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<blockquote data-quote="hutchsc" data-source="post: 3042338" data-attributes="member: 76857"><p>Tales above are such a joy to read and I've enjoyed them so much! Memories to carry for sure and thanks for sharing these great adventures.</p><p></p><p>A memorable moment for me occurred 5 years ago. I'm 67, and have been hunting for 10 years. Truly a newbee, comparatively speaking of course. I shot my first deer, a little guy, in November of 2014, at the age of 58. Over the next few years, I shot some spikes and does. Hoping to eventually encounter a buck with a decent rack of antlers, I plodded along with enthusiasm on the successes I'd had and the fun of being in the woods. In 2017, I'd purchased a TC muzzleloader so I could partake of that 10 day season as well. Shot a good sized doe with this gun from my climber in 2018. In 2019, early october, I'd hunted in a few locations up on some ridges I'd had success on, but the weather this time of year, different than most Octobers was cooking hot. On another part of the property I hunted is a creek. I decided to hunt the late part of the day at the creek, where water was available. I got my stuff I needed and hiked ~1/3 mile to the creek, climbed down the embankment (about a 15-18ft drop) to a small sandbar and set my 4 fiberglass poles, camo burlap around the poles and my chair, muzzleloader and shooting rest. The creek, normally 50-80 ft wide when regular water flow was running, is now 10-12' wide, and hence the sandbar availability. I had visibility up the creek of ~250yds. At about an hour before sunset, a doe came down the neighboring property embankment and moved through the creek towards the property I was hunting on. She was a good ways off and because of the curve in the creek, she was lost from view quickly. It sure was hot this day and sweat was trickling from my brow. Shortly after, a buck came down the same embankment and when he reached the creek, he layed down, with only his head and nice antlers above. I assume he and his lady had had a little fun and he needed to chill his belongings. I had my leupold, at max power trained on him. He was a nicely antlererd buck and I ranged the fallen tree right behind him at 153 yds. I waited, 5 minutes, 15 minutes, 25 minutes, for him to afford a possible shot. The crik in my neck was intense. Thirty five minutes after laying in the water, he rose and walked up on to the sandbar. He was broadside and shook the water from his coat, and, when he shook, I fired. There was no wind this day. The smoke from my muzzleloader hung in front of me like a curtain. I had no clue what happened. The smoke drifted away so I could see, in, I'm guessing 10-15 sec and I saw nothing but creek at this point. Still staring for a clue, all of a sudden, the buck popped up out of the water and went to the right towards my property, and with the curve in the creek, was now out of sight. Packed up my stuff, reloaded the smoke pole and headed down the creek. Where the creek curved and I'd last had a glimpse of him, I got there and found him about 20 yds from where he was shot. I was elated. My first well antlered buck, 7 point, 16" wide, not a monster but I was happy. Twas a good moment. The embankment was about 45 degree incline, maybe 25 ft long. Didn't think I could make the drag solo. Hopped a barbwire fence, walked back to my John Deere gator so I could make the trek around to pick him up. When I got to the gator, cows had surrounded it. I'd had an almost empty bag of corn in the bed and three cows had it directly in front of the machine, desperately trying to tear the bag open to get at the bit of corn left inside. I put my stuff in the gator, fired it up and thought, if one of these cows swallows that nylon bag, it is probably going to kill it. Owners of my hunting property would not be happy. I backed up the gator about ten feet and hit the gas headed at the cows. They scattered, dropping the bag. Was surprised how quick they were. Stupid me drove right over the bag and stopped, couldn't reach it. Backed up again. They came right back to the bag! I hit the gas again, they scattered and I turned hard to the right, reached down grabbed the bag. When I picked it up, it was fully covered in cow drool, joy, and I flung the dripping bag into the bed of the UTV. Wiped the slime off my hand and drove around the wooded section, bisected by the barbwire fence, got to the creek embankment where my buck was, snaked my winch cable thru the barbwire that lined the creek, and drug my buck where I could manage him. Whatta an adventure for this old man! </p><p></p><p>Good times to remember, keep dancing long as you can! Sorry if I got a little windy on this post</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="hutchsc, post: 3042338, member: 76857"] Tales above are such a joy to read and I've enjoyed them so much! Memories to carry for sure and thanks for sharing these great adventures. A memorable moment for me occurred 5 years ago. I'm 67, and have been hunting for 10 years. Truly a newbee, comparatively speaking of course. I shot my first deer, a little guy, in November of 2014, at the age of 58. Over the next few years, I shot some spikes and does. Hoping to eventually encounter a buck with a decent rack of antlers, I plodded along with enthusiasm on the successes I'd had and the fun of being in the woods. In 2017, I'd purchased a TC muzzleloader so I could partake of that 10 day season as well. Shot a good sized doe with this gun from my climber in 2018. In 2019, early october, I'd hunted in a few locations up on some ridges I'd had success on, but the weather this time of year, different than most Octobers was cooking hot. On another part of the property I hunted is a creek. I decided to hunt the late part of the day at the creek, where water was available. I got my stuff I needed and hiked ~1/3 mile to the creek, climbed down the embankment (about a 15-18ft drop) to a small sandbar and set my 4 fiberglass poles, camo burlap around the poles and my chair, muzzleloader and shooting rest. The creek, normally 50-80 ft wide when regular water flow was running, is now 10-12' wide, and hence the sandbar availability. I had visibility up the creek of ~250yds. At about an hour before sunset, a doe came down the neighboring property embankment and moved through the creek towards the property I was hunting on. She was a good ways off and because of the curve in the creek, she was lost from view quickly. It sure was hot this day and sweat was trickling from my brow. Shortly after, a buck came down the same embankment and when he reached the creek, he layed down, with only his head and nice antlers above. I assume he and his lady had had a little fun and he needed to chill his belongings. I had my leupold, at max power trained on him. He was a nicely antlererd buck and I ranged the fallen tree right behind him at 153 yds. I waited, 5 minutes, 15 minutes, 25 minutes, for him to afford a possible shot. The crik in my neck was intense. Thirty five minutes after laying in the water, he rose and walked up on to the sandbar. He was broadside and shook the water from his coat, and, when he shook, I fired. There was no wind this day. The smoke from my muzzleloader hung in front of me like a curtain. I had no clue what happened. The smoke drifted away so I could see, in, I'm guessing 10-15 sec and I saw nothing but creek at this point. Still staring for a clue, all of a sudden, the buck popped up out of the water and went to the right towards my property, and with the curve in the creek, was now out of sight. Packed up my stuff, reloaded the smoke pole and headed down the creek. Where the creek curved and I'd last had a glimpse of him, I got there and found him about 20 yds from where he was shot. I was elated. My first well antlered buck, 7 point, 16" wide, not a monster but I was happy. Twas a good moment. The embankment was about 45 degree incline, maybe 25 ft long. Didn't think I could make the drag solo. Hopped a barbwire fence, walked back to my John Deere gator so I could make the trek around to pick him up. When I got to the gator, cows had surrounded it. I'd had an almost empty bag of corn in the bed and three cows had it directly in front of the machine, desperately trying to tear the bag open to get at the bit of corn left inside. I put my stuff in the gator, fired it up and thought, if one of these cows swallows that nylon bag, it is probably going to kill it. Owners of my hunting property would not be happy. I backed up the gator about ten feet and hit the gas headed at the cows. They scattered, dropping the bag. Was surprised how quick they were. Stupid me drove right over the bag and stopped, couldn't reach it. Backed up again. They came right back to the bag! I hit the gas again, they scattered and I turned hard to the right, reached down grabbed the bag. When I picked it up, it was fully covered in cow drool, joy, and I flung the dripping bag into the bed of the UTV. Wiped the slime off my hand and drove around the wooded section, bisected by the barbwire fence, got to the creek embankment where my buck was, snaked my winch cable thru the barbwire that lined the creek, and drug my buck where I could manage him. Whatta an adventure for this old man! Good times to remember, keep dancing long as you can! Sorry if I got a little windy on this post [/QUOTE]
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