I met a fellow at family camp in Northern Ontario just over a year ago and he invited me to check out the deer hunting on Manitoulin Island where he lives. So, Friday afternoon, I loaded up the old '97 Suburban and made the eight hour drive. It is a large island along the north shore of Lake Huron.
Since the deer season didn't start until Monday, we launched his boat to go after some big Lake Huron Rainbow Trout, but there was a brisk North wind blowing and the rollers were so large, we had to turn back. We loaded up the boat and launched it again, but this time in an inland lake on the island. It was dadgummed cold, with the temperature just above freezing and that North wind keeping us extra cool. There was no one else crazy enough to be sport fishing that day so we had the lake to ourselves. I managed to catch one Walleye and the other fellow caught one the same size. Here's a photo of mine, a 29 incher .......
Sunday we went to a church on the Ojibway Wikwemikong reservation. It was my kind of service .... very informal, with the pastor sitting on a stool at the front giving a very good teaching and the people interrupting the pastor from time to time to ask questions. I really enjoyed the informal way they had church and the people seemed to all know each other and care for one another. It was kind of like a big family. I wish a lot more churches were like that. The rest of the day we loafed around, which I don't get to do very often.
Monday morning I hauled myself out of bed at 5:00 am. Just between you and me, I never enjoy getting out of the sack at that unearthly hour, but for deer hunting or fishing, I'll do it voluntarily. By 5:30 we were loading the truck and heading out into the darkness. It was quite a bit below freezing, with a bit of snow giving the ground a dusting. My friend dropped me off at my location, along the edge of a hayfield, and continued on to another place about 300 yards away in the bush. Between trying to stay awake and trying to stay warm with that doggone North wind getting brisker by the day, the time slowly passed. Suddenly, around 9:00 am, I saw a buck making its way toward me from the far corner of the hayfield. The wind was blowing from behind me not directly at the buck, but at a shallow angle from him and I knew he'd smell me sooner or later. I eased the hammer back to full #### and watched him through my Lyman receiver sight as he got nearer. Finally, at 61 yards away (measured later), he stopped and looked at me for a couple seconds and then looked back over his shoulder. I figured I'd better make my move. He was pretty much square on to me, with his head still looking back. I aimed for his chest and squeezed the trigger of Old Savage, my Winchester Model 94 30-30 that was made in 1954. The buck went down on the spot.
I'd forgotten my camera back at the house, so I had to use my iPhone to take a few photos. They aren't the greatest, but you get the picture .....
We went back to my friend's place about mid day and I cleaned and skinned out the eight-point buck. The 150 grain cast RCBS bullet over 25 grains of RL-7 powder had entered the chest, crossed over and stopped under the skin about half way back. Here's a photo of the recovered bullet ....
The bullet was going about 2,220 fps when it left the muzzle. The expanded bullet weighed 133 grains, so it lost about 17 grains, counting the gas check.
2:30 in the afternoon found me back at the edge of the same hayfield and my friend back at his post further in the bush. There was the usual temptation to nod off (I get very relaxed in the bush .... kinda like home for me) then with less than a half hour of available light left, I spotted another buck moving at a fast walk along the far edge of the hayfield next to the bush. When he got directly opposite me, he showed no sign of stopping, so I let Old Savage rip once again at a later measured range of 82 yards. The buck took off like there was a pack of howling Banshees on its tail. It cranked a tight 360 degree circle so fast that as it tore around the curve, its body was 45 degrees to the ground. Then it straightened out and tore into the bush at top speed. However, I had seen a rosy patch when he straightened out, on what was the side facing away from me when I shot, so figured the bullet had gone right through both lungs. Sure enough, there were spots of blood on the grass. I radioed my friend that I'd connected with a buck and then began to track the spots of blood on various leaves and trees. It was getting dark, by now, but fortunately, I had one of those fancy head lamps and was still able to pick out spots of blood from time to time. When I couldn't find any, I'd make an educated guess about 20 feet ahead and, sure enough, there was some more blood spots on branches or leaves. About 100 yards from where he'd been hit I found him. Deader than a doornail. This buck also had a small eight point rack and was a little heavier than the first one. Upon cleaning and skinning him this evening, I saw that the bullet had gone through both lungs, just forward of the diaphram. This time I had my normal camera; here's a couple photos .....
Today I headed back home with two bucks in the back of the old Suburban. Two bullets, two eight-point bucks. I have to confess, though, that I had fired off between 200 and 300 rounds practicing for a couple months before hunting season, so I guess, strictly speaking, it wasn't really two bullets. Good thing I reload with cast bullets (cheap like Borscht). I had a great time practicing with this little 30-30 carbine and an even better time this weekend, harvesting those two Whitetail deer.
Since the deer season didn't start until Monday, we launched his boat to go after some big Lake Huron Rainbow Trout, but there was a brisk North wind blowing and the rollers were so large, we had to turn back. We loaded up the boat and launched it again, but this time in an inland lake on the island. It was dadgummed cold, with the temperature just above freezing and that North wind keeping us extra cool. There was no one else crazy enough to be sport fishing that day so we had the lake to ourselves. I managed to catch one Walleye and the other fellow caught one the same size. Here's a photo of mine, a 29 incher .......
Sunday we went to a church on the Ojibway Wikwemikong reservation. It was my kind of service .... very informal, with the pastor sitting on a stool at the front giving a very good teaching and the people interrupting the pastor from time to time to ask questions. I really enjoyed the informal way they had church and the people seemed to all know each other and care for one another. It was kind of like a big family. I wish a lot more churches were like that. The rest of the day we loafed around, which I don't get to do very often.
Monday morning I hauled myself out of bed at 5:00 am. Just between you and me, I never enjoy getting out of the sack at that unearthly hour, but for deer hunting or fishing, I'll do it voluntarily. By 5:30 we were loading the truck and heading out into the darkness. It was quite a bit below freezing, with a bit of snow giving the ground a dusting. My friend dropped me off at my location, along the edge of a hayfield, and continued on to another place about 300 yards away in the bush. Between trying to stay awake and trying to stay warm with that doggone North wind getting brisker by the day, the time slowly passed. Suddenly, around 9:00 am, I saw a buck making its way toward me from the far corner of the hayfield. The wind was blowing from behind me not directly at the buck, but at a shallow angle from him and I knew he'd smell me sooner or later. I eased the hammer back to full #### and watched him through my Lyman receiver sight as he got nearer. Finally, at 61 yards away (measured later), he stopped and looked at me for a couple seconds and then looked back over his shoulder. I figured I'd better make my move. He was pretty much square on to me, with his head still looking back. I aimed for his chest and squeezed the trigger of Old Savage, my Winchester Model 94 30-30 that was made in 1954. The buck went down on the spot.
I'd forgotten my camera back at the house, so I had to use my iPhone to take a few photos. They aren't the greatest, but you get the picture .....
We went back to my friend's place about mid day and I cleaned and skinned out the eight-point buck. The 150 grain cast RCBS bullet over 25 grains of RL-7 powder had entered the chest, crossed over and stopped under the skin about half way back. Here's a photo of the recovered bullet ....
The bullet was going about 2,220 fps when it left the muzzle. The expanded bullet weighed 133 grains, so it lost about 17 grains, counting the gas check.
2:30 in the afternoon found me back at the edge of the same hayfield and my friend back at his post further in the bush. There was the usual temptation to nod off (I get very relaxed in the bush .... kinda like home for me) then with less than a half hour of available light left, I spotted another buck moving at a fast walk along the far edge of the hayfield next to the bush. When he got directly opposite me, he showed no sign of stopping, so I let Old Savage rip once again at a later measured range of 82 yards. The buck took off like there was a pack of howling Banshees on its tail. It cranked a tight 360 degree circle so fast that as it tore around the curve, its body was 45 degrees to the ground. Then it straightened out and tore into the bush at top speed. However, I had seen a rosy patch when he straightened out, on what was the side facing away from me when I shot, so figured the bullet had gone right through both lungs. Sure enough, there were spots of blood on the grass. I radioed my friend that I'd connected with a buck and then began to track the spots of blood on various leaves and trees. It was getting dark, by now, but fortunately, I had one of those fancy head lamps and was still able to pick out spots of blood from time to time. When I couldn't find any, I'd make an educated guess about 20 feet ahead and, sure enough, there was some more blood spots on branches or leaves. About 100 yards from where he'd been hit I found him. Deader than a doornail. This buck also had a small eight point rack and was a little heavier than the first one. Upon cleaning and skinning him this evening, I saw that the bullet had gone through both lungs, just forward of the diaphram. This time I had my normal camera; here's a couple photos .....
Today I headed back home with two bucks in the back of the old Suburban. Two bullets, two eight-point bucks. I have to confess, though, that I had fired off between 200 and 300 rounds practicing for a couple months before hunting season, so I guess, strictly speaking, it wasn't really two bullets. Good thing I reload with cast bullets (cheap like Borscht). I had a great time practicing with this little 30-30 carbine and an even better time this weekend, harvesting those two Whitetail deer.
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