Conference vmsnet::hunting$note:hunting

Date 25-Oct-90
Time 09:30 hours
Sex - Buck
Rack - 7 point
Weight - 185lbs, before dressing
Number of shots - read on

Well here I am in the northern zone of South Carolina, its a somewhat 
clear chilly morning, with a 20% chance of rain this afternoon.  I have 
dawned some heavier clothing since it seems to be getting colder each 
morning.  Its now 0600 hours, and I'm off to the thick bush, its about 1/4 
of a mile from the camp to the stand, but its a tough 1/4 mile.  Its been 
raining heavily on and off for the past couple of days, and the truck is 
having a heck of a time getting to my reserved parking space.  Once there 
I venture out on foot for another two hundred yards of wet field and forge 
a swollen creek then a small hill and into the stand I go.

The stand, 2"*4" construction, is about 10 feet high, has about an 18 inch 
seating platform on it.  Getting all settled in, I then realize that I had 
left the coffee back at the camp, but its getting late (0615 hours) and I 
need to let things normalize, so no coffee this morning.  Day light comes 
poking through the trees as usual, and shortly after the wind stats kicking 
up.  The type of wind that goes through a person, the cold steel on my .444 
starts to feel like an ice cube.  Never fear, so on go the warm nice 
thickly insulated ski (these are the Polish version) gloves, these are great 
gloves.  The hands warm up in no time, as I grasp my rifle getting in the 
ready position, I find that only two of my three fingers will fit in the 
loop of my lever action.  But what the heck the trigger finger fits well and 
the feel is not bad at all considering the amount of padding etc...finally 
settled in and ready to go.  All is quiet and nature is normal again.  Now 
the rain starts up, first its a gentle sprinkle, then it intensifies.  Out 
comes the poncho over the head and naturally over my .444, and still the 
keeps coming down.  Well I figured at this point the deer traffic would be 
nil, so what am I doing out here getting both me and my gun wet, my feet 
are colder that a witches something or another, and I am darn cold.   Now 
folks the area being hunted is very thickly wooded, there are some corridor 
shots available, but they are directly behind me.  To the front and side is 
a whole lot of trees, leaves etc. and a holler lies further out. 

From behind a bush, off my left, comes a doe as she draws closer I attempt 
to get the rifle out from under the poncho.  Now the rifle was laying at a 
ninety degree angle across my lap.  Drawing it out with my right hand, the 
doe starts to flag me, I stop, the flag goes down.  She starts walking a 
little quicker, at this point its an all or nothing situation.  Grabbing 
the the rifle with the left hand at the fore grip I push it straight away 
from myself; while with the right hand in semi-circular motion comes from 
under and goes over the poncho allowing the rifle to see daylight.  
Grabbing the receiver section with the right hand attempted to take aim, 
during all this the hammer is back in ready position.  Now this doe decided 
she was going to high tail it and she took off, like a bullet, she went to my 
right and then veered to the left and down in to the holler she went.  I 
managed to get a bead on the hind quarter but not enough for a clean shot, 
man what a decision, she disappears into the bush.  Here it is the nineth 
day, with three previously not taken opportunities should I nave really let 
this one go?  Yep, I did, still haven't figured out why really, oh well.  
Now its over and the wait will have to start all over, hell there was enough 
noise out there to scare everything in the area away, well so I thought.  
Getting positioned on the stand I started to bring the poncho back over the 
legs, then from the corner of my eye, yes it only from one eye, to the left 
I see a rack in the bush. One step more and the head becomes visible.  Now 
this buck knew something was going down, but wasn't quite sure what.  He 
stopped and looked off to his left, then straight ahead.  The only thing I 
can figure out is that the path they had come down was winding, and it was 
pretty thick.  As a result during all the previous activity he just didn't 
see the doe take off.  By the way in passing, at this point I was no longer 
cold boy I was almost ready to break into a sweat, all the juices flowing.  
When I spied the buck I ceased all activity, and just sat.  Now the left 
hand was on the fore grip and the right hand was hold the poncho, the rifle 
was on a horizontal plane about three quarters arm length away, in the front. 
The buck started up again, getting closer and closer as it started to cross 
in front of me I let go of the poncho grabbed the rifle and tried to get a 
bead on it. The 1st shot was either over the front shoulders or in front of 
the chest area, led him to much. The rifle slides up the poncho, have to get 
another round in the pipe start to work the action.  Trying to reposition the 
rifle and work the lever and watch the buck go became a challenge.  Well the 
pinkie finger got caught between the stock and the lever and I attempted to 
close the lever using just a little more pressure, why remove the finger 
that's doing it the easy way, this brings the scope into the nose causing 
a 3/8" cut across it, which by the way wasn't discovered till latter that 
night.  Now the buck has taken off to my right then turning right, now I 
know how hunters fall out of stands in the heat of it all. This buck headed 
up the same path that a few days earlier four doe came up, and I decided that
I couldn't turn around on the stand enough to get a clear shot.  Swung around 
got him in my scope, windage line, falls across the head, next the elevation 
line cross the head, pull trigger.  Recoil sends the rifle up and now with a 
little more grace I attempt to rack it and get a fresh round in the pipe.  
Bringing the rifle back to aim point the buck is gone, and dam the rifle has 
jammed this I don't believe it, I keep this thing oiled, clean, warm bed at 
night etc..  Well as it turns out all the shaking after the first shot 
scenario caused the bullet to rock in the receiver quite a bit. As the bullet 
entered the chamber it must have gone in on a slant and shaved off a bit of 
lead and lodged in the groove the extractor needs to seat in order to pull 
the empty case out.  Well now things are, things nothing I am really up tight.
First I can't figure out how I missed on the second shot and my rifle is 
jammed.  Still dwelling on the buck, pulled out the G.I. can opener, never 
thought of the buck knife,  that would have made life too easy, and started 
to clear away the lead.  Now this operation took about fifteen maybe twenty 
minutes, its still raining getting water in and on the rifle, this is not 
one those better days.  Well still somewhat puzzled by the miss, I got down 
from the stand to retrieve by spent brass and go check for some blood.  
Walking over to the spot there it was, boy what a sight, it was really 
something.  What really amazed me was the impact that .444 delivered.  The 
bullet entered about mid-snout right side and came out about mid-neck left 
side, turning the buck 180 degrees, so that it was facing the stand.  

Getting it out of the woods was somewhat of a chore, we don't field dress 
and besides I utilize as much as possible from the deer including the hide. 
I dragged it up to the creek, and then tried to heft it on my back, now 
folks this is when I became aware of how heavy this dude was.  I wasn't 
about to drag it across the creek and get it wet etc.. So I decided to 
carry it across in my arms like carrying a baby.  Now in retrospect, I 
don't know if I would do that again, should have seen the ticks on that 
deer, never even gave that any thought at the time.

Well this is my little adventure on my first buck.  I hope that in reading 
this you may get some enjoyment out of my experience.

Cheers
Leonard

  Why don't you field dress? You can put the organs in a handy Ziploc and 
you dont lose any hide. About the creek whats wrong with getting a deer wet
hes already wet from the rain and if dressed the cool water will help with 
preserving the meat. Unless the waters polluted.

    
    re .2
    
    Organs in a ziploc, son we shoot big deer down here, they'll fill a
    large five pound container.
    
    Field dressing is strictly forbidden on the hunting grounds, which I
    agree with.
    
    The waters not polluted, just didn't want to have to clean off all the
    mud etc.. once across the creek.  The drive to the camp is only about
    10 minutes and the tempature was cool, so meat preservation was not an
    immediate concern.
    
    Cheers
    Leonard
    

    We all know the record makers are from Vermont, NH and Maine by the way 
they make gallon size Ziplocs, you can fit a beef heart in those.

    

Congratulations: 185 lbs is a nice buck

    
    
    
    
    Yes congrats, 185 is a nice buck! Just one thing though, Do us all a
    favor and most importantly yourself a favor.
    
    , Don't carry anymore deer over your shoulder or in your arms.
    
    We all enjoy hearing from you, let's keep it that way!
    
    
    Rick
    

    When I was a youngster, my dad and I took a small buck on my
    first hunt. I shot first, and then my dad shot it again,
    and then I finished it off. Well, the rest of our group came
    out and watched as I got coached in dressing a deer. My dad
    nearly cuffed me upside the head when I went to put that deer
    up on my back, cross the stream we were by, and carry it out to
    the road. In the excitement of it all I didn't realize how easy
    it would be to mistake that for a live deer. It's a real good
    way to get shot. Always drag....
    
    Congratulations on a nice buck !
    
    Marty

    
    In the hunter safety course I took several years ago they stressed
    that you should never carry a deer. There was also a shoot/don't shoot
    portion of the class when they showed a movie segment and you had to 
    pick your shots, one of them was a guy carrying a deer on his shoulders
    through some brush, looked exactly like a live deer until he cleared
    the brush.
    
    --Bob
    

>    Field dressing is strictly forbidden on the hunting grounds, which I
>    agree with.

 Why? What's the problem with field dressing on the spot? That's what I intend
to do if I happen to get a deer.

 The Doctah

PS- What note do I look in for field dressing tips? Or should I start a new one?

    
    I went to NC last year to a hunting camp. They don't field dress
    either. I asked why and the answer was 2 part:
    
    1) They don't believe it is necessary since they gut, skin and quarter
       the animal when you get back to the lodge (2 times a day)
    
    2) If they did field dress there would be lots of gut piles laying 
       around.
    
    They did say that if you insisted on field dressing let them know, they
    would bring in a bucket and do it in the field for you.
    
    --Bob
    

    
    Firstly, after publicly giving my ideas (some notes up about the need 
    for hunter training course) I will have to eat some crow on this.  Each 
    of you are 100% right about carrying the deer in any manner.  No need for
    me to go into another of my long winded explanations, you folks are
    right.  Damn crow don't taste too bad, but it lingers.
    
    Re. .8 
    Field Dressing
    Another reason is because of blood saturation in the ground, it will
    linger for some time and the deer will avoid the area.  The farm we
    hunted last year proved that to be very true.  Once the rain fell the
    deer started to walk the area again.  There was also another field were
    a buck died, it had been wounded, and layed down in an area of the
    field that wasn't really on any of the paths the deer usually took. 
    Well for about two days nothing came into the field.  Now this was like a
    300 * 300 plus yard field.  Well the stench became really bad, we found
    the buck and dragged it off maggots and all, it rained a day or two
    later and the deer started to walk the area again.
    
    Cheers
    Leonard
    
    

    Leonard, no consumption of crow required.  We just want you back
    for next season.
    
    Regarding the gut pile, we've shot many deer in the same plot of
    woods where we shot deer the day before.  Usually the gut pile has
    already been consumed by the crows, ravens and other critters.
    
    Mark.

  As another reply to the gut pile theory, I'd like to add my 2 cents
  worth.

  Just last month we field dressed an elk which my dad shot.  It was
  in an open area.  Just 2 or 3 days later my dad went back to hunt
  that same area (he still had an unfilled deer tag) and saw the gut
  pile from where someone had dressed a deer.  It was very close to
  the elk gut pile.  Also, just the day after my dad took the elk,
  another member of our hunting party saw several cow and calf elk
  within a 100 yds. of the pile.  It didn't seem to bother them.

  Jerry

    Leonard,
    
    First off, congrats on a nice buck for your first buck.  I bet the ole
    ticker was kickin when it was trigger time.  I noticed that you said
    you were sitting in your stand with the hammer in ready position.  What
    would  have happened if you slipped on a wet tree stand, and fallen
    with the rifle in your hand with the hammer in ready position?  I
    usually leave a round in the chamber, but put the hammer in safety
    mode.  That way, when it is time to shoot, i just cock it back all the
    way.  BAM!!  You can never be to safe, especially in a tree stand. 
    Even a safety is not completely reliable, it is just a mechanical
    device.  By the way, how far was the deer when you unloaded your shot
    on it?
    
    congrats again,
    bb(buckmaster bob)      the R in Rharris is for Robert, not Randy!
    

    
    
      In reference to .8 - the field dressing note is #19
    
    
                   Good Hunting, Jeff

 (Note: Saturday morning I moved a large freezer that my wife bought downstairs
into the basement. It was a real chore. I said at the time, "Well, looks like
there's plenty of room for a deer in there.")

 The alarm went off at 4:15 and I groaned, sat up, and turned it off. I had
been experienceing weird dreams and had just gotten back to sleep after waking 
up at 3:05 am. Now I was tired again. Out of bed, and got ready. I tried to
eat, but I just wasn't hungry. No matter, I packed a large lunch, expecting to
put in another 10 hour day in the woods like I had on opening day.

 Opening day had been a bust. We had hunted three separate areas, and had seen
little sign. We saw plenty of coyote scat, though. Looks like they were doing a 
bang up job on keeping the rabbit population down. Deer sign was few and far
in between. It was discouraging.

 But I kept my spirits up as I loaded my gear into the car for the trip west
to my cousin's house. Once there, we looked at some aerial photographs of the
area, marked up as soil maps. My cousin pointed out a couple of spots that
we might like to try. I had wanted to head up to another spot in Boscawen,
but Reggie thought we might want to try area K since it was the last day of any
deer season. I agreed, and we headed out. I was in the back of the jeep, lying
down and keeping comfortable during the trip to the hunting grounds. 

 We got out of the jeep, loaded up (it was just light enough for us to hunt)
and went over the barbed wire farm fence, much to the amusement of the cows.
We crossed the field and discussed our plans. We were to meet back by 9:00,
giving us 2:45 for our initial foray. We headed up the tote road and split up.
I went east, Randy went southeast, and Reggie went south. I was displeased
that it was so windy, expecting the deer to be bedded down and not moving much.
At least everything was still wet and therefore quiet. I moved noiselessly
through the forest, now thankful for the background wind noise. It was still
gray in the woods, but getting lighter by the minute. I noticed some scat on
the ground, and bent over to look at it. As I straightened up, I looked around 
one last time before moving forward a couple of steps. Some movement caught my
eye.

 A deer! He put his head down, and munched on something or other, and I saw
antlers. I moved backwards (actually too quickly) but he didn't see me. The 
adrenaline started to pump. I waited for his head to go behind a tree, then
popped off the safety and raised the gun. I had a bead on him for a few seconds,
but was afraid to fire through the brush, lest the slug be knocked off course.
The gun started shaking like mad. I concentrated, avowed I would not miss,
and pulled the trigger. Kapow! He jumped up a couple of inches and went down in
a pile. I walked over to him. He lay there, struggling a little bit. I had to
decide whether to give him another. I looked for the entry wound where I had
aimed. Nothing. I walked around him. I couldn't find a scratch on him. But
clearly I had hit him somewhere; I didn't just scare him down! :-)

 Finally I saw a tuft of fur behind his shoulder. It was a mortal wound. In
another 30 seconds, he stopped moving. I looked up. Reggie and Randy had
come over to see what had happened. They had only been 80 yards away when
I shot. They didn't see the deer, but they knew I had hit him since I gave them
the thumbs up. Then they saw him at my feet.

 The job of field dressing him was quickly attacked. It turned out to be a lot
of work (IMO). :-) Since I had never done it, nor watched anyone do it, nor
rented a video, it was a case of learn as you go. It took nearly an hour. I was 
very careful not to puncture anything gross :-) so it took awhile. His tarsal
glands reeked! Reggie and Randy helped alot. 

 What an experience! My first deer. What a short season, though. :-)

 The Doctah

          My Dad wasn't much of an outdoorsman.  The only "hunting" he
          and I ever did was to go chipmunk shooting one afternoon with
          the new .22 rifle I got for my 12th birthday.  I also went
          jack rabbit hunting once when I was 17 with 2 of my friends.
          After that, I decided I didn't like using animals as targets.
          I felt that their lives were more valuable than that.  So, for
          the next 15 years, I had absolutely no desire to go hunting.
          
          This year, a friend and I decided to go deer hunting.  Dave
          Lunt had been bowhunting a few times, but it was also his
          first time with a firearm.  I didn't have any moral problems
          with klling a deer because it would be more than just a moving
          target to shoot and leave for the scavengers.  The principles
          of game management also gave it some credibility.
          
          We left early Thursday morning, but found all of the access
          roads to the area we wanted locked.  So, we went somewhere
          else.  If anybody could have watched us that day, he would
          surely have been amused.  We got the truck stuck, faked our
          way through installing tire chains that neither of us had ever
          used, found nothing but stray farm animal tracks, and wondered
          about an outhouse we stumbled across out in the middle of
          nowhere.  All the while, Dave pateintly taught me what he knew
          about deer and their habits.  We were lucky on the way back to
          camp because we came across some hunters that told us how to
          get where we had wanted to go in the first place.
          
          The next morning we were off.  We stopped in a little
          not-quite-town to gas up.  The old gas pump had the crank
          handle to zero the readings and dinged away with each gallon
          pumped.  Inside was a wood stove in the middle of the room for
          heat.  Next to it was a really old guy, with about a week's
          worth of stubble, just sitting there thinking to himself.  A
          couple of "good ol' boys" were chewing the fat by the cash
          register.  It was like getting caught in a time warp!  
          
          We eventually found the access road we were looking for and
          decided to put the chains back on before going up the hill
          side.  We knew what we were doing this time and it went a
          little faster.  We were really excited because there was only
          one other set of tire tracks in the snow and that meant that
          there wouldn't be a lot of people there.  The road led down
          into a gully, and the tracks ahead of us had turned around and
          gone back.  I got out and started walking down the hill to see
          what the road was like ahead.  Dave saw me spook a buck and 3
          does up in the trees, but it was too late to stop me.  I, of
          course, was looking at the road and didn't see them until I
          got back to the truck.  They ran up over the ridge and were
          gone. But, we found a lot of tracks and had seen some deer, so
          we knew this was a good place to hunt.  
          
          After making camp and packing a lunch, we walked for about two
          miles before coming to a meadow with a lot of deer tracks.  It
          covered several ridges and went a good way down the mountain.
          Dave went down low on one side, and I took the other.  After
          glassing the area, it seemed that the tracks originated from
          the trees above, so I worked my way up to them.  I found a
          spot at the base of a big Aspen that allowed me a good view of
          most of the meadow.  Shortly after 4:15, I stopped glassing
          the tree line to my right and turned around to find that a
          buck had crept into the field on my left.  He was about 75
          yards away.
          
          It's almost spooky to rcall what I thought, felt, and did
          next.  I had heard of "buck fever" and had always been afraid
          I would get it.  But I had gone over things so many times in
          my mind, and practiced shooting from enough different
          positions, that I was on auto pilot.  There was no emotion of
          excitement or nervousness.  I just slowly wrapped my arm
          around the sling, took aim, and fired.  He jerked as the shot
          penetrated his lungs, stood there for a second, and then
          bolted right at me.  (I'm sure it wasn't his intention to
          charge me, it was just the shortest path back to the trees.) I
          chambered another round and shot him in the throat.  It must
          have broken his neck, because he dropped like a rock.
          Throughout the whole event, everything seemed to happen in
          slow motion.  It wasn't until he fell to the second shot that
          I really started to feel excited -- my first deer!
          
          Excitement, however, was quickly replaced by uncertainty.  Was
          he really dead?  What do I do now?  Should I wait for Dave to
          arrive or start without him?  
          
          I slowly approached the buck and poked him in the eye with my
          muzzle.  There was no reaction, but I still wasn't sure, so I
          poked him really hard a few times in the head and back.  Still
          no reaction -- still not sure.  I don't know how long I stood
          there before actually touching him.  It must have been at
          least a few minutes.
          
          More comedy followed.  The sun was gone behind the mountain by
          now, and the only thing I knew about dressing a deer is what I
          learned in Hunter education and read in a book that was
          illustrated with drawings instead of color photographs!  It
          didn't make sense to wait for Dave -- he had never done it
          either!  I started cutting the hide from the sternum and made
          it down to the genitals by the time Dave arrived.  It took an
          incredibly long time to free and tie off the urethra and
          bowel, because I was afraid I would cut them and have
          everything leak out onto the meat.  
          
          I cut through the stomach muscles next.  The book said that
          everything would just fall right out.  Not so!  By now it was
          almost dark.  Dave was holding the buck from rolling over with
          one hand, and holding a flashlight in the other hand.  I
          managed to clean out the abdominal cavity and then started
          cutting the diaphram.  This part was no picinic either.  I
          couldn't see anything up in the chest and it was all done by
          feel -- especially the part where I cut myself!  
          
          We drug the deer down to the road where I stayed with it and
          the gear while Dave went for the truck.  When we got to our
          campsite, we hoisted it up in a tree.  It's too bad we
          couldn't have video taped that.  It was another adventure that
          nobody will ever believe.  Dave made biscuits with dinner that
          night to celebrate.  
          
          It turned out to be a fairly big buck.  If the brow tines are
          not counted, it has 4 points on one side and 5 on the other.
          Dave kept making a big deal about how big it was, but I was
          too naive to understand what he meant until we took it to be
          processed.  Out of about a dozen animals, it was noticably the
          largest.  
          
          I believe that hunting success consists partly of skill and
          partly of luck.  Of course that is based on my very limited
          experience.  I just watched for and did the things that Dave
          had told me in order to be at the right place at the right
          time.
          
          Even though we bagged a very nice buck, that was not the best
          part of the trip.  The things we saw and learned in the field,
          and the talks we had after arriving back at camp were what
          made the trip a success.  Those nights of sharing our hopes
          and feelings with each other around that little table were the
          highlights that will be remembered.  Being able to fill out a
          deer tag was just a bonus.

          -- Rex Fisher

    The ice is broken, monday 10;30 (8 point buck) dressed out at 155lbs.
    it's a number of years since since my last one. This is my 2nd 8 point
    buck, the last in 1967. This one took 3 shots each one should have
    drooped him, he traveled 150 yards. Shot in Grafton. I'm very happy
    with this one. Good luck to the rest of You!
    The Warden