I had just sat down under a small spruce about fifty feet from where I thought the deer might come, when I faintly heard something moving through the thick brush. It was close, real close. It became very quiet. I felt if I moved I would be seen or heard. I could see nothing. I heard August in the distance.
August is an 82 year old Algonquin Indian. He slips through the woods like a shadow. Sometimes my gang and the Indians will do a chase together. August is the boss. Earlier we had met and planned the chase. August told his blockers and shooters where he wanted them to be and told me to cut off the end of the chase area. I usually chase as well but today August wanted me shooting. He was chasing with Garwood. August has a little beagle he has trained to take a fresh track a short way and then come back to him. August has a short bark, Garwood is more like an old coonhound. On a frosty morning you can hear him for miles.
The chase area is alongside a series of beaver ponds. It is a combination of old growth and some new growth from logging. I know the area well. We call it the “glory hole.” There is always deer in there, but even good dogs can’t get them out. The spruce is so thick in places that a person has to crawl. Really tough going. When August chases he will go back and forth. If anything is hiding in there August and his dog will likely move it.
For approximately 45 minutes I did not move. I had sat on a small pointy rock and my right leg was going numb. Even the wind was quiet. The only sound was Garwood’s howls and August’s bark, but I sensed something was there listening and watching. I never moved a muscle.
I recently bought a # 5 Lee Enfield (jungle carbine) for chasing as I cannot see through open iron sights too well anymore but can see through the peep type sight ok. The past few years I’ve been using a 44 cal Ruger which is nice and light for chasing. It’s got a low power wide angle scope and I like that gun, but for whatever reason that morning I picked up the Enfield. It has many scars and mysterious markings. The last time it likely saw action was many years ago in a foreign land. This very rifle was carried into battle by a soldier defending our freedom from oppression and I carry it with respect. I held up the Enfield and told the guys I was going to get one for the old guys. Naturally I got a bit of ribbing.
Garwood was getting close. He topped a ridge above me and let out a whoop. Then I heard a rustle. They were still there, and close. I saw something moving, then a beautiful doe stuck her head out of the brush. She looked to the right and her ears rotated. She looked to the left and directly at me. I fired as she jumped and I thought I could see the hair part where the bullet struck. I thought at the time “too far back and maybe low.” One more jump and she was gone and then another deer came out and ran directly at me. It was a year and a half old buck that was following the doe. He saw me and his eyes opened wide as he threw on the brakes. I fired into him and he dropped right there about twenty-five feet away. I then heard branches breaking from where the doe had run and I thought “that’s the doe going down.”
A few minutes later August and Garwood came to the shots and gave me the thumbs up upon seeing the buck. We waited for an hour or so and then followed the doe. There was some blood but not much. She was about a hundred feet in, shot through the lungs. Some of the other hunters had arrived while we were waiting and brought refreshments. August and Garwood gave tobacco and I held up the Enfield and made a toast “to the old guys.”
August is an 82 year old Algonquin Indian. He slips through the woods like a shadow. Sometimes my gang and the Indians will do a chase together. August is the boss. Earlier we had met and planned the chase. August told his blockers and shooters where he wanted them to be and told me to cut off the end of the chase area. I usually chase as well but today August wanted me shooting. He was chasing with Garwood. August has a little beagle he has trained to take a fresh track a short way and then come back to him. August has a short bark, Garwood is more like an old coonhound. On a frosty morning you can hear him for miles.
The chase area is alongside a series of beaver ponds. It is a combination of old growth and some new growth from logging. I know the area well. We call it the “glory hole.” There is always deer in there, but even good dogs can’t get them out. The spruce is so thick in places that a person has to crawl. Really tough going. When August chases he will go back and forth. If anything is hiding in there August and his dog will likely move it.
For approximately 45 minutes I did not move. I had sat on a small pointy rock and my right leg was going numb. Even the wind was quiet. The only sound was Garwood’s howls and August’s bark, but I sensed something was there listening and watching. I never moved a muscle.
I recently bought a # 5 Lee Enfield (jungle carbine) for chasing as I cannot see through open iron sights too well anymore but can see through the peep type sight ok. The past few years I’ve been using a 44 cal Ruger which is nice and light for chasing. It’s got a low power wide angle scope and I like that gun, but for whatever reason that morning I picked up the Enfield. It has many scars and mysterious markings. The last time it likely saw action was many years ago in a foreign land. This very rifle was carried into battle by a soldier defending our freedom from oppression and I carry it with respect. I held up the Enfield and told the guys I was going to get one for the old guys. Naturally I got a bit of ribbing.
Garwood was getting close. He topped a ridge above me and let out a whoop. Then I heard a rustle. They were still there, and close. I saw something moving, then a beautiful doe stuck her head out of the brush. She looked to the right and her ears rotated. She looked to the left and directly at me. I fired as she jumped and I thought I could see the hair part where the bullet struck. I thought at the time “too far back and maybe low.” One more jump and she was gone and then another deer came out and ran directly at me. It was a year and a half old buck that was following the doe. He saw me and his eyes opened wide as he threw on the brakes. I fired into him and he dropped right there about twenty-five feet away. I then heard branches breaking from where the doe had run and I thought “that’s the doe going down.”
A few minutes later August and Garwood came to the shots and gave me the thumbs up upon seeing the buck. We waited for an hour or so and then followed the doe. There was some blood but not much. She was about a hundred feet in, shot through the lungs. Some of the other hunters had arrived while we were waiting and brought refreshments. August and Garwood gave tobacco and I held up the Enfield and made a toast “to the old guys.”
My night just got better having read this.
