- Joined
- Oct 31, 2014
- Messages
- 485
- Reaction score
- 667
Such a busy year left nearly no time to hunt. With Ohio's Muzzleloadeing Season upon me I took the only afternoon available yesterday to enjoy the warmth of 26°. Much better than the low single digits we've been experiencing.
Over looking a large field with the woods to my left and the south wind in my face I truly emmersed myself in the brief time to spend at a new spot to hunt. As the wind died down with the setting sun my mind realized that the horizontal form against the brush at the field's edge was the first deer spotted for the evening. 31 years of hunting hasn't diminished the pleasure of this sight. She fed into the open field as a few behind her stayed closer to the trees. Far across the field a could more does slowly browsed the soybean fodder after appearing from the SE fence line. All were way too far for the reach of the 50 caliber round ball tightly loaded in the Blue Ridge long rifle laying in my lap. My binoculars were better used to take in the scenery. Eventually they all drifted toward the NE into the folds of the land.
Twenty minutes left of legal light. Time to partake in a bit of stalking, my favorite form of hunting. Not far along the woods edge a snort alerted me of a deer around a blind spot, just out of sight. A few more steps on my part and the year and a half old buck bolted out into the field directly away. Loudly I bleated until I saw his telltale stride slowing down. The rifle was quickly brought to bear as the buck turned sideways. As the shot broke his neck he dropped like a sack of potatoes. Confession is good for the soul: no, I wasn't trying for a neck shot but this is what transpired. One more ball at close range through the chest completed the deed. Another successful season. Meat in the freezer. Memories to cherish. It was an exceptional Sunday afternoon.
Over looking a large field with the woods to my left and the south wind in my face I truly emmersed myself in the brief time to spend at a new spot to hunt. As the wind died down with the setting sun my mind realized that the horizontal form against the brush at the field's edge was the first deer spotted for the evening. 31 years of hunting hasn't diminished the pleasure of this sight. She fed into the open field as a few behind her stayed closer to the trees. Far across the field a could more does slowly browsed the soybean fodder after appearing from the SE fence line. All were way too far for the reach of the 50 caliber round ball tightly loaded in the Blue Ridge long rifle laying in my lap. My binoculars were better used to take in the scenery. Eventually they all drifted toward the NE into the folds of the land.
Twenty minutes left of legal light. Time to partake in a bit of stalking, my favorite form of hunting. Not far along the woods edge a snort alerted me of a deer around a blind spot, just out of sight. A few more steps on my part and the year and a half old buck bolted out into the field directly away. Loudly I bleated until I saw his telltale stride slowing down. The rifle was quickly brought to bear as the buck turned sideways. As the shot broke his neck he dropped like a sack of potatoes. Confession is good for the soul: no, I wasn't trying for a neck shot but this is what transpired. One more ball at close range through the chest completed the deed. Another successful season. Meat in the freezer. Memories to cherish. It was an exceptional Sunday afternoon.
