Please forgive the long winded diatribe, but OP has stirred up ancient thoughts....
Brings back fond memories...
I 've only hunted over bait two seasons. I don't begrudge anyone who gets out hunting/shooting whatever you call it. Good on them. It's about the experiences and memories, right? After all is said and done, one day, all we have it heads on the wall, pictures, and hopefully a sound mind that can remember how we obtained them....
My brother and I were roughnecks on a drilling rig out of Austin TX in '74. Our motorman, Woody, told us that he worked as a part time ranch foreman for the 17,000 acre Johnson Ranch, as in Lyndon B. Johnson. Said It had sold to a group of 11 lawyers who hunted it rarely.
Woody told us he needed help so Bro & I bucked 1500 bales of hay outta the fields in a pickup cuz the ground was too wet for tractors Paid $0.10/bale. Took 4 days of our long change days off to finish the job.
Back then, doe tags were allocated per land acreage. Woody gave us a hand full wad of doe tags tall enough that a show dog couldn't jump over, and said shoot all you want, we'll get more! We sat in a metal blind 10' above ground equipped w/ heaters, ice chest for beers, shooting ports, and two large leather recliners. About 100 yds. away, (never stepped it off and didn't have range finders in those days), was a battery operated feed thrower. Every evening about 5pm corn dropped out of the hopper and onto a spreader that spun around and dished it out. Made a little whirring noise. Deer would come a-runnin'!
We couldn't shoot the bucks, but we had all the doe meat we could eat. A welcome addition to the table for two broke rig hands! Kept us in the chips for two seasons till the well was drilled and we moved on.
That memory is special not only because I shared it with my brother, but we took turns shooting with the "03-A3 sporter my mother had bought my father the summer before he passed. He never got to shoot it, sadly.
I'm now gettin' long in the tooth and staring at the last deer hunt.
I was married at 27, birthday on the 27th, and if I have a favorite # it's 27.
So far this crippled up old roughneck has killed 26 deer over the years......saving the last for the sunset hunt.
I plan to spend the 24 pts. in CO w/ an outfitter who will put my fat butt on a horse and lead me out to where the big boys play so I can let the air outta one of 'em . 27 and done.
Nimrod, thanks for resurrecting this memory!