| It was day five
of the regular hunt. My partner, Reed Shaw, and I decided to go for the early morning
hunt, but we had to be back to work by 9:00 a.m. The snow was falling good as we left. We
planned on hunting close to town in the low country only about 15 to 20 minutes from town.
When we arrived at our predetermined spot, about
four inches of snow had fallen and it was still snowing pretty good. We hiked up on the
ridge where we could see in the basin below. I stood there watching. I could not sit down
for the cedar trees were too tall and I could not see over them. A forked horn walked out
of a grove of trees across the ridge from me. As I watched him, I wondered if there could
be more. A few minutes passed, when from the same spot out walked a nice large buck. I
could not make out how large he was because of the falling snow but I knew he was big and
would fill my tag very nicely.
He moved slowly into the opening with the forked horn,
stopping to feed and moving a step or two and stopping again. I took aim and shot over his
back. He never moved, just looked around. The second shot had the same result. Talking to
myself, I took a fine bead, squeezed another round from the off hand standing position on
the rock. Immediately the buck collapsed and I knew I had made a good shot. To my surprise
the buck rose to his feet and turned toward me. With the snow in the background, I could
see he was a trophy of a lifetime. The buck quickly moved back into the trees where he
came from and I became afraid I had made a poor shot and he’d get away.
I jumped off the rock and moved through the first draw and
into the second one that led up to where I had seen him last. Looking around for his
tracks, I found none so I figured he was above me. With my rifle ready, I slowly moved up
the ravine watching every cedar and bush for any sign or tracks in the snow. I found none
and continued to move up the draw. I was getting close to where the buck disappeared. In
the snow I saw the tracks where the two deer had been feeding before moving out. My heart
was beating extremely fast and I watched everywhere, looking for his tracks or blood, or
some sign of which way he could have gone. I slowly walked around a cedar and looked to my
left where I thought he had entered. There in the snow lay my trophy. His head was
positioned between his front legs so that they held his head perfectly balanced with
neither antler toughing the snow. Not knowing if he was dead or not, I released the safety
and approached slowly. If he was to move I would get a point blank shot for he was only 25
feet away. I moved slowly up to him and I could see that he was done for. I nudged him
with my foot and as I did his head tipped to the left and his antler rested in the snow. I
immediately let out a loud yell, sat down in the snow, and admired my trophy. Time was
running out.
I field dressed the buck, got my rope out, found a gamble,
and wound him up into the nearest tree. I had made a good shot, right through the lungs
and he only had time to move the 50 feet out of my sight. I quickly made a mark on my
rifle for the width, counted the points, looked at my watch, and headed for the truck on a
fast jog. Part way I ran into Reed, who was looking for me. We both jogged to the truck.
He kept asking me how big and all I could say was enormous, a trophy I had dreamed about
for years.
We arrived at the truck and headed for town as time was
getting short. We arrived at my home at 8:43. I immediately called the superintendent and
told him about the trophy I had taken this morning. He told me that if this was not a tall
tale to take the morning off and go get him.
We loaded the horse and headed back to the hills. We
arrived at the kill, loaded the buck and after 30 minutes of looking, talking, and
measuring him. We brought him back to town, unloaded the horse, took the buck downtown and
parked the truck on Main Street for all to see, admire, and be envious.  |
