Several years ago, I was hunting West Virginia with my brother-in-law and his brothers. Dennis, one of the brothers, was the best woodsman of the lot, one of the best woodsmen i have ever met. An excellent shot and an even better stalker and tracker.
I was walking with him towards a hot lunch when we saw a deer sneaking along the hillside facing us. Dennis takes careful aim and shoots, dropping the animal. We walk over and Dennis leans his rifle against a tree while drawing his knife. He straddles the deer and raises one of its front legs to begin opening the abdomen. The deer jumps to its feet under Dennis and begins running and bucking in a small circle, trying to get Dennis off it's back. The shock of seeing Dennis riding this deer bareback, and his comical hooting and shouting while trying to get a grip on the deer and kill it with his knife kept me laughing long after the deer was dead. Dennis rode it for about 20-30 seconds and ended up stabbing it many times in the ribs, eventually killing it with the knife or giving the original bullet wound enough time to finish the job. The glares that he was giving me as I lay on the ground with tears streaming down my face were murderous, but only added to my mirth.
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Huntinbull
