NOT EVEN A MONTH INTO IT AND IM DONE

Well, I promised Chris I would post on here and update yall on the fun venison slaying adventures that I've been partaking in. That promise made, here it is, sorry Chris I know its two weeks late.

Saturday October 22, 2005:

This season I've decided not to shoot the bow, instead the S&W twin mags will do the honors. Early morning Saturday I went out to the climber, made plenty of noise getting into the stand and settling in about 25 feet up the tree. Darkness broke and the squirrels started their wiley fun and games. Around 10:30 I decided that nothing was coming my way and that if I were to see any freezer filler that I was going to have to go find it. I decided to get on a deer trail that historically translates into the interstate of deer travel and parallel this trail about 50 yards out. After a couple of hours of hearing nothing but my own footsteps and seeing nothing but my own gut in front of me I decided that the morning hunt was a shut out. Deer 1, Woody 0

The same evening got a late start getting to the lease, signing in at the barn shortly after 17:30 and completely confident that I was not going to be able to get to the tripod that I had decided to hunt from without seeing or being seen by deer. The area that I had decided to go to was a sure bet for does and culls, and being as the rut was still a few weeks off I decided to try to bag a flathead with the pistol. The area has a small ground box for the riflers on the lease and a tripod for the bow slingers. A feeder that works only half the time in the middle of field that is approx. 75 yard diameter. The tripod is set up on the edge of this field with an excellent view of a neighboring field and several lanes that funnel deer into the feeder area. I walked from the truck the short 200 yards around the tree line to the field approaching the mouth of the field slowly and quietly, as past experience has caught me off guard and deer showing me the bouncing cotton white flag of fleeing awareness. And, as I expected there were two doe standing directly in the center of this field. I slowly knelt and laid to the ground, drawing my 44 along the way. crawling slowly at a record pace of a couple of feet per minute I closed the gap to about 50 yards between myself and the two unsuspecting does. This is the point where I decided to stay put and lay low, hoping the deer would migrate within 40 yards of death. About 5 minutes passed with little to no movement from the deer when the more mature of the two sensed me and decided that she wasn't comfortable with the present situation. She gave me the old snort warning and a foot stomp to let me know that she wasn't happy and proceeded to move off into the brush. This is where I found relief in the fact that I was positive that she hadn't actually seen me and nor could she see me now, I quickly and quietly made my way to the tripod and was sitting atop just a hair before 18:30. Sweet, sundown in 30 and end of civil twilight in 60.

I sat for about 40 minutes waiting to see something other than the two huge dillos that were severely screwing up my hearing chi. That's when I looked off into the neighboring field and spotted a large bodied deer unknown in sex, but obviously not a mature buck. And, in the time it took me to swing the binocs up and positively identify the deer as a 3 year old spike, the two doe had returned from the opposite direction. This was a small pickle to be in. Knowing that Chris would be coming into town to try and put a little venison in his otherwise venison free Amarillo freezer, I made an executive decision that if I took this cull, then that would free Chris to hunt the severely less elusive does thus bettering his chances for some go home meat. With light running away fast, I decided to keep an eye on the does and try to lure this little inferior buck into my sights. With a series of muffled bleats and a snort from the old grunt tube I gained the attention of the little buck and the does. The does acted surprised to hear a patron so close to themselves without notice, but reacted with only curiosity. The little buck decided that he wanted in on the action and started moving my direction with about 10 minutes to dark. Surprisingly having the two does turned out to be an advantage for me, after covering about 70 yards to accompany us in the field I was hunting, the little buck finally saw the two does that were with me and decided to come on in to join the party. With light slipping away fast and the spike moving in front of me at about 40 yards from my right to left, I slowly raised the barrel of my .44 mag and settled the sights in the middle of his neck about 8 inches below his head. Took my breath of death and squeezed the trigger, sending 240 grains of hornady xtp into the same spot intended and spun the buck 180 degrees in the opposite direction. The buck hit the ground and commenced to doing donuts in the field like a teenager in a mustang on a frozen parking lot. After watching this for about 30 seconds, I decided I needed to end the fun before I ran completely out of light and when the buck stopped his spinning to catch his breath I gave him a dose of whoa boy between the lookers. Needless to say this fell the field silent with only a faint ringing that Im certain only I could hear.

All in all, the genetically stunted fella went 125lbs on the hoof +/- 240 grains, and 94lbs dressed, and number one in the killing book for death dealt with the big bore magnum.

October 29, 2005, AM hunt:

I went to the hometown football game and witnessed what had to be a state record for turnovers from the two 1A teams, and witnessed an unfortunate loss for the home team. After the game I invited my brother in law (Brad) if he would like to accompany me on the next morning's hunt, to which he replied that he would.

05:30 rolled around and myself and Brad rolled out of the inlaws casa to make the 15 minute trip to the lease. We signed in at the barn and drove the short distance to the gravel pit where we would leave the truck and walk into the stand. I was toting the 300 mag and Brad was accompanied by his dads .308, and the intention of letting brad shoot a doe for his old man and family freezer, and myself just being there with the artillery if the grande showed up.

We quickly loaded down the backpack and took off to the blind. Crawling into the blind about 15 minutes to daylight, we settled in and ate our breakfasts of biscuit and egg sandwiches with the coke of our liking. Brad swiftly finished his and began to scan the morning field of 4.5 ft johnson grass. I was about half finished with my breakfast when first light had arrived, and decided to grunt a couple of times followed by a bleat. Set the grunt tube down and continued enjoying my breakfast. No more that a minute following the grunts Brad informed me that he thought he had spotted something moving through the grass and with deer characteristics. A quick scan of the field with the glasses revealed nothing, but the light conditions were still not ideal. Brad continued to see something moving through the grass at about 80 yards out over the next five minutes but could never really make visual confirmation of what it was. After seeing the object for the last time there was a time span of 8-10 minutes where nothing had been seen. Then directly to our right(west) a distinctly familiar figure appeared, the ghostly face of an early morning deer. After Brad mentioned that the deer was there to our right i got the glass up for a closer look and DAMN!!! I could only see the face of this deer and at least 14 inches of a G2 slowly scanning the field above the grass, looking for the buck that rudely grunted in his territory. After sitting quietly and positioning the 300 for the kill to be, i waited, for ten minutes this guy scanned the area looking for his competition. After determining that it was no longer present, or had moved on, the buck turned due west and began to move directly away from us. This presented the perfect opportunity to raise my rifle and prepare to get a look his body condition. Once he had moved to about 120 yds from us he reached the hay field that had been mowed to roughly six inches height and confirmed what i had hoped, an old mature trophy buck. I knew my time was limited to get this guy positioned before he was gone, so i settled the cross hairs put the grunt tube in my mouth and let out a grunt. He didnt hear it and continued away from me with no shot. Shit, i gotsta get him turned around here, so a gave it another blow with a little more umph and he turned to look at us with agressive curiosity. I quickly placed the cross and squeezed the trigger placing the 178 ballistic tip through the top of his heart and dead center in his right lung. He hit the ground hard, jumped up and ran 20 yards with a serious drag from the right shoulder, where he then rolled and layed.

Brad and I watched to see if any movement could be seen, none, he was in the bag. We climbed out of the stand and walked cautiously toward the buck never taking my eye off of him. I was hoping that it would not shrink as we drew closer, and in fact the opposite was happening. On arrival at the spot of bye-bye, i stood over what was, later to be determined, a 220 lb on the hoof, 176 lb dressed 10 point. He has a 17.25" inside spread, 6.25 basal circ., and a rough score of 135 bc. Needless to say aside from harvesting my does, Im through for the season and its not even november.