Author Topic: HUNTING STORIES  (Read 965 times)

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Offline tazweiss

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« on: January 03, 2014, 10:01:21 AM »
My favorite old hunting story:

     Back in the late 80's, I lived in Lethbridge.  One year my best friend and I decided to go deer hunting west of Pincher Creek.  My friend's younger brother, who was in the reserves at the time, had a friend who asked to go with us.  He said he would sign out a ten man tent from his reserve unit so we let him come along.  My friend had his 30-06, I had my old 303 Lee Enfield with a 6 power scope and the third guy (I don't remember his name so I'll call him Joe) had a 7mm magnum.
     We went out, set up camp and didn't spot so much as a track for three days.  On the morning of the 4th day it was snowing heavily with high winds.  As we walked north along the river bed we saw a dry creek bed coming down from the west.  We decided that Joe and I would travel up the ridgeline to the south of the creek bed for a half mile and try to drive down any deer to my friend who would wait at the bottom.
     Joe and I started off into the blowing snow, Joe in the lead.  We had been walking up the ridge for 20 to 25 minutes when Joe suddenly turned to the right and fired.  He was all excited saying there's some deer, there's some deer!  When I looked I could see about 400 yards to the north, some smudges moving rapidly through the blowing snow.  I couldn't even tell if any of them were legal but Joe said the lead buck was.  Joe was shouting at me to shoot.  I'm thinking "Yeah, right, at that range the .303 has a trajectory like a mortar".  Finally, to shut Joe up, I aimed in the general direction and high.  I squeezed the trigger and wouldn't you know it, the lead buck dropped. 
     Joe stood there looking at me with his jaw hanging open.  I just shrugged and said that I'd go get my kill while he continued up the ridge.  I was more shocked at the shot than he was but "Never let them see you sweat".  It took me about 20 minutes to get over to the deer and see that my shot had struck about an inch below the skull, right through the spine.
     I didn't want to stand up on that bald hill in the high wind and clean my kill so I started to drag it down to the creek bed where it was sheltered from the wind.  I had to jump out of the way when the deer started to slide, right down into a clearing on the creek bed.  A few minutes later, Joe and my friend joined me.  Joe was all excited about the shot I'd made and was telling my friend about it.  My friend looks at Joe, with his best poker face and says that If Joe had ever seen me shoot before he wouldn't think the shot was so special. 
     To this day, my friends younger brother says that Joe still doesn't realize that it was the luckiest shot in hunting history.  Anyway, the story doesn't end there.
     My friend said that he and Joe would bring the truck up from camp while I stayed and cleaned my kill.  Before they left, I told them that I'd have another deer, even bigger waiting when they got back.  I decided to have a smoke before I started cleaning.  After my smoke, I leaned my rifle against a fallen log, pulled out my knife and bent over to make my first cut.  Just then the hair on the back of my neck stood up and I knew I was being watched.  I slowly looked over my left shoulder and there he was, a huge buck on a small rise about 50 yards away, watching me.  I knew that as soon as I moved he'd be gone but I casually reached over for my rifle anyway.  As I turned toward him, I just saw the tips of his antlers disappear. 
     I slowly walked to the top of the little hill and looked around.  He had crossed the creek bed and was about 25 yards away through the thick brush, standing broadside to me.  This time I decided to go for a heart shot.  I lined up and fired.  He just stood there.  What the hell?  Did I really miss at that range?  Just as I lined up to try another shot, he started walking.  After a few meters, I saw his legs start to wobble.  After a few more steps, he dropped and slid down the hill.  What stopped his slide was the first deer I had shot. 
     When Joe and my friend returned I just said that I told them I would have another one.  We loaded them up and I had to return home that day for work.  My friend and Joe stayed out for another 3 days and never saw any more deer.
     As it turned out, that was the last deer hunt I ever went on.
Amateurs built the Ark.
Professionals built the Titanic.