Veteran’s Day has long been one of my favorite days to be in the deer woods. It began in ’97 when I elected to skip my college classes and take advantage of the fresh 6 inches of snow that was falling overnight. Okay, I tried to justify the day of hookie by maintaining that I was upset that Veteran’s Day wasn’t significant enough to have no classes (I’m a vet) – but I confess that I just really wanted to go hunting that day. Glad I did, as I was able to still-hunt my way to a heavy/dark 11 pointer that now graces my livingroom wall.
So then, fast forward about 13 years to last Thursday. Veteran’s Day. Heavy rain had fallen the previous afternoon and by sunrise there was a steady wind. Great conditions for a still-hunt.
After a brisk 1 1/2 mile pre-dawn hike, I settled into my one-step-at-a-time pace on an abandoned logging road. Scarcely 20 minutes into shooting light, movement caught my eye about 50 yards ahead of me. A deer was crossing the trail I was hunting on. As his head entered my field of vision, I saw a heavy main beam and the ‘o6 was on its way to my shoulder. The fluid movement of shouldering the Remington was abruptly interrupted. A quick glance down revealed the cord of my grunt call was caught on the bolt of the rifle. In what could have been described as a panic (to the causual by-stander), I freed the cord, shouldered the rifle and took aim as the deer stepped through the narrow opening before me.
The shot echoed through the century-old Norway Pines and the deer was instantly out of sight. Crash-crash-crash-CRASH. Silence.
Must be down. Has to be. I’d still hear him if he was moving. Felt like a good shot.
I paced 55 yards to the point where he was walking when I shot and found a line of blood. 40 yards down the hill I saw white tips sticking out of a snag of brush. At this point, I had now idea of the size of the buck. Just knew it was mature and had what seemed to be a heavy main beam. Probably a nice 8. Could be a 10, I suppose.
As I approached the deer – my hands began to tremble. I had know idea. The palmated antlers (I can’t get my hand around the mainbeams between the G2s and G3s) and nice length in the brow tines (5″). 11 points and this thing has character.
As with any animal, I offered my prayers of thanks. Thanks for the life of this magnificant animal. Thanks for the meat it will provide my family. Thanks for the adrenalin coursing through my veins. Thanks for my aim being true. And a humble recognition that I am undeserving of such blessings.
Having neglected to carry my camera with me that day (wanted to spare the wieght and thought it might bring me some luck), I turned on my cell phone to snap a few photos. I was suprised to see that I had signal – so I called my wife and suggested to her that she stop any Christmas shopping she may have in store for me as we will be facing a taxidermy bill in the near future.
After gutting him out, I hiked to a buddy’s stand to share with him my story (and solicit his help in hanging the deer). He had a camera so we were able to snap a few fresh photos.
Yes – Veteran’s Day. The 11th day of the 11th month. My second 11-pointer harvested on it. Any guesses as to my new lucky number?
