The deer season approached with the usual odd mix of anticipation, anxiousness and dread. About two weeks before the season I walked Mike's property. Deer sign was not good at all, several of the reliable runs were almost hard to see. There were only a couple scrapes and I saw very few rubs. But I'm happy with a doe, so I was still looking forward to venison in the freezer.
Just like the year previous, I had the day before the opener off and went out to put my stand up. This did get me more excited since the weather was nice and after getting my stand set up, I did climb it to make sure it looked good. Instead of my usual "2-tree" I went down into the area between the creeks. Because of the steep hills, this area is harder to hunt. But the deer runs did look better in this area.
The rest of the Friday before the season was spent watching Seinfeld reruns. I enjoyed this, but was also saying that hunting is going to be a better thing to be doing with my time.
Opening morning came with me watching the clock until the older dog started barking, "It is time to eat!" I watched TV with the dogs before getting ready and heading out. Temperatures were right near freezing which isn't too bad, but forecast highs were only near 40 with considerable wind. Being low in the valley will help with the wind. I was on the road at 5:45.
Once at Mike's I headed down to my stand and easily got up in the tree; I was able to do so without breaking a sweat which was nice. There was just a hint of icy snow on the treestand reminding me that winter really is coming. Sitting in the darkness was really nice - it always is. Between everything being wet and the creeks running, I wasn't going to be able to hear much. Slowly it got lighter. In the darkness I saw a small racoon run right by the creek. I always say these things are running recon for the deer when I see them while commuting in the morning, so I assume they do the same in the woods.
Right at first light I noticed a few deer off to the east (I was facing south, so this was left). It was dark enough and with enough distance and brush that it was hard to see well, but I distinctly saw a buck making a scrape. I'm not sure I've ever seen this before. He must have got bored with it and turned to destroy a tree with his antlers. As it got lighter, I was able to make out at least two bucks chasing a doe. Eventually the doe high-tailed it across the ravine to the west, taking the bucks with her.
There was a considerable amount of shooting through the morning, but most of it wasn't too close. And I either saw the same deer several times, or lots of deer. Either way, I was sufficiently entertained. I did attempt to put the cross hairs on a few of them, but brush and distance were not cooperating. I also had two does come right down the hill behind me to my left. They were very close and I would have shot one, but they moved too quickly to be able to.
Finally I saw a buck headed toward me. I'm not sure if he was one of the ones I saw previously or not, but I didn't wait too long to tell. He was extreme quartering toward me when I put my crosshairs on his shoulder and let loose a handloaded Nosler. He was dead before he hit the ground and didn't move at all.
I got out of my treestand and walked over. He was a pretty nice 10-point. Not a monster, but not a bad deer at all. I almost feel guilty sometimes that a deer like this would have at one point in my life gotten me all jacked up. I'm still quite happy, but not as excited as I once would have been.
I drug him closer to the trail and packed out my stuff, returning with my knives to field dress him.
Then the work really started as I dragged him out. It actually took longer to do this than the time I was in the treestand. When I got to the bottom of the hill below my truck, I went up to drop my knives off. Making my way back down, I saw another buck standing in the creek about 10 yards away from my deer. He seemed happy with the condition of his competition. And the one that got away appeared a little bigger. So it goes.
I recently turned 50 and that last hill let me know this ... mercilessly.
When I was about 15 yards from the top, I felt a streak of lightning in my back as I heaved the deer. That last 15 yards was absolutely brutal. Then I stood there trying to figure out how to get him in my truck with my back in severe pain. Thankfully Mike yelled if I needed help. I think his help goes way beyond land-owner duties, but it was very kind of him.
Back at home SO helped me a bit with the deer after getting a few more pictures. The neighbor's dog Sweet Tea came over too; she was interested, but less helpful.
Sunday was spent processing the deer. I took my time both because my back was still on fire and because I wanted to get as much meat as possible. I did recover my bullet which is probably the first time I've ever recovered a 30.06 bullet from a deer. The bullet hit and went through most of the shoulder before lodging near the base of the brisket. I suppose it is still a bit unexpected to recover the bullet, but that is a lot of animal to get through. Recovered weight was 98grains (60%).
The ballistic tip is probably one of the more contentious bullets out there, but the bullet is not the same beast that was originally introduced in 1984. Given the amount of damage to the deer, including heavy shoulder bone, this is stellar performance (albeit n=1).
By the following morning, my back was doing a bit better, but I wasn't so sure it would tolerate a treestand, let alone dragging another one out. I may see about going after the squirrels Mike hates so much instead if timing for that works out.
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Belated Edit:
I ended up boiling out the skull since I still had a few days off. I had a hard time getting the base of the skull as clean as I could have liked, but I know from experience that it will be fine once I let it dry completely. I thought it turned out well, although I am not sure what, exactly, I am going to do with it.
