Missouri’s “Alternative Methods” season opened this past Saturday which meant I would be out in the woods trying to kill a deer with my new 62 caliber flintlock rifle. I had recently purchased this gun and really wanted to break it in this season. I made the trip to my family farm Friday night where Dad and I planned our assault for the next day.
Saturday morning, I hunted at a place we call the Deer Turnaround which is located on a hardwood ridge that borders the western edge of our southern field known as the Granny Field. The hunt was a bust but as I was driving back to Dad’s house, I saw two does about 100 yards from me standing in the creek that parallels the road. They were near a spot called Fort Badger where deer typically cross the creek and enter our middle field. I stopped my truck and waited to see what the deer would do. They immediately bolted out of the creek and ran back into Bee Tree Holler. I continued onto the house, ate some lunch, and planned for my afternoon hunt.
I decided to try my luck hunting our fields and set up in a tree that is at the end of a finger of trees that stick out about 100 yards into our middle field. I was about 50 yards south of another finger of trees whose western end is where Fort Badger is located. There is a pinch point in that field that deer habitually cross through going to Woodland Holler to the west or our neighbor’s hay field to the east. That hunt was a dud as well, but I did get to listen to a large flock of turkeys get busted up where I had hunted that morning. By the amount of racket they made, and the length of time they made it, I guessed there were at least a thousand birds on that ridge. They were still raising cane when I left for the evening to go back home and lick my wounds.
Sunday morning, I decided to hunt the same spot I had hunted the afternoon before but when I got to my location, the wind was all wrong for it. So I headed further south and went to hunt the Granny Field. I drove across the creek, parked my truck and climbed up into the ladder stand located on the east side of the field. As it started to get light, I noticed black blobs in the trees across the field from me. That flock of turkeys I had heard the day before were all roosted across from me. I got to watch them pitch down and then come out in the field to feed about an hour later. I videoed them off and on and even got a mouth call out of my pack and messed with them a little. We eventually grew bored with one another and they finally went back up on the ridge.
Here's some video of that encounter
Around 10:30, I decided to call it a hunt and got down from the stand. I didn’t think I would be able to come back before the season closed but I wasn’t too disappointed because I already had two deer in the freezer. I drove back to Dad’s on the same route as I had the morning before and had just started thinking about seeing those two does in the creek when I saw a single deer standing in the same spot. I stopped my truck like I did before but this time the deer didn’t run off. It looked at me for a bit and then turned around and started walking up the creek. That was all the encouragement I needed! I immediately jumped out, grabbed my smokepole, and started quickly sneaking up the road for an ambush. I was about 40 yards from Fort Badger, where I suspected the deer would appear, when the little doe poked her head through the brush and crossed the road. I hunkered down and lowered my head as she gave me a glance and then jumped off into the finger of trees on the other side of the road. Game on! I figured she would exit the brush on the other side and start to cross the field. Using that finger as a break, I stealthily walked up the road keeping my eyes peeled for my quarry. My plan was to pop out on the other side of the strip of brush and take my shot at the deer as it walked across the field.
As I got closer to Fort Badger, I kept looking for movement and was seeing nothing and when I peeked around the finger of brush there was no deer to be found. I can’t say that I was really surprised by the disappearing act, but I would have thought I would have seen the white flag signaling I had gotten busted. Not ready to concede defeat just yet, I turned around and peered into the brush to see if my target was anywhere to be seen. Right there in front of me, at a distance of 20 yards, was the little deer looking back at me. I really didn’t like my shot angle, but I knew that it was the best I was going to get. I aimed for a point at the rear of her right shoulder, pulled back the hammer, and squeezed the trigger.
The young deer shot out of the brush and through the blue smoke I noticed she was carrying her left back leg as she crashed down the creek bank, crossed the water, and piled up on the gravel bar. My immediate thought was that I had somehow botched the shot and now had to deal with a suffering, crippled deer. I ran back to my truck as fast as I could to get reloaded. In my haste to stalk the deer, I had left everything behind but my rifle.
When I started the walk back, I could see that the deer wasn’t moving which gave me a little hope and as I waded the creek to reach the gravel bar, it was obvious that the deer was dead. The hanging back leg mystery was solved when I stood over my prize. The big .60” ball had entered the front shoulder where I had aimed, went front to back through the body, exited on the left side of the belly and hit the left back leg on the way out, completely breaking the bone in two. Wow! I also saw that my doe was a little button buck. After I gave thanks to the little feller’s spirit for the meat he would provide my family, I put a rope around his neck, dragged him back across the creek, and loaded him up in the truck. It was two days before Christmas, so I considered the entire affair an early present to myself. I got to blood a new rifle, spend time with my Dad, and put some more homegrown free ranging meat in my freezer. Ole Santa Claus is gonna have to work hard to top that!
Saturday morning, I hunted at a place we call the Deer Turnaround which is located on a hardwood ridge that borders the western edge of our southern field known as the Granny Field. The hunt was a bust but as I was driving back to Dad’s house, I saw two does about 100 yards from me standing in the creek that parallels the road. They were near a spot called Fort Badger where deer typically cross the creek and enter our middle field. I stopped my truck and waited to see what the deer would do. They immediately bolted out of the creek and ran back into Bee Tree Holler. I continued onto the house, ate some lunch, and planned for my afternoon hunt.
I decided to try my luck hunting our fields and set up in a tree that is at the end of a finger of trees that stick out about 100 yards into our middle field. I was about 50 yards south of another finger of trees whose western end is where Fort Badger is located. There is a pinch point in that field that deer habitually cross through going to Woodland Holler to the west or our neighbor’s hay field to the east. That hunt was a dud as well, but I did get to listen to a large flock of turkeys get busted up where I had hunted that morning. By the amount of racket they made, and the length of time they made it, I guessed there were at least a thousand birds on that ridge. They were still raising cane when I left for the evening to go back home and lick my wounds.
Sunday morning, I decided to hunt the same spot I had hunted the afternoon before but when I got to my location, the wind was all wrong for it. So I headed further south and went to hunt the Granny Field. I drove across the creek, parked my truck and climbed up into the ladder stand located on the east side of the field. As it started to get light, I noticed black blobs in the trees across the field from me. That flock of turkeys I had heard the day before were all roosted across from me. I got to watch them pitch down and then come out in the field to feed about an hour later. I videoed them off and on and even got a mouth call out of my pack and messed with them a little. We eventually grew bored with one another and they finally went back up on the ridge.
Here's some video of that encounter
Around 10:30, I decided to call it a hunt and got down from the stand. I didn’t think I would be able to come back before the season closed but I wasn’t too disappointed because I already had two deer in the freezer. I drove back to Dad’s on the same route as I had the morning before and had just started thinking about seeing those two does in the creek when I saw a single deer standing in the same spot. I stopped my truck like I did before but this time the deer didn’t run off. It looked at me for a bit and then turned around and started walking up the creek. That was all the encouragement I needed! I immediately jumped out, grabbed my smokepole, and started quickly sneaking up the road for an ambush. I was about 40 yards from Fort Badger, where I suspected the deer would appear, when the little doe poked her head through the brush and crossed the road. I hunkered down and lowered my head as she gave me a glance and then jumped off into the finger of trees on the other side of the road. Game on! I figured she would exit the brush on the other side and start to cross the field. Using that finger as a break, I stealthily walked up the road keeping my eyes peeled for my quarry. My plan was to pop out on the other side of the strip of brush and take my shot at the deer as it walked across the field.
As I got closer to Fort Badger, I kept looking for movement and was seeing nothing and when I peeked around the finger of brush there was no deer to be found. I can’t say that I was really surprised by the disappearing act, but I would have thought I would have seen the white flag signaling I had gotten busted. Not ready to concede defeat just yet, I turned around and peered into the brush to see if my target was anywhere to be seen. Right there in front of me, at a distance of 20 yards, was the little deer looking back at me. I really didn’t like my shot angle, but I knew that it was the best I was going to get. I aimed for a point at the rear of her right shoulder, pulled back the hammer, and squeezed the trigger.
The young deer shot out of the brush and through the blue smoke I noticed she was carrying her left back leg as she crashed down the creek bank, crossed the water, and piled up on the gravel bar. My immediate thought was that I had somehow botched the shot and now had to deal with a suffering, crippled deer. I ran back to my truck as fast as I could to get reloaded. In my haste to stalk the deer, I had left everything behind but my rifle.
When I started the walk back, I could see that the deer wasn’t moving which gave me a little hope and as I waded the creek to reach the gravel bar, it was obvious that the deer was dead. The hanging back leg mystery was solved when I stood over my prize. The big .60” ball had entered the front shoulder where I had aimed, went front to back through the body, exited on the left side of the belly and hit the left back leg on the way out, completely breaking the bone in two. Wow! I also saw that my doe was a little button buck. After I gave thanks to the little feller’s spirit for the meat he would provide my family, I put a rope around his neck, dragged him back across the creek, and loaded him up in the truck. It was two days before Christmas, so I considered the entire affair an early present to myself. I got to blood a new rifle, spend time with my Dad, and put some more homegrown free ranging meat in my freezer. Ole Santa Claus is gonna have to work hard to top that!
