Bittermansbro
CGN frequent flyer
- Location
- Calgary, AB
I have seen some other first deer and seasonal deer stories, so I hope everyone doesn't mind another one, but being that its my first, I am still quite stoked about it and wanted to share.
I am waiting for my pictures so I can post them, but I was using my Winchester 1886 in 45-70 made in 1893. I found real quickly that it’s heavy like a mofo, making it a real weight by the end of a long day in the bush.
Anyhow, I got my first deer with it yesterday morning at 10:45am from about 70 yards. I always hunt with old Winchesters, there is something about using a 100 year old gun to do what it's always done, just plain rewarding.
I and three of my buddies were about 3 clicks back into the brush in SW Alberta. I planted myself about 60-70 yard up in what we call the 'crossroads' a nice little plateau/valley between two ridges from which three valleys come up into, making it pretty much a game superhighway.
After I planted myself, my buddies took a ridge to each side of the valley opposite where we came in and started out along the ridge. The plan was for them to go down the ridges, about a kilometre or so, come down into the valley and sweep back up to the crossroads, hopefully pushing whatever up.
They are gone about 20 mins, I am wrapped up in a nice little blanket to keep the cool off, just put a hand warmer in one of my gloves and am thinking about grabbing some trail mix from my pack for a snack. Now normally I am pretty diligent about keeping an eye out so I can see something sooner rather than later. Well in this case it was Murphy’s law, I look up and see a Mule buck coming across from the trees out of the valley that my friends went down by the ridges. I start getting the shakes, kicking myself for not seeing him sooner. The 1886 is across my lap and the deer is straight down in front of me now, lollygagging through (I don't know what it is with muleys vs whitetails, muleys just seem to lollygag about while whitetail are all business). I lift the Winchester off my lap, raise it to my shoulder and take sight between a couple trees about six ft in front of the deer as its the first open space I can get through without brush in the way.
The muley saunters across, and as he comes between the two trees he stops. At this point there are two brains in my head, one is making all the decisions and calculations, aim, verification of game, backstop for the bullet etc etc, the other brain is like the couch potato watching a game on TV (he doesn't do anything, he's pretty useless and he has lots of critical comments and questions about what he's seeing, causing the main brain to second guess)
I won't have another shot I think, so I pull the trigger. The 116 year old '86 goes off, I don't even feel the recoil or realize I have racked another round in. The muley does little jump and bolts about 20 yards up the side of the crossroads where he stops, looking back. Of course where he stops there is a big tree blocking me from another shot. My radio crackles, my one friend asking what's going on. The rifle is shaking now, nothing worse than thinking you just wounded a deer, or wondering where you got him. I grab the radio, respond to hold on and shuffle over on my ass a couple feet to try and get another shot. No good, the deer bolts off and I lose sight of him. As he bolts into the bush, I notice he’s limping by one of his front legs, a little more confirmation I got him, but I am still wondering.
I answer the radio, give the update, my buds are already on their way back to me, my one friend tells me to hold off going after him till we gather and find a proper trail. They get back, looking both excited and concerned, and like a couple cops ask me to go through what happened. We walk down to where I took the shot, no blood. I walk them up to where he ran up, stopped and looked back at me. We start looking for a blood trail, wandering into the bush where I lost sight of him looking for any trace. I know my one bud is thinking, how could you miss a 70 yard shot....the couch potato in my head agrees. Now I am envisioning a 4 hour tracking of a wounded deer, not enjoyable and very bad for me.
As I am circling through the bush a little more I look up at my other buddy who is still standing in the clear and as we make eye contact, he looks between us and sees the buck, dead in between us by a little sapling. It’s funny how they blend in so quick when they're down.
He only ended up running about 50 yards all told, if I had of been able to see him take off without the trees in the way, I would have seen him drop. Oh well, everything turned out. Now I am just excited, still got a bit of the shakes, but more for the successful completion than anything.
The 350gr LRN 45-70 entered his torso about 6 in behind the back right leg, crossed at an angle through his lungs, the top of his heart and then out just behind his left leg. Good job old Winchester!
I had my first experience doing the dirty deed after this, red up to my elbows and with a funny grimace I couldn't get off my face. It was a 3 km hike out of the bush with the muley, weighed him in at the butcher dressed at 110lbs.
I am already looking forward to next year!
I am waiting for my pictures so I can post them, but I was using my Winchester 1886 in 45-70 made in 1893. I found real quickly that it’s heavy like a mofo, making it a real weight by the end of a long day in the bush.
Anyhow, I got my first deer with it yesterday morning at 10:45am from about 70 yards. I always hunt with old Winchesters, there is something about using a 100 year old gun to do what it's always done, just plain rewarding.
I and three of my buddies were about 3 clicks back into the brush in SW Alberta. I planted myself about 60-70 yard up in what we call the 'crossroads' a nice little plateau/valley between two ridges from which three valleys come up into, making it pretty much a game superhighway.
After I planted myself, my buddies took a ridge to each side of the valley opposite where we came in and started out along the ridge. The plan was for them to go down the ridges, about a kilometre or so, come down into the valley and sweep back up to the crossroads, hopefully pushing whatever up.
They are gone about 20 mins, I am wrapped up in a nice little blanket to keep the cool off, just put a hand warmer in one of my gloves and am thinking about grabbing some trail mix from my pack for a snack. Now normally I am pretty diligent about keeping an eye out so I can see something sooner rather than later. Well in this case it was Murphy’s law, I look up and see a Mule buck coming across from the trees out of the valley that my friends went down by the ridges. I start getting the shakes, kicking myself for not seeing him sooner. The 1886 is across my lap and the deer is straight down in front of me now, lollygagging through (I don't know what it is with muleys vs whitetails, muleys just seem to lollygag about while whitetail are all business). I lift the Winchester off my lap, raise it to my shoulder and take sight between a couple trees about six ft in front of the deer as its the first open space I can get through without brush in the way.
The muley saunters across, and as he comes between the two trees he stops. At this point there are two brains in my head, one is making all the decisions and calculations, aim, verification of game, backstop for the bullet etc etc, the other brain is like the couch potato watching a game on TV (he doesn't do anything, he's pretty useless and he has lots of critical comments and questions about what he's seeing, causing the main brain to second guess)
I won't have another shot I think, so I pull the trigger. The 116 year old '86 goes off, I don't even feel the recoil or realize I have racked another round in. The muley does little jump and bolts about 20 yards up the side of the crossroads where he stops, looking back. Of course where he stops there is a big tree blocking me from another shot. My radio crackles, my one friend asking what's going on. The rifle is shaking now, nothing worse than thinking you just wounded a deer, or wondering where you got him. I grab the radio, respond to hold on and shuffle over on my ass a couple feet to try and get another shot. No good, the deer bolts off and I lose sight of him. As he bolts into the bush, I notice he’s limping by one of his front legs, a little more confirmation I got him, but I am still wondering.
I answer the radio, give the update, my buds are already on their way back to me, my one friend tells me to hold off going after him till we gather and find a proper trail. They get back, looking both excited and concerned, and like a couple cops ask me to go through what happened. We walk down to where I took the shot, no blood. I walk them up to where he ran up, stopped and looked back at me. We start looking for a blood trail, wandering into the bush where I lost sight of him looking for any trace. I know my one bud is thinking, how could you miss a 70 yard shot....the couch potato in my head agrees. Now I am envisioning a 4 hour tracking of a wounded deer, not enjoyable and very bad for me.
As I am circling through the bush a little more I look up at my other buddy who is still standing in the clear and as we make eye contact, he looks between us and sees the buck, dead in between us by a little sapling. It’s funny how they blend in so quick when they're down.
He only ended up running about 50 yards all told, if I had of been able to see him take off without the trees in the way, I would have seen him drop. Oh well, everything turned out. Now I am just excited, still got a bit of the shakes, but more for the successful completion than anything.
The 350gr LRN 45-70 entered his torso about 6 in behind the back right leg, crossed at an angle through his lungs, the top of his heart and then out just behind his left leg. Good job old Winchester!
I had my first experience doing the dirty deed after this, red up to my elbows and with a funny grimace I couldn't get off my face. It was a 3 km hike out of the bush with the muley, weighed him in at the butcher dressed at 110lbs.
I am already looking forward to next year!
