A Shy 9 and the Savage

 

A Shy 9 and the Savage

11/28/2020

 We got out later than we wanted to but it was still dark enough a flashlight was needed to find our way to our stands the first day of Pennsylvania buck season. The ground was still soft from recent rain, like walking on a new 2" gymnasium tumbling mat, so we weren’t to noisy walking through the forest. One thing in my favor was that I actually found the trees I marked a week before that I wanted to sit by on opening day without roaming around. Unlike the past two years I couldn’t find the trees I marked though I knew I was in the same general area. This time I found my spot.

 I cleared the sticks away from where my feet would be while sitting and brushed the leaves away from the tree trunk where I put my hot seat. I buttoned up my Woolrich shirt and zipped up my orange Parka. I wiped off the sweat from my brow from the walk in and settled in my outdoor man made den for the morning hunt. I had my rifle loaded, my food, drinks and snacks for the time being. All I needed was a rack on the tree to complete my outdoor man cave!

  It was slowly getting lighter out but not light enough to make out anything over 25 yards or so on this side of the mountain. Up the ridge behind me I heard a deer snort but it was too dark to see any movement. Just before it got light enough to see 50 yards or so a squirrel started barking in a tree somewhere near. Maybe he was an early riser and couldn’t wait to broadcast the weather for the day. Or maybe he was just wanting a mate to go to breakfast with? Whatever the reasoning he chattered for a few minutes or so and then was quiet. Once it got light enough to see a fair distance the crows brought in the new day noisily, while flying overhead, as if to wake up the other wildlife in the forest. Other than that the woods was quiet except when a gust of wind would blow through the pines and rattle the leaves on the small branches of the Beech saplings. The rattling caused awareness at first but I kind of got used to it and was sure I would know the difference if an animal was coming through.

  The Beech tree sapling were thick just downhill to my left as I stationed myself looking downhill and slightly to my right. There was a long blow down on my extreme right that was held up by branches at about a 30 degree angle with the top branches of the tree facing uphill. I was able to see between the up-sticking branches but to shoot between the branches wouldn’t be practical. I could see along the bench below me and a little further down the hill if something should move through. Behind me it was pretty clear without any thick brush for about 100 yards or so. Above that was the top of the mountain and blue skies. To my left I would have to turn around the tree and could see about 100 yards or so but there were tree obstacles and boulders to obstruct some of my vision. I was still happy with my position hunkered down or standing up. The temperature was in the lower 40’s, I would have guessed, and the wind gusts made it feel a little colder than that. When I leaned my back up against the tree I could feel the cold sweat on my clothes upon my back from climbing the hill in the morning. Other than that I was as comfortable as I figured I could be without starting a fire or having a beer in my outdoor man quarters.

  The first thing that caught my eye was a gray squirrel  moseying along upon the forest floor and scampering upon downed tree limbs. A few small birds chirped and fluttered as they continued on their journey searching for food I presume. The shooting started about 8 I would say. Most of it was down below to my left where Jeff said he would be. There was a lot more shooting, single shots, than I ever witnessed this side on the mountain in all the years I’ve been hunting here. No shots where very close that got me real excited though I did keep my guard up.

  The first deer I saw came up to the bench below me to my right. She stopped about 130 yards or so and gazed up the mountain side. Her coat was brown. Not a tan or gray brown but simply brown like a Colorado Maduro tobacco leaf wrapper brown. When she turned to look behind her I thought maybe she was being followed by a buck. She stood there for a short bit then continued to trot and leap over downed logs to my right through the blow downs. I kept my focus on where she first appeared hoping to catch a glimpse of maybe a buck following her. I watched for about 10 minutes, I’d say more or less, until I turned my attention elsewhere. There was a shot down hill from where she came from before she appeared. Maybe the buck got shot or scared off from a missed opportunity that he took off in a different direction. I happen to turn and look around the tree I was sitting next to and saw two deer, both doe, within 30 yards of me just uphill from a big boulder. They saw me immediately and skedaddled in the opposite direction. How deer can sneak up that close without hearing them is incredible. They have 4 hooves compared to my two feet and they can walk upon the branchy, leafy, forest floor practically without a sound!

  With the recent activity of deer sightings and an occasional gun shot I stood up to get a better view of my surroundings. I figured where the doe spooked there wasn’t going to be any deer coming from that direction any time soon but I was wrong. From out of the thick Beech saplings, about 80-90 yards away, a buck showed up a few minutes later. His cigarette head antlers curved upward a piece with a ‘y’ just about forming off his main thin beams. I couldn’t see any brow tines but the rack he sported was a little on the shaky side for me to be sure he was legal. Besides that he looked to be a young buck and the cigar diameter rack didn’t appeal to me. Not that I’m picky, well, maybe I am a bit and I’ll just leave it at that. He looked as if he was spooked as he took a few steps up hill and stopped as if he was uncertain of continuing. After he went about another 10 yards he turned and went back into the thick Beech saplings and disappeared for good. That was my whole excitement for the morning.

  Around 11:00 I got up and walked towards the blow downs to see what was on the other side of the blow down on my extreme right. I stood for about 10-15 minutes but didn’t see anything moving. As before, in the past, I decided to stealthily walk the bench I was on towards the direction that the two doe spooked to. In the past I have got 3 bucks in that general direction.

  I maybe walked about a couple hundred yards when another hunter was walking down the mountainside towards my direction. We talked a bit and he was headed down towards the pipe line where Jeff and I came in from in the morning. After he left I changed my plan. He had just come from the area I was going towards. I figured there was no use to keep on going where he might have spooked any deer in the area. Instead I figured I’d head back and just stay were I planted myself in the morning. I seen a few deer there and didn’t see any hunters around. I figured the only reason there wasn’t much shooting around me was because there weren’t anyone up this high. I took my time and returned to my outdoor den. I sat down, ate a sandwich, drank some water and had a mini candy bar for lunch. I leaned back against the tree and listened for any activity within ear shot while continuing to search the area within vision.

  I guess it was about 1:00 when I got up to stretch my legs. I was looking down the hill when I heard some rustling and saw movement in the sapling thicket. A brown body was moving, more than a walk, through the saplings and I caught sight of his antlers. I lifted the lever action with the butt up against my shoulder ready! My left shoulder was up against the tree for steadiness with my left hand holding the forearm. My right thumb wrapped around the top of the neck of the rifle stock as my palm gripped the neck and three fingers wrapped and gripping through the lever. My itchy trigger finger was ready to slip back the safe as it was tapping on the trigger guard. If he continued up hill he’ll clear the thick saplings and I’ll get a clearer shot at him nearly broadside. Instead he turned towards me a bit and was moving a little faster. I picked out a window of opportunity between two tall trees that I was hoping he would appear. Sure enough he was coming through. I flipped the safe off the lever and when the cross hairs was on brown I pulled the trigger. The 300 Savage boomed. I didn’t see the buck fall but he did disappear with the shot. Instinctively I chambered another round and waited. The last I saw of him was that he leaped over something in the thick brush but it was too thick and he was moving too fast to try to shoot through for a good shot. Somewhere beyond I heard him crash down. I was pretty sure I hit him and when I heard the crashing noise in the saplings I was pretty sure he was down. I figured I’d wait the 15 to 20 minutes before I’d start to look for him. This way it will give him time to lay down and die and not be pushed. That waiting game changed when within 10 seconds I heard a shot down below. My heart just dropped like if going back to the river, after taking a wizz in the woods, and finding someone stole your fly rod and knowing you’ll never get it back. All that went through my mind at first was the buck stumbled down hill and someone saw it and shot it. I quickly picked up the brass casing, clamped the hot seat to my belt loop and snapped the fanny pack around my waist. I didn’t walk towards where I initially shot the buck or actually where I heard the crashing commotion within the saplings. I was headed straight down to where I heard the last shot. After I cleared the first section of the young leafy saplings there was a trail that ran along the ridge between the section I just walked through and the next group of thick saplings down hill. When I looked to my left to see how far the trail went I saw a brown body sprawled out along a fallen tree limb. I picked up my lever action and looked through the scope. I saw my buck quietly ‘dirt napping’ as some may say. 

  

 My heart moved back in place and my frowning turned into a big smile. When I got to the buck I was as happy and excited as a kid getting his first Red Ryder BB gun on his 10^th birthday from his grandfather. No matter how old I get the excitement doesn’t cease. He sported a good solid rack for a mountain buck. 4 distinguished points on each side with a questionable point on his left beam. The brow points were a bit crooked and I noticed both ears were sliced a little. This guy has been in some battles with other bucks no doubt.

  

 After field dressing him it was near 1:30. I filled out the tag and twist tied it to his ear. I looked down hill and grabbed his antlers and started the drag down towards the pipe line. At 2:00 I got on the walkie-talkie to see if my son Giddeon or Jeff was on the air. Jeff answered and I said I could use some help getting the buck to the pipe line. I told him I’d blow my whistle in about 5 minutes so he could figure out my location. He told me to give him ten. It wasn’t long before I saw 4 hunters on the pipe line below. I blew the whistle and one of them, Jeff, started to come up towards me. When he reached me he said that after I shot a smaller basket rack 8 point buck ran down the hill and an older gent got him. That was the shot I heard after mine. Jeff also told me he hit a buck around 8:00 coming towards him. He took the shot and the deer took off away from him. He followed the blood trail a good piece and found pieces of bone but never came upon the buck. He said the whole time he followed the blood trail, that wasn’t easy to locate at times, the buck didn’t go down or up hill it just continued along the bench. After a while he lost the trail and gave up. I know Jeff doesn’t give up easy. Stuff like that happens. I’ve tracked wounded deer in my time that I never found. 

 Jeff grabbed an antler and we got him to the pipeline. From there I took my time dragging the buck to the road and then to the truck. By the end of the day neither my son Giddeon saw a buck nor Jeff got another shot at one.

   Back at camp we toasted to my success and ate a venison roast that had been cooking in the crock pot. Of course that night I got a fire going in the fire pit outside and smoked a rewarding cigar. We sat around the fire drinking beers and having some good old camp talk under a full moon lit sky.

 The next day Giddeon and Jeff hunted the same area while I tried moving deer to them. It was like the deer left the area. I did come across a buck rub within 10 yard of the gut pile from my buck. He won’t be making any more of them!

 

~doubletaper