While hunting was on my mind, I wasn't sure until I started to get ready that I was actually going to go. It was cool but not cold and windier than I would have liked. I was partially going hunting because I wanted to, but partially because I thought I should. I bundled up and grabbed everything I thought I needed and headed out the door. I kept shifting back and forth as to whether I should abandon my spot of the entire hunting season and sit in the ravine, or stay true to what I new was at least an OK location. In the end, I chose to stay in the same stand I had been in the previous week, qualifying that I would sit in the ravine on Friday. Well past the half-way point to Mike's, I realized I had not brought my hunting knives. Oh well, I won't need them anyways.
Getting set up in the daylight was easy and in short order I was nestled in my treestand. Slightly protected by the wind, I was quite comfortable. My mind wandered around but wasn't fixated on anything except that this hunting season was feeling a little futile. Still, I was enjoying the time in the woods. Mike had emailed and said he was out but that his family holiday would be later in the weekend.
Not much was moving, not even the squirrels and I was looking forward to heading home as dark approached. No doubt Thanksgiving turkey and stuffing will taste great. Right around sundown I heard the unmistakable footsteps behind me and to the right (northwest) and snuck a look back to see a doe. She jolted her head up towards me and stared - busted - but then she continued meandering on her intended path unconcerned. She was headed on a trajectory towards a very good location for me. As she continued closer, my brain said was asking, "Should I shoot? It will make Thanksgiving dinner late? There are no hunting knives!"
I didn't rush the shot but let her walk into the crosshairs. -BOOM-
She ran downhill a short stretch in a manner that told me she was hit hard and just over the ridge. I thought I could see her, but in the shadows of near dark it was hard to tell. After a few minutes, I got out of the treestand and walked in her direction. As I did, I saw a white butt bounding away on the opposite ridge. *&^%$%^&**&^%
Nope, much like my antelope a few months earlier, that was another animal. My doe had died within a very few short seconds. I packed up my stuff and headed to my truck; now what?
I dug around in my glovebox and found a small bottle opener/corkscrew/pen knife. Yes, I field dressed her with it. It wasn't easy since it was also very dull. Surprisingly, it was a very clean job since the shot was good and the small crappy knife made me work very deliberately.
Dragging her back to the truck was exhausting and sweaty work. After the short stretch downhill, the straight stretch between the ravines was painful. That final long steep hill toward Mike's house was a monumental effort. I tried using my truck tow strap around her arms to make it easier, but it didn't work well. It was beyond pitch black by the time I made it to the top of the hill and had her in the truck bed.
Indiana has a nice online check-in system which made that task very easy on Thanksgiving night.
To some, this might be "just a doe." But, I've been in a whitetail drought the last couple years. Even without that, I couldn't be happier.
It was quite dark, cold and late by the time she was hung in the pole barn. Not all of Thanksgiving dinner was cold, but it would definitely be a Thanksgiving to remember.
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Belated note: I had noticed a wound on the deer hind quarter. While skinning her, I had ruled out my initial though of it as a previous grazing bullet wound from another hunter. While cutting the meat off, the disc in the picture below fell out. I am shooting Winchester XP3 slugs and the disc is part of the Winchester Area Multiplier Sabot. It must have hit her at an oblique angle and slid just under the skin. Probably a one in a million chance, but interesting all the same.
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