I finally got a deer this morning through no great shooting of my own. I took a shot at buck chasing a doe through the brush along a ridge this morning and when I got to the right place could see no sign of a hit. Just to be sure I went to the base of the ridge ad walked along a trail there. On this trail just below where I shot at he buck I found some blood. There wasn't a lot of blood but enough that I was able to trail the deer several hundred yards until the trail went into the Huzzah Creek. I called some people I knew on the other side of the creek and I an their son walked the banks for several hours but could not pick up the trail. By that time my old legs were shot and we gave up the hunt. Then about four the grandfather pulls up in his truck and says that they found my deer hiding in some brush not far from where we looked that morning. His son, father to the man that helped me in the morning, had walked the creek until he had found the wounded deer and had put it down. When I got there he had the deer gutted and waiting for me. Steve is the man and the rest of his family aren't bad either.
Turned out to be nice eight point buck just about the same size as the one I got there last year. I felt pretty good about the buck until I got to the processing plant where this moose size buck was laying on the floor. I'm not complaining mind you but...
RJ
