    went into and out of some trails, I did what I could but was not sure 
    I was still on the same track.  Then it comes to a point were there 
    are two tracks and the separate. Both going the same way, same size and
    about the same age track. I say I don't know, so I start up hill
    to talk it over with my Uncle. As we are talking. He says "DONT MOVE, 
    there are 2 deer right behind you"  It turns out they were a doe and
    yearling. They walked out around a knob into view. We watched them 
    for about 5 minutes as they went from anywere from 25 to 60 yards away.
    
    After a few minutes I shifted my weight, and move my gun, well, both
    deer were facing away, so I figured I was safe (it was also snowing
    like the end of the world, and the wind was in our favor.) As I moved
    the gun, the swivel for the sling squeked ever so slightly. The mother
    doe's head snapped to attention, eyes staring right at me. My gun is 
    in mostly one hand in a position that looks like I am doing curls with
    it. Well we did not want to spook the deer incase there was a buck 
    around.  Her tail was twitching and the ears were up like radar
    screens.  I did not move for a couple of minutes (my arm was starting
    to cramp). She then looked like she was trying to get me to move. She
    would fake putting her head down, and snap back up, walked towards me
    a little, start to turn around and spin back quick, turned all the way
    around. Finally the wind swirled and she got a good wiff. She blew some
    type of noise (sounded like an elephant with larangitus), boy was it
    loud. I guess it was the "lets get the heck out of here" signal because
    both tails went up and off they went.
    
    I learned alot watching the does. They had no clue we were there so I 
    was fun watching them.  I noticed how easily they disappeared behiind
    trees. I got practice spotting them, parts of them and just watching 
    there body english when relaxed and worried.  All in all a good day
    
    The season total: ( a good year) 
    
    saw 1 bear, had 2 partridge on the ground 6 feet from me, and saw 3
    deer, missed the biggest one of my life, as my Uncle put it "That's
    the biggest deer you'll ever miss" nice guy huh? He says it's the 
    biggest deer he's ever seen (he's been hunting for along time) it 
    would have gone over 200lbs.  But we did save him from the coyote,
    which went the other way after the shots.  Saw deer totally relaxed, 
    and got to watch them for awhile. Hopefully learned some lessons that
    will beat the adrenalin next time.
    
    --Bob

    well this story is about a bittersweet series of event which took place
    in Mass...
    
    It all started back in Oct....  Steve N. and I had been scouting a
    really nice area in Mass, we had seen lots of deer in the past, and
    even had some success, albiet limited.
    
    About a week before the bow season, we had come across an excellent
    area with lots of fresh scrapes and numerous rubs, big rubs... so we 
    set up shop in a couple of hemlocks, Steve with a custom built stick
    framed contemporary, and myself with a portable loggy bayou.  both 
    were about 15' up with 3-4 good shooting lanes, bordering a swamp and 
    a hemlock grove, with some nasty suckerbrush along a stream seperating 
    the two of us. If you've ever read about edge hunting, this was it!
    
    Opening morning we got in without a hitch, well before dawn...  Around
    7:30 AM Steve had a nice 6 pointer go by him about 50 yards out, too
    far for a shot.  8:20 AM I have a big 8 pointer come in to tend his
    scrape, 7 yards from my treestand, I wait him out and watch him go
    through his whole routine, thrashing up the scrape, pissing in it,
    rubbing his tarsal glands,licking the branches above his head etc...
    
    I had put Tinks 69 in the scrape for those of you that care to know, 
    and will use it again, it worked like a charm.  He stepped out from the
    scrape broadside slightly quartering away, and I drew the bow, took aim
    and released, it looked like a perfect hit, almost 100% penetration. 
    Deer ran off with about 6" of the arrow sticking out of him.
    
    After about a 10 minute wait, I took to the trail... good blood sign,
    looked like bright red lung blood, only on the left side though, arrow
    never exited, making tracking tough, about 200 yards into the track,
    the blood started to peter out...  the last 400 yards there was just
    blood drops here and there and rubbed on laurel branches and leaves...
    Had it not been for Steve and his brother Brian helping to track it, we
    would have lost the trail much sooner.  They can track with me anytime!
    
    The 3 of us scoured the area for 6 hours, till they took their night
    stand, I looked till dark.  Made me sick thinking about it... went out
    looking the next 2 days hoping to come across it, worse case being that 
    I could at least salvage the rack. I called my butcher and told him
    about it and asked to keep his ears open. 
    
    Their was reports of a big 10 pointer seen running across a local golf
    course with an arrow sticking out of his side, with 5 hunters hot on
    his trail at 10 am opening morning... thats about 2 miles as the crow
    flies, much longer if you take into account the terrain...
    
    Lots of things crossed my mind in the 4 weeks since...  the validity of
    hunting with a bow was one of them... heavier arrows, $h!tcan the
    overdraw, better broadheads... you name it I thought of it.
    
    Yesterday, My butcher comes over with his wife and hands me a broadhead
    with about 3" of shaft.... it's mine! he said he pulled it out of the
    shoulder of a 170 lb 8 pointer taken by a local on opening morning of
    the shotgun season.  Took 3 slugs to put it down, all chest shots...
    
    Turns out the broadhead shattered the left shoulder high, and lodged in
    the right shoulder bone low, missing the vitals by a couple of inches.
    asked him about the broadhead, said he had to pull it out of the bone
    with pliers. needless to say it went above and beyond the call of duty.
    heaviers arrows? it went through one shoulder, and lodged into another,
    how much more do you need I was asked.
    
    It was a bittersweet bow season; had a beauty of a deer, a close shot,
    a wounded deer, but one that was eventually recovered, and got to take
    a look at the rack up close... it was a beauty!  17 1/2" inside spread
    with 6" main tines, a 2" diameter base, with 3" brow tines... butcher
    estimated that he probably lost approx 20 lbs during the rut, which
    would have put him at 190 dressed back on the archery opener...
    
    Talked to the guy who shot it... said he felt bad, I said "don't be
    crazy, i'm just glad someone harvested it, would have been a shame to
    have it go to waste."  Made me feel better knowing what happened to it,
    guess all those prayers to St. Anthony paid off after all.
    
    Fra                   

     RE: 29
     
     Reminds me of the story a neighbor of mine told. Seems he had the same
    type of shot, and tracked the deer for three days. Blood trail had
    petered out after the first day, but he kept on it until a snow came
    and blotted out whatever sign was left to follow.
     Three years later, while at a friend's house, he noticed a broadhead
    and a piece of shaft on his buddy's mantle and asked about it.
     His buddy explained that the deer he had butchered that year had a big
    (fist sized) lump of gristly looking growth right in the vitals area.
    The man became curious and cut the mass open, and discovered the
    broadhead.
     Upon closer examination, my neighbor was able to see where he had
    engraved his initials onto the broadhead and proudly announced that
    they BOTH had shot the same deer.
    
    Bob

    
    re .29
    
    Fra,
    
    It really has to make you feel good that the deer didn't just run off
    and die somewhere.  They are truely amazing.  My hunting buddies
    brother shot a big 200 lber this year, that had quite the depression,
    and scar along the spine.  Nothing was recovered from the very old
    wound, but it didn't slow that big boy down.  I think it was from a 
    broadhead, it sure looked like it anyway.  
    
    By the way, I still remember my mother telling me about the devotion to
    St. Anthony, I've heeded her advice over the years, and not once has it
    let me down.  Somehow, there's always an answer.
    
    Kevin

    
       Well,  I didn't score this year. But i had my chances..
    
      The first week in Maine was "WET" very wet...  When it finally
    dried a little we had windy weather...  I remember one morning
    i was in the woods about 15 minutes and i heard a shot about 100
    yds away...  I sat tight and waited... Then i hear some noise and
    see some saplings moving. I finally saw a nice rack moving about
    40 yds away in the thicket.. I put the scope on him, Where is he??
    I put the gun down and see him again. I couldn't find hin in the
    scope, Finally he sees me and his ears stick straight up..
    I find his neck and "Bang" He runs,,, I went over to check it out..
    I looked for about an hour for blood and hair... 	I finally found
    a drop of blood, One drop about 50 yds from where i shot... I looked
    for 20 minutes before i found any more blood.... I tracked it into
    the swamp.. Lost him!!!!!   Later that day i was at the back side
    of the swamp in some swale grass,,, I saw a bed and it had a spot
    about the size of a half dollar of blood... It wasen't dark blood
    so i know i choked on the shot and nicked him... 
    
             Later back at camp i was telling everyone about it and
    Jeff, another part of our group comes in and says he found blood
    and tracked it into the swamp to...   
    
            I missed him,  And also missed 2 small bucks standing together
    at about 150 yds....    Mabey next year....
    
    
      Hey Jim,  Does that damm gun shoot straight??? I hit the targets,,
    But not " ANY " deer..... (-:\\\
    
    
                 Jeff_Who Thanks All Of You Who Have Written
        
                            

    I thing we need to do the same thing for you that we're going to do for
    Rick..
    
    Next year we'll jump a few deer and staple paper plates on them. That
    way when  you see a deer, aim for the plate....Both you and Rick are
    real killers when it comes to paper plates....
    
    This friend of mine, Rick Pullen, shot at 6 deer this year....Two 
    BIG bucks..He settled for an 8 point 160 pounder....I'd have settled
    for that....(for those of you in Augusta, Rick is Donna Pullen's
    husband)
    
    Jim
    

    We check into our lodgings late on Sunday afternoon, after getting 
    the hunting gear squared away we decided to drive into town for dinner.
    We get down the road about a mile when this deer jumps out from the
    side of the road into the truck.  After a few minutes of deciding what 
    to do, we load the deer into the truck and call the game warden.  He
    tells us that we have 24 hours to check the deer with him and that we can 
    keep it if we want. (you bet!)
    
    After a long day of hunting and not seeing anything on Monday, we load the
    deer into the truck and head into town to meet the warden.  At almost the
    same exact spot another deer crossed the road in front of us, instead of
    continuing across the road, the deer turns and decides to cross in front of
    us again.  Too late!  We hit deer number two.  So we load this deer into the
    truck and off to the game warden's.
    
    After surveying the damage to the truck (approx. $300) and inspecting the
    deer, the warden tagged them and mentioned that several deer had been killed
    on the same road all summer.
    
    The next two days were just frustrating, numerous opportunities and
    missed shots.
    
    Final score; two bucks, one damaged truck
    
    

      Went out yesterday aprox. ten miles from my house.  I had never
    hunted this particular area before but we decided to give it a try.
    Had been in the woods about 1 hour, still hunting along the edge
    of a field, when I saw a deer leap a stone wall.  Since the wind
    was in my face, I decided to circle back around a small hill in
    the middle of the field.  There was no real cover, just the hill
    between where I had seen the deer and me.  Two minutes later along
    comes a little skipper weighing around 60lbs, then a second one and Ma.
    They ended up passing 22 paces in front of me.  We were all in the
    middle of the field with the only cover being knee high hay!  They
    looked at me and I stared back.  They were beutiful.  The sun was
    up just enough to highlite them.  THe temperture was around 10 degrees
    so they all had clouds of vapor above there heads.  Finally they
    walked off and got down wind of me, at which point they ran off.
    Definetely a sight to remember. Saw three other does later, but
    no bucks.  
    
    Jeff

    Re. .34
    
    	I'll assume that you'll be selling your reloading equipment
    as you don't seem to have a need for ammo......Also, along that
    line, what do you want for your rifle ? .....
    
    	Smile,
    
    	Red

    RE: .34
    
     Your story of the deer crossing in the same spot reminds me of a story
    told by a (Maine) warden. Seems there was one particular area on a busy
    road where the deer would cross right by a sharp curve in the road.
    After a few road kills, the state put up DEER CROSSING signs a couple
    hundred yards on either side of the area.
     Sure as hell, the next day the warden gets a phone call from an IRATE
    citizen. This fellow was upset that the spot the state had chosen
    for the deer to cross was very dangerous to the animals, and
    he should get the signs moved to a safer stretch of road to keep the
    deer from getting hurt. 
     I'm surprised this Bozo didn't ask for a stoplight where the deer
    could press the button to get the light to change, and the sign to
    change from "don't walk" to "WALK".
    
    Takes all kinds, I guess
    
    Bob
     

    
    
    re: .29
    
    	Fra, Sorry to hear about your luck, stuff like that happens to the
    best.  It's wild how a matter of inches can spell the difference some-
    times.  As for trashing the overdraw, etc...  Give yourself some time
    for thoughts over the winter and then make your choice.  To be honest
    with you, from what else I've heard, I'm impressed that your arrow
    performed as well as it did!  That's a tough act to follow.  I'll
    bet you actually felt much better hearing about the fella's success
    with the shotgun;  You knew the deer lived!  BTW, what was the date
    on the opener?  I'm curious about timing and scrape hunting...
        Did you have your rattling antlers with you that day??
          
    - Rob
         
    

    Rob, 
    
    Thanks, after hearing the butchers opinions and seeing the broadhead,
    I think the equipment did its job and more, I guess I need more
    practice in judging sizes of 190# (dressed) deers anatomys before i can
    the equipment... like you said, I've got a whole year to think it over.
    
    the mass opener was on Nov 6th, I had the antlers with me, and was
    getting ready to pull em out in another 1/2 hour or so... i had 4 
    canisters of tinks on the ground around the scrape and had poured a
    little into it... there were several scrapes in the area all within a
    50 yard radius... 2 days later we found 15-20 rubs not more than 50
    yards from the treestand... we had walked right by them during our
    scouting...  I think the key here was that it was geographically
    perfect for deer... we were on an "edge"...  hemlocks down along a hill
    ending at a stream with about 30' of brush on each side of it. with
    another small hill on the other side of the stream... all the scrapes
    were on the edge of the hemlocks paralleling the stream. With the rubs
    just 15 yards further up the hill paralleling the scrapes... thermals 
    took the tinks scent right up the hill...  i'll tell ya theres alot to
    be said for hunting from a treestand, the deer came in from up hill
    into the wind directly at me. If I had been on the ground the show
    would have been over before it started...
    
    I was really glad someone harvested it, would have been a shame...
    truely amazing what a couple of inches can buy you!
    
    happy holidays,  Fra

    
    
    
                   As I stalk the silent wilderness
                   With every sense aware
                   No falling leaf or waving branch
                   Eludes my darting stare
    
                   I travel like the wind
                   Silent killer in my hand
                   Invisible to all that see
                   I cross the sacred land
    
                   I reach my destination 
                   A stand of saplings, oak, and birch
                   I slowly make my stealthy way
                   Up the hardwood to my perch
    
                   Now I become a statue
                   A rock of silent perception
                   Waiting for that telltale sound
                   Which could come from any direction
            
                   A dozen times you think you hear it
                   Your nerves are put to the test
                   Only to find a rabbit or squirrel
                   Or a mouse digging it's nest
    
                   Then you finally hear it 
                   That sound you cannot mistake
                   Your quarry took an unfortunate step
                   And the twig just happened to break
    
                   Now it becomes a waiting game
                   Until the final battle's fought
                   You hone the edge of every sense
                   As you plan the perfect shot
    
                   Finally your patience rewards you
                   You see the flash of brown and white
                   Nerves tense, adrenaline flows
                   Your muscles knot up tight
    
                   As your quarry slowly approaches
                   And you ponder your endeavor
                   Every silent, careful step
                   Seems to take forever
     
                   Now comes the final battle
                   Between mind and nerves and skill
                   Above all looms your duty
                   To make a clean and humane kill
    
                   This is what you've worked for 
                   Spent your money, time, and sweat
                   The call of primeval instinct
                   A challenge to be met
    
                   You draw your primitive weapon
                   As your prey moves into position
                   Your skill and practice and patience
                   Can now reach final fruition
    
                   As you finally release your bowstring
                   And hope your shaft flies true
                   A million thoughts and feelings
                   Are suddenly thrust upon you
    
                   Your arrow hits the target
                   Broadhead pierces heart
                   You sit and watch and listen
                   You know you've done your part
    
                   Now you've finally done it
                   Gotten your first deer
                   No other memory you ever had
                   Could ever be so clear
    
                   To take your first with a bow
                   Brings a certain appreciation
                   Of nature and challenge and patience
                   And the spirit of preservation
    
                                                  --Eric Ruman
    

    Nice poem.  Builds me up for this weekend.  With the exception that
    I am replacing my primitive weapon with my ruger 7mm mag.
    
    Bob
    

    The next note is a story of the hunting trip that I was fortunate to be
    a part of last week. It's about my two good friends moose hunt. I hope 
    you all enjoy it.
    
    Gus

    			When, Rinella?? 8^)

                            The Moose Hunt


It was 1:00pm on a dreary, rainy Friday afternoon. Everything was packed and 
we were ready to head up north for our hunting trip. Arty and Tony drove
together as I followed them up in my own truck. There was a smell of success
in the air. I could tell that this was going to be a great hunting trip, my
friends were going to bag their first moose I thought. I couldn't help
thinking that maybe I too would get lucky and shoot a deer.

Arty and I had applied for a moose permit. This was our first time and Tony 
had gone in half on the application with Arty. Somehow I knew Arty would get 
picked. He is the type of person who has the luck, especially when it comes to 
hunting. After a month of waiting I got the call, Arty got the permit and Tony 
was going to be the sub-permitee! He even got his first area pick, Pittsburgh 
N.H., moose capital. Arty asked me if I would join them on their trip, I
hesitated and told him I would have to think about it. I am very indecisive
which complicated my decision more. My friend Kevin had asked me to go to Pa.
bow hunting a few weeks prior and I told him then that I wasn't sure what I
wanted to do. I finally decided that this would be an experience of a life
time. I could still bow hunt for deer, but most of all I could be there when
Arty and Tony shot their first moose. 

As we pulled up to Tony's cousins camp, my truck decided to die. I tried to
start it but to no avail. As we were charging my battery with Tony's truck and
trying to figure out why I was getting no spark, I looked up to see a big Bull
Moose staring at us, only feet away from the cabin. It crossed right by us
and headed out to a clearing in front of the cabin. The season didn't open
until Saturday so we could only shoot it with our cameras. Would this be the   
moose that Arty shoots???

Tony's cousins, Rick and Scott arrived and we got the camp opened and started
supper. After a few beers and exchanging stories we hit the sack.

Saturday, Day One:

We were awake by 4:30am, had some breakfast and I wished Arty and Tony luck.
I still hunted the back of the cabin only to jump a coyote. The moose sign was
overwhelming but not much in the way of deer sign. I was back to camp by noon
and found the boys there. They had taken time out of their hunt to go to town,
which was 45 minutes away, and get me a coil. I installed it and they headed
off on their hunt again. They hadn't seen any moose road hunting that morning
but seen quite a few that had been shot. My battery was dead so I headed out 
to set up my tree stand. I found a nice spruce overlooking a big clearing and 
20 yards away from a moose rub. I had my friends in mind with my stand 
placement as it would be their stand if they wished. When I got back to camp 
we jumped started my truck only to find that the coil did not solve the 
problem. I was at an all time low. How would I get this thing fixed??? 
Arty and Tony stayed near the camp with hopes of seeing that Bull Moose from 
Friday, but he never showed. Had he been taken all ready? Day one ended with 
no sightings for any of us, but the week was still young.

Sunday:

I was in my stand by 6:00am, ever so hopeful to see a deer come by, but
welcoming any moose sightings. There were alot of shots that morning, and 
they weren't very far from me. I was to see no deer this morning. Back at the 
camp I contemplated what to do with the truck that was haunting me. The rain had
started and all I could do was sit on the porch and have a few beers. Rick and
Scott were heading home and I thanked them for letting us use their camp. I
asked if they would mind if I left my Ford F150 there as a lawn ornament, they
chuckled and headed home. After some checks, I felt that it was a bad
distributor module. Well there was nothing else that I could do. Dinner was
ready by the time Arty and Tony came back and we sat down and ate. They told
me of the Big Bull Moose they saw up on a mountain this morning and they were
going back after it tomorrow morning. They invited me to tag along with them
Monday. Tony had said he seen alot of deer sign on top of the mountain and it
might be a good spot to set up a stand. I agreed to join them.   

Monday:

We awoke to a cool, cloudy, windy morning, had breakfast and we were getting 
into Tony's truck. I had my wife's small 35mm camera in my camos but remembered 
I only had 5 shots left. I quickly ran back into the cabin to search for more 
film but couldn't find it. Somehow I knew we would need the camera today.
At the mountain, we decided that we would meet on top. I was about 200 yards 
away from them as I started up the mountain. This was the most deer sign I had
seen so far. Tony had told me of the amount of sign on this mountain, so my
hopes where high on seeing deer. When I finally got up on a peak, I was over-
whelmed by the awesome beauty of the surrounding mountains. While I sat there 
for awhile to enjoy the view, I heard a shot, then another and finally a third.
It was 9:00am. I quickly headed towards the direction that the shots came from 
when I heard Arty whistling and calling my name. I hollered back, but there 
was no response. 

I finally found them and Tony motioned the size of the antlers,"It's huge", he
shouted. As I walked up to them, there he laid, a big Bull Moose.  I shook
their hands and we admired this great animal. They told me how they worked
around the base of this peak, nose to the wind, and Arty saw this Bull
standing there. He quickly took the shot and all of a sudden another Bull Moose
stood up and started to run away, a cow joined him as the first moose was
still staggering. The next two shots sealed it's faith for a quick clean kill.
The 30.06 did it's job, and it did it well. We admired it for awhile and
estimated it to weigh about 900lbs. I pulled out my camera and took pictures.
The only way to get him out was to quarter him and it was fortunate that I had
the camera along. 

Tony pulled out his knife and prepared for the chore at hand. Before he started
he looked at Arty and I, chuckled and said, "what have we done?", " How are we 
going to get him down the mountain?". We where 3/4 of a mile away from the
truck and the way down was very thick.

The Drag:

I nor anyone else could or would ever imagine the work that was to follow.
Arty and I started dragging one rear quarter each. That only lasted about
20 minutes. We guessed the rear quarter to be about 160lbs each. It took us 
two hours to drag them down, both of us dragging one quarter at a time 20 or
30 yards. Needless to say we were exhausted, but we headed back up the mountain
to do it all over again. Tony had finished quartering the front section, ribs 
and all. It took us 45 minutes to get the rack off and I had the honors of
taking the rack, 30.06, bone saw and come-along down the mountain. I was to go 
back to camp and fill a back back with drinks. It took me an hour to get down 
the mountain and I did not envy Arty and Tony with their drag. The front 
quarters had to weigh at least 230lbs each! 

When I finally got back to the mountain, I was hoping to find them half way
down. To my dismay, I found them only about a couple hundred yards from the
kill sight. Tony was lying on the ground and Arty was feeling pretty sick.
They were dehydrated. The juice drinks went down quick and after a short rest
we started the drag again. It took the three of us to drag one quarter at a
time, going over downed trees and every other natural obstacle. I felt like the 
lead dog pulling in front. We finally made it to the truck a little after 7:00
pm. We all agreed that we have never worked so hard in all our lives. It took
ten hours of hard labor from start to finish. Back at camp, while we were
sitting by the fire totally exhausted, the question was raised "Would you do it
all over again??" the answer was a unanimous YES! We worked as a team, and had
accomplished a great task, for no one could ever imagine the pain that we went
through and the tremendous satisfaction after it was all over.

Tuesday, Check In:

We slept in late on this day and took care of chores. At the weigh in station,
one rear and front quarter together weighed in at 385lbs. The rack had a 55"
paddle spread with 17 points and a beam of 7.4cm weighing a little over 40lbs.
The estimated dress weight was about 920lbs. It was estimated to be about 5 
years old. Everyone was impressed with the rack, it certainly was a nice one!

As for me, well my truck finally got fixed Tuesday, the head mechanic at the 
Ford Dealer agreed that it was probably the distributor module. Boy was I
happy, I felt like my vacation was just starting. I sat in my tree stand 
Wednesday morning and had the pleasure of seeing a big Cow Moose and her two 
young ones come within 40 yards of me. Still no deer so I decided to do some 
Grouse hunting. Jumped two the whole day, didn't see the first as it flew off 
behind me and I missed the shot on the second one. It was still a very 
enjoyable day. There is nothing I love more, except for my family, then 
being out in the wilderness. But all good things must come to an end.

On Thursday we headed home. I was sadden that I had to leave but we had awoken
to a stormy day and we all missed our families. As we drove off, I wished it
was starting all over again. Maybe some time in the near future we will again
be able to experience a moose hunt. I will certainly keep applying for a 
permit every year as will Arty and Tony and hopefully will be a team again. It 
truly had turned out to be an experience of a life time.

Gus
    
            

    
    Gus great story! Wish either you or me had been picked for a permit
    tho. That would have been great! Things still turned out great for you, 
    Arty and Tony. I'm kinda glad I wasn't there a ten hour drag doesnt
    sound like much fun to me. You were still sore days later when you came
    back to work. Maybe next year either you or I will get picked, then we'll
    show these guys what a trophy bull moose looks like!
    
    Walt          

    One of my hunting buddies was bow hunting for deer near Warner, NH this 
    weekend.  While sitting against a large rock he heard the unmistakeable
    sound of running feet.  Looking up, he saw 3 70-80 lb cubs approaching
    from a nearby deer run, followed by the sow.  He had come to a draw
    fully expecting the sound to be deer, but lowered his aim to watch the
    drama unfold in front of him.  Not wanting to run, he simply froze,
    hoping the bears wouldn't sent him.
    
    Suddenly the cubs changed direction and ambled off to his left, which
    unfortunately put the him between the cubs and the sow.  Sure enough,
    she scented him and came up on her hind legs about 12 feet away, baring
    her teeth and snarling.  He shouted at the bear to try and ward her
    off, but she inched closer as he started to back away, this time in a
    full draw (I still can't believe he had the presence of mind to keep a
    steady draw, but afterwards he explained that his adrenalin rush was
    different from that we experience with buck fever...apparently he made
    himself remain calm by getting "mad" at the bear."  I would have messed
    my pants.
    
    Anyway, to make a long story short, the bear in fact approached within
    10 feet before he put an arrow in her throat.  After assuring himself
    that he in fact hit her, my buddy bolted to his truck and phoned the
    warden and state police.  After searching for the bear with the
    authorities and not finding a blood trail, they returned to my buddy's
    camp and recounted the events.  At first they accused him of taking a
    bear out of season, but my friend convinced them that a) he has never
    hunted bear and would certainly never in the future, b) demonstrated by
    the foot prints in the leaves that his account was true c) would never
    intentionally shoot a sow with cubs, and d)was obviously deer hunting
    by virtue of his gear (grunt, scents, location etc).  And due to the
    lack of blood trail, the authorities didn't believe he actually hit the
    bear.
    
    My buddy returned to the site the next day and finally found the sow. 
    To his credit, he refused to leave the bear in the woods when he *knew*
    he hit her.  After gutting the bear and tying her up in a tree, he
    again called the game warden who met him at the site.  After a long
    discussion, the gamey agreed to tag the bear and let my buddy keep her.
    
    Needless to say, I believe he did the right thing given the
    circumstances.  He didn't shoot the bear until he was convinced that
    she was gonna charge.  I'm surprised he let her get as close as she did
    - 10 ft.
    
    The cubs were spotted again Sunday and we believe they'll make it
    through the winter...they appeared to be about 80 lbs and 1.5 yrs of
    age.
    
    Mark.

    
        It is similar to a story that happened to a hunter here in Maine on
    Saturday in the Norway area. The hunter was charged from behind by a
    bull moose and gorged by the bulls antlers but most of the injury he
    obtained was from the animals hoofs. I guess he finally got ahold of
    his rifle again and fired at it as it was leaving him.

    re. 47 I heard of something like that happening. Apparantly all the guy
    got for injuries was a broken finger. He shot it with a muzzleloader I
    guess, and when they found the moose there was a gunshot wound from
    about 30 days prior. Someone tried to poach him earlier maybe? I guess
    from the rut and the wound it made him a bit crazy. But I had thought
    that It had happened in N.H. but I got the story second hand anyways.
    			Bret_who_cuts_his_cast_off_his_right_hand_Nov._10th