Last Buck of Ludlow

 

The Last Buck of Ludlow

12/02/2002

 Back in the late 70’s and early 80’s I use to hunt with my Grandpa Pete. I hunted anterless deer season with him every year but buck hunting was every other year. This gave me opportunity to buck hunt other areas with friends. We hunted out of a camp up on German Hill in Tionesta. There was usually at least 7 of us for doe season and buck season was always questionable who would show up. We hunted the same area in the forest near Ludlow for buck season, at least for the first day. Some of the young hunters didn’t care much for Ludlow being we didn’t see many deer there. Even though some of the guys got a buck there they nicknamed it Dudlow because of what they considered the lack of deer. I had taken a few bucks there as well as did the camp owner Mario.

  Camp life was always enjoyable back then. I was in my late teens and early 20’s when I hunted out of the camp with Grandpa and the gang. It was fun listening to the conversations, discussions and of course arguments. I was kind of quiet back then and was more of an observer in camp then a talkative conversation kind of person.

  The usual people that came to camp were aged from the oldest, being my Grandfather, to the youngest in their late teens in the early days. Mario, or Beaver as he was called, was the owner of the camp and leader of our hunting party. He built the camp when he was younger with the help of friends I’ve been told. My Grandfather and him had a special relationship that went back to when Mario was growing up. Mario’s nephews usually showed up that included Big Louie, the older nephew that I referred him as, little Louie, who I referred to because he was younger than big Louie and Jeffery who is little Louie’s younger brother. Then there was Pressure Cooker Pete S. who always brought his pressure cooker along to cook the pasta sauce on Sunday. Dan usually came in from Ohio who was an in-law. One of the twins, Carmen usually showed up every year and sometimes his twin brother Joe would show up for doe season. The other occasional hunters that would spend time at the camp with us was Jerry H., Butch S. and Tommy K. and his son. Tommy owned a sub shop in downtown Sharon. When Tom showed up we had plenty of specialty sandwich meat and good fresh cheeses. Tom was usually the cook also when he came. Mario, Grandpa and I were always there come doe season. As I said before I showed up every other year for buck season. Even though Grandpa and I wasn’t related to the rest of the group the younger folks still called him Grandpa. Mario used to call my Grandfather Peter 1-8. Never knew what the 1-8 meant but it’s something they both knew about. All these memories of camp life will remain with me forever.

  We never hunted Ludlow during doe season because we got tags for Forest County back then and Ludlow was in McKean County. When we did hunt it it was during buck season. Mario had his favorite spot to hunt from and would find that same spot next to a big old downed tree up on the saddle as he called it. Every year no matter how dark it was we’d find the spot. It was quite a hike to get there. Grandpa and I would always follow him and once we reached his spot I would continue on about 200-300 yards or so to an area I posted up every year. I remember of each dark morning I would hear Mario breaking sticks and limbs building a big fire for Grandpa to sit and keep warm by. Now you would think this would spook the deer throughout the day with the fire and all. Maybe it did to some extent but there was a day I watched a nice buck walking towards Mario and Grandpa. It was much closer to them so I had no intentions on shooting. I watched this buck get closer and closer, even though Mario and Grandpa had a fire going, until I heard Mario’s 30-06 boom. The buck fell immediately and then got up. I laughed to myself as I watched it trying to walk, much like a drunk person, until it fell over a few feet away.

  As myself I had taken a few bucks there while both of them were still alive. After they passed away I still visited and hunted the area at least once or twice a year. My oldest son got his first buck there and also my youngest son got his first buck in the same general area when they were young. My other son, Giddeon, had enough patience to pass up a cigarette head spike even though it was a chance to shoot his first buck.

  Grandpa passed away back in 1990 at the age of 89. The last few years he still came to camp but usually stayed in camp while we hunted due to his old age. He was healthy within but he knew his legs and body wasn’t for hunting anymore. Mario passed away in 1997 at the age of 72. After Grandpa died I never stayed at camp or hunted out of it. I did however meet them during buck or doe season where they were hunting. By then my boys were of age to hunt and we would hunt together. Sometimes we would meet the old gang but other times we were on our own.

  Like I said before, even to this day, I take a day to visit that same area either to hunt it or just to rekindle the memories while hiking. It still gives me chills visiting that same location in Ludlow.

  Two of my favorite buck hunts, after they passed away, was a couple of 8 points I shot while hunting by myself. The first was an eight point that I was posted between Mario’s spot and where I usually posted up back in November of 2000. It was the first day of buck season and I was leaning up against a tree. About 8:00 a buck came trotting down, from where I usually sit, and crossed about 100 yards or so broadside of me. The 300 Savage hit him squarely behind the shoulder. The buck went down but got up again and continued to trot/run away as I remember. There was no snow on the ground but I do remember I tracked him for a couple of hundred yards if my memory is correct. When it came to a little creek I couldn’t find any more blood. I continued in a straight path from his previous trail and found him within a few yards of the creek. It wasn’t a trophy buck by any means but it was the biggest buck I had gotten at the time. It meant more to me as a buck that I had gotten in memory of my Grandfather and Mario in that area that I got it mounted.

 

 My other favorite Ludlow buck season hunt didn’t last too long. It also was the last buck I had shot in the Ludlow forest in that general area back in 2002. My memory recalls it going something like this;

  I awoke in my van to the darkness of the early morning parked in a small opening off the dirt road. After a cup of hot tea and a donut breakfast I put on my warm undergarments and dressed in my Woolrich hunting clothes. When I stepped outside it was a chilly damp morning. If I recall correctly the snow had melted and with the warmer temperature I was able to feel that dampness in the air. I attached my hot seat to my belt, fastened the fanny pack around my waist and took out the trusty 300 Savage. Before starting to walk I checked my compass and then started my hike to where I wanted to sit. The ground and wet leaves made for a quiet walk except for an occasional stick that may of snapped when I walked upon them. When I got to the area I usually post at I decided to keep on walking and find a spot up near the saddle of the ravine. When I felt I was around the area I wanted to sit I loaded the rifle, brushed off some of the wet leaves next to the tree and sat down on my hot seat in the darkness.

  It’s an eerie feeling sitting in a dark forest in the early morning. You hear things that you don’t really know what is making the noises. You envision it’s animals but it just might be a branch that fell to the ground some distance away that startles you. Sometimes you’ll hear movement in the thicker saplings that just might be a breeze passing through rattling the dried leaves on the branches. Then there’s the visions and thoughts that run through your head like daydreaming but now in total darkness in a place no one actually knows you are there. It sounds like kind of a risk taking but us hunters do it so many times it becomes second nature and not as scary as it may sound.

  I sat quietly waiting for the first signs of daylight. The moon above gave me some indication of my surrounding. Trees, trees and more trees. Looking up the limbs branched out in all directions beneath the starless gray sky. A cold damp breeze would waft through the air and carry with it aromas of pine and old forest mildew. I huddled with my collar up trying to keep the cold wind from entering inside my hunting coat. When the first sign of daylight came, enough to see down the saddle of the bowl that sloped down towards the steep ravine, I looked out into the vast area looking for movement.

  I always taught my kids it is hard to pick out a deer standing in a wooded forest. Your eyes and the forest tree trunks, broken fallen limbs and boulders play trick on you. Instead you slowly gaze out and look for movement. Once you see, what you think is movement, you concentrate on that until you figure out what it might be. It could be just a fluttering of a bird. Maybe a hanging tree branch that sways with each gust of wind. Maybe a squirrel scampering or maybe a deer.

  Looking down the bowl a fog rolled across caused by the cold ground and warmer temperature outside I suppose. I’m sure the wet ground had a lot to do with the misty fog also. It was so thick, as I recall, it was hard to see just a few yards in front of me. I could feel the misty droplets on my skin and the dampness that came along with it. It would last a few minutes or so as it slowly moved out of the area with a push from a gentle breeze. I would just bow my head and close my eyes as if resting when I was no longer able to see because of the fog. Every few seconds though I would open an eye just enough to peer out to see if the fog was gone. This happened over and over again as the morning got lighter. On one occasion I opened my eyes and there was this buck walking straight towards me up the bowl. He was no more than 70 yards or so when the misty fog cleared. His nose was towards the forest floor and he slowly was walking his way right towards me. His antlers curved symmetrically above his ears. I lifted the 300 to my shoulder slowly and put the crosshairs on his nose waiting for him to lift his head enough that I could get a good shot in that soft spot between his front shoulders. I knew he would be a nice wall mount and didn’t want a head shot. Patiently I waited as he continued towards me as his head was getting bigger and bigger in my 4x9 Weaver scope. He finally stopped and picked up his head. I already had the safe off. I whispered good-bye and pulled the trigger. The 300 boomed and I saw the buck fall within my scope. He fell like a 50 pound sack of chicken feed off the back of a farm wagon. My heart was racing as I recall and I sat motionless waiting for him to get up besides trying to calm my nerves. It was so quiet after the shot I could feel and swear hear my heart thumping with every beat. He just laid there without a twitch. I took a breath and lowered the rifle. Once my nerves calmed down and I could see he wasn’t getting up I stood. He was so close I stepped off the distance between him and I. My normal walking pace from step to step is no where near a yard. I took 30 steps and stood over the 8 point. I looked at my watch and it was 7:30 in the morning. My hunt was over.

  

 That was the last buck I shot in the forest of Ludlow. As I said before I still hunt the area at least once a year. The past year, in 2019, I hunted all day there in anterless season. I saw a group of three doe running but none of them stopped for a shot. This past season, 2020, I hunted there all day in doe season. There were plenty of deer tracks in the snow but I never saw a deer. I never saw a hunter in the area either though I heard vehicles driving up and down the dirt road most of the day. It was like this small area we hunted wasn’t visited or hunted by other hunters. Kind of like a vacant lot in the old neighborhood that once a group of kids played baseball or football in every year that now has been abandoned over time. Well ‘I’ still visit it.

  There still might not be many deer in that area we used to hunt but there’s lots of memories still there! 

 

~doubletaper