Fortunately or unfortunately this is not really my story to tell, as it happened to my grandfather. Since he has been in the happy hunting ground now for a good many years, I guess he won't mind if I tell the story for him.
My uncle had just bought a new place and encouraged my grandfather to go deer hunting on it. It was 70 acres of mostly fields but with a swath of brush on one end of the place just north of about a 1-acre tank (pond to you Yankees). Grandaddy decided to take his tried and true Winchester M94 30-30 and stake out the tank from the cover of some small bushes atop the tank dam overlooking the tank and the entire brush line where it met the open field.
About 3 p.m. a very nice eight-point buck with long tines and a good spread ambled out of the brush through the 30 yards or so of knee-deep grass to get a drink at the edge of the tank. Grandaddy bore down with his 30-30 when the buck turned broadside for a moment after taking a drink. The distance was about 40 yards, and Grandaddy and his iron-sighted 30-30 had waylaid several bucks over the years at ranges much longer than that.
At the shot, the buck dropped like a rock into the knee-deep grass near the edge of the tank. Grandaddy reloaded quickly and waited to see if the buck would get up. He couldn't quite see the deer, but he knew exactly where it fell and had a clear view of the area, which was nothing but grass all the way 30 yards back to the brush. Grandaddy never saw anything get up or move through the grass, so after a few minutes he slowly got up and walked over to where the buck was laying in the grass to confirm his kill.
In the exact spot where the buck had stood, there was nothing but grass. There was no bent-over or matted-down grass, no blood, no hair, and of course, no deer! Grandaddy searched the grass left and right for 50 yards either way, never finding a sign of any deer, wounded or not. It seemed as thought the buck simply disappeared.
Grandaddy went back to the house and enlisted my uncle to help him search for the deer, as there was plenty of bright sunny daylight left for the day. They both searched high, low, back, and forth for nearly an hour, and never found a hint of a deer.
Even if the deer had crawled away through the grass, he would have had to leave a trail of bent-down grass. If he had gotten up, Grandaddy would have surely seen him. To this day we still call him the ghost buck, because he simply vanished into thin air!
