Openning day, first run of the season.
Half the camp went to the south runs, to sit and call deer.
I took the other half, and 'dogged' (we had no dog) a fairly large section of bush. Now known as the five mile dog (more later ) .
Part way through this section of bush, I heard one shot. Shortly, I met another hunter. Seems I was tresspassing, and didn't know it. However, as I had pushed him out a doe, he was happy, and agreed we could cross his land whenever we wanted.
Shortly after that, in the cut over section of bush I knew to be crown land, I ran into four more hunters on separate stands. I was not pleased. Seams I was pushing deer to everyone BUT our people.
I got as far as the Hydro, and climbed up to an old deer watch we called 'top of the world', to have a rest.
You can see maybe four hundred yards in one direction from there down a long beaver meadow, into beach hardwoods. Suddenly I saw movement, a deer was walking down the side of the meadow towards me.
Easy shot for a scope equiped super magnum. But, I had my 1892 Winchester in 44-40. I sat perfectly still and watched the does progress, as she aproached from about two hundred yards out. She was following the edge of the meadow, nipping browse, and unawares. I readied the shot at 100 yards, but she turned, and headed up the very steep hill towards me. You're going to save me a lot of sweat I thought, and let her come on up.
She passed me at 50 feet, still unawares, as I sat, with the sights constantly trained on her. She began to turn away to go back down the other side of the swamp. The 44-40 spoke, and cycled.
She jumped twice. Fell over, kicked a couple of times and was still.
I blew the whistle for help, and went down to gut.
The 44 had gone clean through, no big mess, nice clean kill.
I whistled again, and again.
?
I started the drag up to the base of the cliff.
Finally, a camp member 'Mike' showedup with Brian and our newest and youngest member in tow.
The youngster had been sitting a hundred yards away when I shot, but didn't understand that it was me shooting, even when I blew the whistle.
From that point, the youngster and I took the guns, and, Brian our slave, took the deer. Damn but he can pull. Mike did his best imitation of work, by walking, and climbing ahead and holding up the rope. With my free hand, I helped getting the carcass around trees and over wedged logs on the cliff face.
Father would have enjoyed that. This old deer watch was his. He sat there many a day, when he was healthy enough to get in to it.
Took the deer back to camp. It was obvious that the mild weather was going to mean a short hang for our deer. First deer season I can remember having mosquitos, black flies, and noseeums about all at once. Very mild.
We skinned and quartered that deer after a 24 hour hang. Then, I plopped the quarters into the camps freebie 18 cuft freezer.
The freezer was to be a big help, as the weather continued mild, and it rained off and on most every day.
The youngster in the group shot a fawn.
Never much liked shooting fawns, I've done it, nice meat, but I don't like it. Just a personal thing I guess.
Mike, known variously as 'bears**t' and other descriptive 'titles' had suffered through a deer drought of about twelve years. That ended this year.
We, that is Mike and I had gone out on a rainy day to sit and call on a run known as 'Huckleberry' He was sitting up on 'Geezer Hill' when we heard a dog chase turn our way.
I was further away from the chase than Mike, but I had my saftey off, it was that close. Suddenly I heard three shots, very close by, but not close enough to be Mike.
It seems that another camp was set up across the logging road from us and doing a chase. They were successfull. We soon heard the sounds of talking, as they hauled it out .
Both of us relaxed, and safeties were back on.
Suddenly there were three kaboom like shots followed quickly by a fourth. Mike was firing!
Nicely spaced, obviously aimed fire.
a few moments latter I heard the whistle. Mike was happy. Well, happy doesn't quite cover it. He wasn't yelling, but he said he almost did.
a nice fork horn lay at his feet, dead of buckshot and slug wounds at maybe 30 yards.
Mike says he watched is come out of the woods, just walking and not so calmly, waited until there was no way he could miss. (Mike has a habit of missing)
That was an easy drag.
Drove the Jeep up to within a few yards of the kill.
Deer weighed in at 110 lbs.
Mike also won a hidden weight prize of $50.
Second week proved to be a continuation of the first, warm, and rainy. Lots of guys spent their time in camp.
I went back to that 'top of the world watch a few times, and added a new spot, that had been cleared by logging on the same ridge.
It was at that new spot, that I was sitting, looking down on the tops of a few white pines that the loggers were not permitted to cut, that I got my second deer.
I had been sitting there calling, and silently cursing the amount of coffee I had drunk that morning. I stood to relieve myself again. Was about at full stream when a deer jumped off the cliff into space at my left. Being the intense sort of hunter that I am, I've had this happen before, and was prepared. My rifle was under my arm, and loaded but on safe. I was firing in seconds. Two shots from the scoped 88 Winchester in 308 was all I got before the running deer vanished.
As my apendage was still hanging out of my pants, I finished the 'job at hand', reloaded, and went down to check things out. I was fairly certain I had missed clean. Bounding deer at 100 yards are not easy targets. I went to where the deer had been running on the first shot. I found white hair. (Oh s**t, I've wounded it). then, i found a chunk of venison the size of a tennis ball. (OK deer cannot be far) I went to where the second shot should have hit. As I crested the rise, the deer, laying in the middle of the skidder trail raised his head. I ventilated it for him.
I blew the whistle, this was even further down the slope than the first one I shot. Looked like a hell of a drag.
I fired a shot, and blew the whistle again. My wife was close by, and i wanted her to experience gutting a deer, so she would know how when it came her turn.
I fired another shot, and blew the whistle again. This time I got a response.
My wife had no problems doing her first gutting job, and only complained that I needed to sharpen her knife.
Mike walked ahead and held the rope again until I got the deer to the cliff top, while my wife held the guns. Wasn't as bad as I thought. And, with little trouble I was able to take the Jeep up one of the trails and get pretty close to the top of the cliff. Give Mike a little credit, he did drag it that last hundred yards or so on level if log and slash covered ground.
