Post by Shorthair on Nov 16, 2003 19:07:38 GMT -5
It’s a very embarrassing story but I did something yesterday I have never done in 27 years of deer hunting. I lost a wounded deer. We trailed it over a mile with a “birddog” and two beagles trained to bay. I have been very depressed and out of sorts since yesterday when this sorry incident occurred. I was very apprehensive about telling too.
Here is the story as best I remember it. On the second hunt of the morning the dogs ran a deer my way. I was set up in the pines right off the logging road behind a clear cut. I was sitting in between a spot where three deer trails converged. Suddenly the deer appeared coming down one of the paths leading to where I was set up. All I could see was rack! The deer got within 30 yards and must have smelled me (I cooked breakfast at the clubhouse that morning). I already had the bead of my shotgun on his chest and when flared to the right I pumped two 3.5” 00 buckshot into him. He piled up right there and I said whooooo dammitson! He was kicking a little and I could see he was fatally hit, or so I thought, so I didn’t rush over to him so he wouldn’t try to jump and run again. As the dogs got there I went over to him to keep them off of him but the dogs never even winded him and kept going. The buck started to kick a little more so I got ready to shoot again if he got up. As I approached him to get a good look at him he tries to get to his feet and I pumped another round into his chest and he dropped again. He was still breathing as I approached again and he jumped up again and took a few steps before I could shoot back down again. He piled up and knew he was done this time. I had to run to my bucket to get more shells. I reloaded just in case and went to go where he was lying. The joker jumps up again and again I shoot him back down. Ok he’s done this time. I go and get my bucket to bring to the road so I don’t forget it when the truck comes to pick me up. As I’m heading to the road I look over to admire my buck, that is going to put me in the lead on the big buck contest, and I see this man of a deer jump up like he was never hit and take off running across the clear cut.
I stand there in disbelief. I waited a couple of minutes as I take off my insulated stuff to go into the clear cut to look for this dead deer I know is laying out there. I find no deer and go back to wait for the truck so they can radio a dogman and we can turn a dog loose to find this dead deer. I mean no deer can take that much buckshot and live, right? I get back to my clothes and stuff and there comes a Walker. I get him on the trail and off we go. Now I‘ll find my trophy. We go across the clear cut again and he strikes the trail. He starts sniffing and yipping a little likes he’s on it. We get across the clear cut and he hits the warm trail as we get to some tall pines and off he goes howling. I say all right when he stops he’s found my buck. Well he don’t stop. In fact he picks up more dogs and another race is on. I say he can’t be on my deer that deer might be mobile but he ain’t up for no race.
I go back to where my bucket is and wait for the truck to pick me up. I tell them what happened and to get us some dogs to find this deer. The dogmen show up and we go to where the dog took off on the hot trail. We put a dog out and he finds the trail of my deer. He jumps the deer up ahead of us several times and each time we find blood where the deer and been laying trying to die I guess. We get two more dogs trained to bay involved in this futile search. Well we trailed that deer for a mile through the woods and through a wet weather pond and back almost to where we started at. We lost he blood about 400 yards from where I shot him down originally after making a very large circle. Now there is a deer out there that had to die a slow miserable death because of me, a big buck with a rack of 8 points or more and outside his ears width.
What was I thinking? Why didn’t I go over to the deer while he was still dazed and shoot him in the chest point blank and prevent this whole sorry story. I have been over this thing in my mind a thousand times and the only thing I can come up with is…….buck fever. I got too excited about killing a big deer that I lost sight of my years of experience and did something moronic.
Here is the story as best I remember it. On the second hunt of the morning the dogs ran a deer my way. I was set up in the pines right off the logging road behind a clear cut. I was sitting in between a spot where three deer trails converged. Suddenly the deer appeared coming down one of the paths leading to where I was set up. All I could see was rack! The deer got within 30 yards and must have smelled me (I cooked breakfast at the clubhouse that morning). I already had the bead of my shotgun on his chest and when flared to the right I pumped two 3.5” 00 buckshot into him. He piled up right there and I said whooooo dammitson! He was kicking a little and I could see he was fatally hit, or so I thought, so I didn’t rush over to him so he wouldn’t try to jump and run again. As the dogs got there I went over to him to keep them off of him but the dogs never even winded him and kept going. The buck started to kick a little more so I got ready to shoot again if he got up. As I approached him to get a good look at him he tries to get to his feet and I pumped another round into his chest and he dropped again. He was still breathing as I approached again and he jumped up again and took a few steps before I could shoot back down again. He piled up and knew he was done this time. I had to run to my bucket to get more shells. I reloaded just in case and went to go where he was lying. The joker jumps up again and again I shoot him back down. Ok he’s done this time. I go and get my bucket to bring to the road so I don’t forget it when the truck comes to pick me up. As I’m heading to the road I look over to admire my buck, that is going to put me in the lead on the big buck contest, and I see this man of a deer jump up like he was never hit and take off running across the clear cut.
I stand there in disbelief. I waited a couple of minutes as I take off my insulated stuff to go into the clear cut to look for this dead deer I know is laying out there. I find no deer and go back to wait for the truck so they can radio a dogman and we can turn a dog loose to find this dead deer. I mean no deer can take that much buckshot and live, right? I get back to my clothes and stuff and there comes a Walker. I get him on the trail and off we go. Now I‘ll find my trophy. We go across the clear cut again and he strikes the trail. He starts sniffing and yipping a little likes he’s on it. We get across the clear cut and he hits the warm trail as we get to some tall pines and off he goes howling. I say all right when he stops he’s found my buck. Well he don’t stop. In fact he picks up more dogs and another race is on. I say he can’t be on my deer that deer might be mobile but he ain’t up for no race.
I go back to where my bucket is and wait for the truck to pick me up. I tell them what happened and to get us some dogs to find this deer. The dogmen show up and we go to where the dog took off on the hot trail. We put a dog out and he finds the trail of my deer. He jumps the deer up ahead of us several times and each time we find blood where the deer and been laying trying to die I guess. We get two more dogs trained to bay involved in this futile search. Well we trailed that deer for a mile through the woods and through a wet weather pond and back almost to where we started at. We lost he blood about 400 yards from where I shot him down originally after making a very large circle. Now there is a deer out there that had to die a slow miserable death because of me, a big buck with a rack of 8 points or more and outside his ears width.
What was I thinking? Why didn’t I go over to the deer while he was still dazed and shoot him in the chest point blank and prevent this whole sorry story. I have been over this thing in my mind a thousand times and the only thing I can come up with is…….buck fever. I got too excited about killing a big deer that I lost sight of my years of experience and did something moronic.
