4x3 plus eye guards
Ronnie's Swale
5:00 PM
following a doe
.257 Rbts
1 shot (and no coup de grace, David) (not even one, Guy)
prone
100 yd slide !!!
50 min. butcher
60 pound pack
50 min hike
Sandy, it landed exactly --exactly-- where your mounted & sketched buck did.
Paul, the reason I removed that landmark digger pine several years ago was so that I could see this boy!
Bill's Story:
"Taking this buck made use of all of my years of experience, reading, stalking skills, etc.
I walked down to the Hook, pausing to make bare-assed obeisance to the dryad inhabiting one of the oaks. Within a couple of minutes I saw a doe standing in one of the higher clearings on the back side. She stood there, alone, for a few minutes, then went behind some foliage. While continuing to scan I kept one eye on the clear spot she'd been in, and saw a buck step out. I saw a fourth point that was not a tweak, scrunched forward to my traditional prone over the block on the rock, and saw no deer in my scope.
The buck was first seen at lower dot, moved to upper dot, where shot, then slid as indicated.
Soon the doe came into view higher up, about where that pine used to obscure, soon followed by the buck. He zigged, and then zagged to near broadside. I blew on my call to stop him (since his one goal was to keep near that doe), had to blow again, louder, and he stopped and turned toward me, looking mighty regal. I fired. He fell and began what seemed to be a never-ending roll, disappearing from view. After the dust and noise cleared I saw no activity, so headed to the cabin.
I put together my kit, wrote a note for Ted, who was hunting on lower Matteoni.
I drove out to the top of the Swale. I left one of my Talkabouts on the hood of the Bronco and headed down (& down & down). I couldn't keep footing following the slide, but saw no blood in what I could get near. But I was relieved to see him dead down below.
I took some pics and then dove in. Had a couple of brief showers; I covered my rifle with the pack. Got the tenders via a cut made behind the ribs. Reached up to explore for bullet path (and took the heart while there).
The bullet entered vertical center in front of the left shoulder, and took out a few ribs on the way into the 'boiler room'. No heart damage, got lung, and as far as I know neither exited nor went through the diaphragm.
I timed the job but didn't rush - 50 minutes (excluding the explorations). Made two knuckles bleed while sawing the knobby antlers off. Got into the pack, crossed the hill to the gully (with a whole lot of sliding on scree), and began the ascent. The only bad parts were wherever I had to go uphill. It was dark by the time, 50 minutes later, that I arrived at the road above Oak Park. I dropped my pack, got the car, and had just finished loading when Ted's flashlight appeared (NOW he shows up!).
That's it - another buck of luck."
Hercules grosses in the teens. Being a fork, he couldn't be high. Mass is his thing. The Buck of Luck is 140;1 gross B&C
(nets in the Awards book, not the All-Time). 19 1/4 outside width. Its tallosity fools me into thinking it's not wide. Missing the point that would be considered the main beam ruins my net score; I get a double-whammy, losing some 7 inches extra in deduction.
| "Outstanding! I can't think of anyone more deserving of such a fine trophy." - Eric | "Impressive!" - Ted | |
| "Nice buck, Bill!" - Paul | "Incredible!" - David | |
"Whoa!! That's really sumpin." - Guy |
"GREAT BUCK!!! Congrats! And it only took one shot, too. Hummmmm....how does he do it?!?!?!?" - Sandy | |
Ted's story:
More from Bill:
I've finished most of my butchering. I wasn't keeping a log of the measurements of Sandy's deer's fat but I'm thinking my guy had less (not only big but pumped!). He had some -I've seen worse- but not enough to raise comment.
Speed of quartering is not the entire goal (weather permitting). I challenge everyone to sack up meat as clean as I get, in whatever time.
I didn't think to inspect my fella's teeth. I'm no aging expert but perhaps I could have gotten an impression (rat-tat!).
While Ted & I were lounging in the evening, up cozily close to the fire, I checked the thermometer hanging from the roof of my Bronco. I believe it read about 45 degrees. Nice!
On arrival, I hung out on top to let Ted hunt down the road. He had one fork on the way and a view of a 3-ptr (at min) harassing some does on North Flat. When he got down there he popped around the corner of the Norga tubs but saw nothing at all, and didn't pursue lest he boof things away.