It was opening day of deer season in 1971. We had at least 18 inches of snow around Thanksgiving. I was on the Lewis Dunbar farm in Canton; along with Larry Feist and John Mosher. Larry was 100 yards away on my left; John about the same distance on my right.
At just about legal shooting time, 0642 hours, a huge buck appeared just below my stand along a stone wall; just 25 to 30 yards away. It was easy to see his rack in the white snowy background. I fired one shot from my .243 and simply waited. Then things got really interesting.
Just minutes later another buck showed up. I was pretty sure that I had killed my buck already, but I could not see him as he ran after my shot. Now what? First thing that I learned was unless you can see your dead deer, stay put for the first hour of the first day; so that is what I did.
Things got even more interesting when three other bucks and about eight does showed up. I could see them both from looking over the three foot high stone wall and peering between some of the stones. They got very close and simply bedded down. I could actually see them chewing their cuds, just like cows do.
At 0800 I could not stand it any longer so I simply stood up. The deer erupted and ran in all directions. I was hoping that a buck might go toward Larry or John. I went to the spot where the buck was when I shot. I could see a spray of blood and simply followed the trail just another 25 yards; and there he lay. He was a nine point with an 18 inch spread; the largest buck I ever killed.
When I called out to Larry, somewhat softly, he answered right away. He of course heard me shoot and he did see some of the deer that I flushed; but no bucks. He when over to John and got the same report. I told the fellows simply to continue hunting and would gut the deer and wait for them. At around 1130, they got hungry and so down the hill we went; one guy carrying 3 rifles and the other two dragging the deer. In the deep snow it took quite awhile to get to the vehicle.
It was truly a fine hunting day for me and both of my deer hunting brothers; certainly a day that I shall never forget’ just 44 years ago.
Next time, we will tell you about the great small game hunt of 1983. When you hit your knees tonight, thank all of those serving in the military, both past and present. We are responsible for your freedom. Nuff said!
Jim Collins is an outdoor writer for this newspaper. To contact him, email jimcollinsinsurance@frontiernet.net; or write to him at Outdoors With Jim Collins, 87 Windfall Road, Alba, PA 16910.