I'm outta gas- figuratively and literally. I came out of the woods last night to that sickly sweet smell of poverty: my propane tanks on empty. To say it's been a rough season would be an understatement at this point. I have a constant crick in my back from long cold hours on stand and everything around the house has gone to hell. As other hunters seem to be having a banner year, the hardest hunter I know (besides myself) Savage Lynch is in the same boat. Yesterday he shot Bambi and the day before I shot his mother....at least that's what I thought.
Since the last week of bow season I've been hunting that big 8 over at Majestic, with no luck. I haven't seen horns in a while and in this weather (fog and rain) I'm lucky to see a deer. It's not like I haven't been here before, but after last season's big bucks, it seems especially crushing. So on the weekend I decided to take a doe. Shouldn't be a problem, right? I'm sure you have a whole bunch under your bird feeder in the backyard. Well, I've seen deer and had shots, but they've all been little butterballs. A large doe seems to be as illusive as that 8. So when I saw a medium sized deer a couple of mornings ago, I was ready to pull the trigger. I took my time, watching the deer feed a 100 yard circle for about an hour. When "she" came down the pike I pulled the gun up at 50 yards. When the vitals were offered I pulled the trigger dropping the deer in "her" tracks. Then I poured myself a cup of coffee, thanked the LGM and the deer, and congratulated myself on a good shot, deciding to let the woods settle down and see if a buck would show. It was at this point I noticed something strange on the head of that deer- two little antlers. I'd killed a button buck by mistake. Damn!
I'm usually so careful to look at the head, not wanting to shoot a spike. But these horns were so small and I was so certain it was a doe, that I didn't look when it got close. If the DEC agent assigned to my blog wants to arrest me, go ahead. I deserve it. Take me away. That's how things are going. Thankfully the gas man just showed up. I spilled a whole cup of coffee on him, just trying to be nice. I can wash my dishes, take a shower, and butcher up the little buck today. He'll eat good, and by this evening all the evidence will be gone. He didn't deserve a 30.06 in the chest. Cheeky sniffs his ear on the porch and looks at me with puzzled dismay. I know. I know. Always look at the head.
No comments:
Post a Comment