I'm back, with a freezer full of meat. (graphic photos)
Well, after a long trip up to the hunt camp, and having to wait till Monday becasue there's no Sunday hunt in my WMU, we finally headed out after breakfast.
I got on point at the top of a ridge about 8 am, with my hunting partner moving slowly down the hill to take a position on the ridge on the far side of the valley.
Halfway up the far side, he comes across 2 doe's in a bedding area. They jump, scaring him as much as he scared them. As they run down the hill, and out of site, he tries to swing his 30-06 to get a shot, but can't as the trees are too heavy and he the barrel hits trunks.
Grumbleing his displeasure on the 2-way, he trips over a small buck that darts down the hill, right into my line of sight.
My Winchester 94 sounds twice, and through the scope I see a small puff of fur. I walk down to where I saw the hit, and follow the blood trail for about 40 yards through some tangles before I come across my dinner.
(It looks small, but it hangs at 120Lbs.)
First deer tagged at 9:00 am Monday morning.
A quick field clean, and we take him back to the camp to hang.
A quick wash, grab some lunch, and back out we go. We know a small hill that produces later in the afternoon, and by the time we get there Monday afternoon, the clouds are over us, the canopy is darkened, and it's raining heavily with a biting westerly wind. I opt to sit, curlng up in a small depression at the base of a tree to stay warm and out of the wind. My hunting partner decides to go on a walk about, hoping to stir up some big deer. I've never seen anything too big here, but he's hunted here for a long time and swears that there's some 6 pointers around.
Lying in the dirt under a tree for an hour doesn't do much for one's morale, and as I'm thinking of the warm fire back at the hunt camp, and how it'll take the chill off my old bones, my partner radios that he's walked full circle around the hill, and is coming from my east. If I see anything, to be carefull that it's not wearing orange!
The wind picks up, and I curl up inside my jacket to stay warm. I've traded my Winnie 94 for my Remington 870 with a rifled barrel and a pocket full of Winchester slugs. I use my shirt to wipe the nearly frozen rain off my Bushnell Red Dot. As I zip up my coat, I hear a rustleing from the north. I roll over to see 2 deer run behind a tree into my blind spot. I roll the other way against the dirt knoll I'm lying against, lay the shotgun across it, take steady aim through the Red Dot, and fire away at the larger of the two running deer.
WOW, I've never used a slug gun on a deer before. It's amazing how effective they can be at 50 yards or less!
I see the now familliar puff of furr, and the deer ducks behind a tree. I keep the shotgun aimed in that direction for what seems like hours, but the animal doesn't show again. I see my hunting partner walk out from behind the far side of the hill about 75 years away. I call him quietly on the radio, and ask him to make a bee-line toward me to see if he can spot the deer. He nears the tree that I saw the deer fall behind, and he gives me the "thumbs up" that he's got it. He pulls out his tag and his knife to start the process.
(sorry it's so dark, it's a crappy point and shoot and I didn't use the flash).
Second deer tagged at 3:30 pm Monday afternoon!
Here we are with the 2 Junior bucks hanging
Tuesday morning was spent skinning the 2 deer.
...and off we went on Tuesday afternoon to the butcher shop. We actually went to 3 butcher shops, none of whom had any space in their freezer, even for the small animals we took. It's been a bumper year, so the "smart" hunters took the first week, and got their meat in early!.
So, not wanting to waste the animals, we decided to take it upon ourselves to process our own meat. I never realized how intimidating this was, but after spending ALL day Thursday at this,
I now have a freezer full of dinner meats, and have a new respect for the sport of hunting.
