Join Date: Jul 2008
Location: DAV, Deep in the Pineywoods of East Texas, just west of Shreveport, LA
Sometimes things just happen:
0200: It is well below freezing, in Blanchard, LA, as I straddle my motorcycle to head out to the deer camp about 100 miles away, south of Douberly, LA. The hard boot mounted to the front forks of my bike is empty, as I have loaned my .06 to my dad so he could hunt with it during the past week. However, I am armed with a .44 Mag., just in case dad doesn't make it this weekend. Should be getting my .06 back this morning for the deer hunt this week end. The bike I'm riding is a Dual Sport, no fairing, no windshield, running on semi-knobby tires. The only additions I have made is a rack on the back for hauling things, and the hard boot gun case form a four wheeler adapted to fit on my bike.
0400: I arrive at the deer camp, there are four vehicles already there. I know that my dad and the other hunters have spent the night there, and the lights are on. I dismount form the bike and enter the camp. I am immediately attacked from behind! I spin, to throw the attacker from my back, and we both go down, with me on top. The grip of the attacker loosens and I spring to my feet, not knowing what to expect! There to my surprise is my brother! It had been several years since I had seen him, and he had just got back form Viet Nam, and I was soon to learn, was recently discharged from the military. This was indeed a great day for me! I was going to get to spend the weekend with my brother and my dad, deer hunting. I reached for the zipper on my military field jacket and could not find it. There was a solid sheet of ice on the front of my jacket that I had to break to get to the zipper. We sat around for a while and drank coffee, fixed a little breakfast, and just visited.
0515: Visiting is over, and we all head out to our stands. My brother will be going with my dad, who has loaned him a gun to hunt with, and will be letting him use one of his stands. Dad did return to me my .06, and cautioned me that it was loaded. Once outside I opened the bolt enough to check it, and there was a live round in the chamber. My stand is located on a highline, about 100yds. from an old logging road. I ride down in the back of one of the other hunters trucks. There is a creek that crosses the high line where my stand is located, and I have been hunting this stand all season with no luck so far.
0615: The sun has come up, and visibility is not too good due to a fog that has settled into the depression where I'm hunting. I can see several ducks on the creek to my left, and a couple of rabbits, but no deer yet.
1100: I'm cold, hungry, and more than a little disappointed. I have seen ducks, rabbits, squirrels, a bob cat, and not a single deer! I know that some of the guys will be coming down the road in a little while, headed back to camp to eat. We had a large crock pot full of goat stew going, that had been on since last night, and I was ready for some. I had also decided to move my stand. I climbed down and placed my .06 against a tree, and took down my ladder stand. I carried it, and my .06 back up to the old logging road, and waited. It wasn't long till one of the guys came by and gave me lift back to the camp.
1200: I have decided to take my stand to a place I knew about on another creek. It was pretty grown up, and there would be shot over 30 yds. No one was headed in that direction, so I strapped the stand to the rack on the back of the motorcycle and pulled it to the place I wanted to hunt. I parked my bike on an old fire break, untied the ladder stand, and headed down into the bottom.
1245: I placed my stand against a likely looking tree, and climbed up into it. Standing on the seat, I could see that there was just too much cover where I was. I then moved the stand to another tree, and again got up in it. As I looked around I decided that this was about as good as it was going to get in this thicket. I use a turnbuckle to mount the homemade ladder stand to a tree, once it was mounted good and firm I climbed down, got my .06, and went back up. Standing there I could see that there were several limbs in my way, so I got out my knife and cut one away. I left enough limb to hang my .06 on, and did so. I was busy cutting away those limbs that I thought would get in my way, when I saw movement in the brush. I put my knife away, and as I reached for my .06, I saw a doe walking up out of the brush on the creek, headed right at me. I'm one of those hunters that like to put meat in the freezer, and since I had not killed a deer this year so far, a doe was just as good as any other deer at this point. As I slowly raised my rifle to my shoulder, a large spike came out of the brush behind the doe. I start thinking that if I do this right, I can take two deer and have something to share with the others. The doe is moving right at me, and a little to my right, and neither deer has any idea that I am there. As the spike gets to within about 25 feet of me, I settle the cross hairs on his neck, I ease off the safety, and gently squeeze the trigger. Nothing!! The gun doesn't fire, it didn't even click! My first thought is someone has been messing with my gun. I open the breach a little, and there is that live round. I ease it back into battery and try again. The doe is now past me on the right, and the spike is dead in front of me. Again I raise the gun to my shoulder, sight, and squeeze! Again nothing! At least now I know what is going on. It appeared that my dad had reloaded the gun to bring it back to camp. He had loaded a round into the chamber, but had not pulled the blot back for enough to cock the firing pin. There was only one thing to do! I slammed the bolt open, ejecting the live round that had been in the chamber, and loaded another. The spike froze in his tracks, the doe turned to run back the way she had come. This almost kept me from getting off that second shot at the second deer. I was concentrating on the spike, and I never had a chance to change my mind about which to take first. The doe was running, the spike was standing, she should have been my first shot. I shouldered the rifle, and shot the spike in the neck, wheeled and sighted on the doe who was just leaving the ground to jump a log. I fired as she hit the top of her jump, and saw the dust fly form just behind her right shoulder. I quickly checked the spike, he was down, no doubt. I got down and walked over to where I last saw the doe, and she was there on the other side of the log. It looked like she dropped in her tracks. As I gave thought to what had just happened, I realized that I should not have been able to shoot either of these deer, considering what had just taken place. I've been told that there are two kinds of deer hunters, those who just happen to be in the right place at the right time, and those who know how to be in the right place at the right time. I'm adding a third kind of hunter to the list, those who get just plain lucky! Today I was one of those, and I had know a few in my life before this. I field dressed both deer, and tied them behind the motorcycle. I then drug them out to the road, and waited for one of the other hunters to come along. I didn't want to drag them all the way back to camp down a dirt road. We got them both back to camp, and loaded into dad's truck. We then went to his house and butchered them both. Leaving about a fourth of meat with dad, and another fourth with my brother, I took half home with me, wrapped in plastic, and strapped to a piece of plywood on the luggage rack, on the back of that bike. Ya know, sometimes things just happen to a feller!
Y'all be safe now, ya hear!
Without God we have no moral compass. Without Family we have no purpose. Without Guns we can not defend either our religious choice, or our family! Millwright