The hunting story

Since hunting season is getting started and the sportsmen of the rifle are heading out soon to their favorite grounds, I thought I would tell you all my favorite hunting story. Of course, I must change the names to protect the innocent and not so innocent.

So, let’s call one of the hunters Bob, (not me) and the other LeRoy (really not me). They were getting ready for the big late hunt in Ferry County. It was an “any buck” in the section they were hunting but there were only a few public hunting lands. LeRoy’s dad was going with them for the first few days and would skedaddle to elk camp to finish his hunt. They went up the night before, got their camping spot and settled in.

Early the next morning they were eager and getting ready. First light was peeking through the branches as they stepped outside in their camo-covered gear. It was then that the smell hit them. After a little investigation, they found that there was a dead horse not far from camp, and the smell was getting worse and worse. They soon decided that a different camp was needed and spent the morning moving camp to where Leroy’s dad’s camp was set up.

The next two days were spent seeing bucks on land they could not hunt or hanging in trees of fellow hunters. Leroy’s dad had left, and the last day the two hunters were on their own. But still nothing they could legally shoot at. So, the next morning, the last day of hunting season, they decided just to pack up camp and head for home.

Leroy was driving as he pointed to the right and said, “Watch for deer down there; that’s huntable.” He not sooner had said it, and Bob’s head turned to look, than Leroy let out a sound of a moose gasping for air and moved his foot from the gas pedal to the brake in record time. This caused everything in the truck to slide violently toward the windshield. Bob only had enough time to see the horns in the front of the truck dart left as the truck screeched to a stop.

Bob was scrambling to find some shells for his 30-30 Winchester, which had spewed all over the truck. One last grasp with his hand found some as he exited the vehicle, and his feet carried him to where the deer disappeared. Bob ripped his coat going through the barbed wire, and he made his way up a cat line trying to catch up with the four-legged prize. He went up to the ridge line as quickly as he could and, out of breath, he saw four deer disappear over the next hill on a run. At the same time LeRoy yelled, “Let’s go.” But Bob heard, “It’s a doe.” As Bob turned, out of breath and huffing and puffing right below him, about 20 yards away, was a doe and the biggest whitetail buck Bob had ever seen in the wild. Bob put his one shell, (that is all he’d grabbed) in the gun and brought it up. The yell echoed in the canyon, “It’s a doe” (really lets go). The buck looked up to where the sound came from, and Bob pulled the trigger.

The rest of this story is a whirlwind of events. After Bob did a little celebration dance on the side of the hill, he realized the buck was still alive and his large antlers were now stuck in the branches of a tree. Some yelling happened: “He is still alive; shoot him again.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Only brought one shell.”

“I’m coming.”

When Leroy arrived, might I add that LeRoy was/is a law enforcement officer, he was carrying a pistol. One shot and the deer stopped moving. It was at this moment that Bob and LeRoy realized they had never cleaned a deer before. They had always had family around who would jump right in.

After some on-the-fly cleaning of a deer (they did a pretty good job, considering) they now had to put this monster buck in the back of this little slip-in camper. More grunts, more groans and most of the body of the deer was in.

Small problem: The 6X7 rack of the animal would not fit. With a little force they got it.

Of course, this story was a lot funnier in person, probably not at the time it was happening, though. The Daisey Buck provided 152 pounds of meat and the mount hung in Bob’s home for a while, then in LeRoy’s, and is now back at Bob’s. They share this story, and it is told at least once every hunting season.

So be safe out their hunters, and remember to always have a sharp knife. I’m Jess saying.