It has been since 2014, but my Savage 99 kept its promise this morning. I’ve been carrying it up into the stand for The Rifle Opener since 2003. The Savage 99 in 308 WIN has only been shot at the biggest bucks. I always put it away after filling my buck tag. This morning, the Savage spoke again.

You have to understand this was a pretty big thing. I was dealing with existential problems back over the summer. I even got to ask the surgeon that question you don’t want to ask: Will I be able to be in my treestand on The Opener? The surgeon assured me it was almost a sure deal. I have to say, I was not in the best of shape this morning, but I am fully recovered. At this point, the surgeon says the cancer is gone. All my blood tests are looking good. The surgery just put me in a bit of a hole. I still made it out. I still made it up the ladder at Campground. I was ready when daylight came.

This was not the best of mornings. Everybody on the Shamanic Dream Team saw deer this morning, but the good shots were not presenting themselves. The neighbors were not seeing much either. I counted about a third of the shots we usually hear.  It has been a fairly active rut this year, but there was quite a bit of wind this morning, and that kept the deer subdued.

I had the most activity of anyone.  The deer were not quite ready to get into that full-on chase mode.  Bucks were trailing does at a distance.  The doe was doing their best to avoid them.  I had a fairly constant parade of unrequited love from first light onward.  A doe would show up in the creek bottom below the Campground stand and wander up the ravine.  A few minutes later a buck would saunter up the same path.  At one point, a fairly well-developed 6 pointer made his way up to within 30 yards of the stand.  He had lost the trail of the doe and was sniffing about, trying to reconnect.  I knew there was better to be had.  I let him walk.

It was 35F with a bit of a breeze coming from the west. It was 0847. The neighbors had been shooting in brief flurries all morning.   I had been hunting for exactly two hours and probably seen 6 or 7 deer.  A doe came bounding up out of the bottoms, stopped, looked behind her, and bounded on.  That is when I saw him.  He was at least an 8-pointer, and the antlers looked significant. I stood up and got the Savage 99 braced to the tree and waited.  He finally presented himself broadside at about 80 yards.  I took the shot.

Something was up.  The buck just bounded off.  At first, I thought I had miffed it.  However, he pound up the creek, jumped to the far bank and started climbing out of the ravine.  I lost sight of him.  I then heard a series of crashes, with a pause and then finally one last loud crash and then silence.

The doe he had been trailing came back and surveilled the scene on the other side of the creek and then promptly skedaddled.  I unloaded the rifle and sent it and my outer clothes down the rope to the ground.  I then went down to where I figured I hit him. The ravine flattens out a bit before the creek, and it was on this little flat that I saw the first splat of blood.  There were several holes in the leaves, where he had landed as he lept, staggered a bit, and then caught himself.  In the short distance to the creek, I found several more blood splatters and then a tear in mud on the far side of the creek where he had crossed. 

At least he was leaving me a good trail.  Frankly, I drop so many deer right at the stand, that I do not have a whole lot of practice in trailing wounded deer.  Up until a few years ago, I also had Lily the Wonder Beagle.  If I took her out and pointed at the spot where I shot the deer, I could say “Dead deer!”  Lily would tear off through the woods and be standing over the carcass in a few minutes.  The blood spatters were thankfully big enough that I never got waylaid. 

It was about this time that my 63 years on this planet and my recent surgery began to take their toll.  I’m back to being pretty fit, but I have not had an opportunity to get back into full condition yet.  I’ve had a right knee that plays tricks on me once in a while.  It decided as I went up the opposite slope away from the creek to play one.  It went out.  I took a bit of a tumble, and it made me wince when I tried to put weight on it again.  Things were getting interesting.

Eventually, the buck’s trail flattened out. This was where I had heard the crashing.  I was about 50 yards up from the creek by now.  There was another big divot in the leaves and then. . . nothing.  I looked around for the next blood spatter and there was nothing close.  I had wandered around in about a 10-yard circle when I looked down towards the creek.

The buck had tumbled off the side of the ravine and landed near the lip of the creek bed.  There was some deadfall limbs that caught him and he brought several of them down with him.  His right antler was pinned under one.  He had thrashed a bit in the leaves and expired.

The shot must have caromed off a sapling or something. I had aimed for a high-shoulder shot. The shot had entered his neck at an angle and exited through the off-side forelimb, taking one lung with it.   That would have explained the expansive blood trail.  I left my orange bibs hanging by the carcass and started to climb out.

I called into the Dream Team.  By now it was getting close to 1000. Moose walked the 400 yards from Lazy Boy.  SuperCore came with his ATV.  Meanwhile, I was slowly angling up from the creek with my wonky knee.  We all met up at the picnic table

Remnar and Angus came in and got the truck.  Moose road the ATV down the creek on the other side and managed to get the deer roped to the back and started slowly climbing the rig back out.  Within a half-hour or we all met back at the campground, and we got the buck loaded in the back of the truck. After cleaning, gutting, and pictures, we adjourned to Lenoxburg and dropped the bug guy off at the processor before enjoying lunch. Thanks, SuperCore.

A good time was had by all.  It really helps when you have a great bunch of guys all working together.  Everyone is back out for the evening hunt.  I’m taking the night off with my knee up and a good dose of Ibuprofen to go with the scotch.

This post has already been read 3647 times!

Views: 39