Poper
Member
Well, last year I got into hunting camp shortly after noon on opening day and killed my deer after a five minute evening hunt.
This year I arrived in camp with my brother the afternoon before opening day. We set up camp and my son rolled in about 3 hours later.
The plan had us spread out across the family friend's ranch - my son to the north, brother to the central-east and I elected to walk 150 yards or so into an alfalfa field to the south. That field is big, wide open and appears uninviting to deer. I, however, have noted in years past that there is quite a bit of activity of deer coming into the field to feed from the wooded draws and creek bottom to the west. Deer also reside in the shelterbelts around the ranch yard and neighboring ranches to the south and north.
My plan was simple: Walk out to the alfalfa field, pick a haybale, sit, watch, range and pick out a deer.
Well, a half hour before shooting time, I walked out to my selected field. I decided to forgo the haybale and sat with my back to a fencepost along the south side of the shelterbelt. I did do the watching thing and range finding thing with my Sig Sauer 800 rangefinder.
As I walked into the field from the gate from the ranch access driveway, I could see the vague shapes of deer moving away from me, so I walked along the fence line separating the alfalfa field and the shelterbelt for about 120 yards or so. I picked a wood fencepost and sat down with my back to it and stayed very still. Within a few minutes the deer shapes settled down and returned to feeding. Soon a pair of this year's fawns (the deer in this area have been twinning since the last bout of hemmoragic fever killed most of the deer off four years ago) appeared to my left about 60 yards or so away. The nearer one noticed me but I could tell she didn't know what I was, but she did know I didn't belong there. The slightest movement or sound brought her head up and she would stare at me for a minute or so and then return to feeding, all the while edging closer and closer, and eventually, she was within 15 yards of me.
After sitting for 20 minutes or so, I spotted a large bodied buck out beyond several hay bales that ranged 236.6 yards and he appeared to be angling his way towards the gate I had entered the field through. Another 10 minutes, and it would be shooting time according to the state's deer season regulations.
I continued to watch this buck without moving my head but occasionally ranging other deer out in front of me. Each little movement drew the attention of the little doe to my left and seemed to enhance her curiosity.
The buck began moving a little faster and apparently more deliberately towards the gate at about 70 yards and at an angle to my right of about 60 degrees. As I am right handed, this presented a rather clumsy shot. It was shooting time and I could clearly see the buck's antlers were mature and bases fairly heavy. Doubting I would see a bigger buck this trip I decided to take the shot.
When I lifted my Tikka T3 Lite in .270 Winchester to my shoulder and brought it on target, the buck paused and swung quartering towards me - I'm thinking my motion got his attention. As he stopped his turn and stood still, my crosshairs found the spot immediately behind his front leg and I squeezed the trigger. The electronic Walker ear protection deadened the rifles blast as I saw the yellow flame in the scope as it jumped from the muzzle. The buck jumped straight up and shook from stem to stern, (performing his "death dance" as we call it) let out a grunt and bolted for the open gate. Reaching the gate, he made a sharp left turn and ran full tilt along the fence line between the fence and a stand of scrub brush and trees. When he reached the end of the trees, he disappeared. 'Oh, crap,' I thought, 'the bugger turned and headed across the ranch access road and into the neighbor's posted property. Just what I need - how to explain to the not too friendly neighbor why I am field dressing a reasonably big buck on his wooded property?!'
Within seconds of my shot, the wooded valley with the creek in the bottom echoed with the shots of the other hunters that were not a part of our camp but were utilizing the "Walk-In" area same as we were. That little wooded valley and creek bottom attracts hunters better than it does deer!
Certain the buck was fatally hit by the 130 grain Speer HotCor bullet with a chronographed muzzle velocity of 3,122 f.p.s., I decided to sit and wait for full light before attempting to track him.
I watched other deer across the alfalfa field occasionally ranging them. 280 yards. 366 yards. 243 yards.... The twins had left the immediate vicinity at the sudden movement when I turned to shoot the buck but were standing at the far end of the shelterbelt at 288 yards away (ranged for fun).
After a half hour or so of deer watching and range finding deer, haybales and trees, I decided it was time to find that buck. I found the disturbed ground where he had jumped and bolted, but no blood. I walked slowly to the gate opening all the while looking for a blood trail. Nada. I turned down the fence line following the path I believed the buck traveled before disappearing and with in 25 yards I spotted his antlers (4x6) in the tall grass along the fence. He had piled up at the end of the scrub brush and trees where I thought he had made a dash for the posted property to the west. He was "fully expired", as my dad would have said.
My bullet had entered his right side between the first and second ribs passing through his heart and lungs before exiting about three inches behind the last rib on his left side.
He was a darn big bodied deer and, by the broken tines on his rack, quite the fighting tough guy.
I field dressed him, then walked back to camp (about 250 yards or so), got a length of rope and returned to the buck to drag him to camp. Just as I got to the buck I heard the rancher's truck start up so, using my head for a change, I walked back to the ranch yard and asked him if he would be kind enough to haul my buck back to the barn so I wouldn't have to drag him. 'Of course', he said and then he helped me hang him from the rafters, too.
My son shot his deer (a spike) about an hour later and my brother got his (a bigger buck than mine) an hour after that.
And there we were. All tagged out well before noon on opening day!
This year I arrived in camp with my brother the afternoon before opening day. We set up camp and my son rolled in about 3 hours later.
The plan had us spread out across the family friend's ranch - my son to the north, brother to the central-east and I elected to walk 150 yards or so into an alfalfa field to the south. That field is big, wide open and appears uninviting to deer. I, however, have noted in years past that there is quite a bit of activity of deer coming into the field to feed from the wooded draws and creek bottom to the west. Deer also reside in the shelterbelts around the ranch yard and neighboring ranches to the south and north.
My plan was simple: Walk out to the alfalfa field, pick a haybale, sit, watch, range and pick out a deer.
Well, a half hour before shooting time, I walked out to my selected field. I decided to forgo the haybale and sat with my back to a fencepost along the south side of the shelterbelt. I did do the watching thing and range finding thing with my Sig Sauer 800 rangefinder.
As I walked into the field from the gate from the ranch access driveway, I could see the vague shapes of deer moving away from me, so I walked along the fence line separating the alfalfa field and the shelterbelt for about 120 yards or so. I picked a wood fencepost and sat down with my back to it and stayed very still. Within a few minutes the deer shapes settled down and returned to feeding. Soon a pair of this year's fawns (the deer in this area have been twinning since the last bout of hemmoragic fever killed most of the deer off four years ago) appeared to my left about 60 yards or so away. The nearer one noticed me but I could tell she didn't know what I was, but she did know I didn't belong there. The slightest movement or sound brought her head up and she would stare at me for a minute or so and then return to feeding, all the while edging closer and closer, and eventually, she was within 15 yards of me.
After sitting for 20 minutes or so, I spotted a large bodied buck out beyond several hay bales that ranged 236.6 yards and he appeared to be angling his way towards the gate I had entered the field through. Another 10 minutes, and it would be shooting time according to the state's deer season regulations.
I continued to watch this buck without moving my head but occasionally ranging other deer out in front of me. Each little movement drew the attention of the little doe to my left and seemed to enhance her curiosity.
The buck began moving a little faster and apparently more deliberately towards the gate at about 70 yards and at an angle to my right of about 60 degrees. As I am right handed, this presented a rather clumsy shot. It was shooting time and I could clearly see the buck's antlers were mature and bases fairly heavy. Doubting I would see a bigger buck this trip I decided to take the shot.
When I lifted my Tikka T3 Lite in .270 Winchester to my shoulder and brought it on target, the buck paused and swung quartering towards me - I'm thinking my motion got his attention. As he stopped his turn and stood still, my crosshairs found the spot immediately behind his front leg and I squeezed the trigger. The electronic Walker ear protection deadened the rifles blast as I saw the yellow flame in the scope as it jumped from the muzzle. The buck jumped straight up and shook from stem to stern, (performing his "death dance" as we call it) let out a grunt and bolted for the open gate. Reaching the gate, he made a sharp left turn and ran full tilt along the fence line between the fence and a stand of scrub brush and trees. When he reached the end of the trees, he disappeared. 'Oh, crap,' I thought, 'the bugger turned and headed across the ranch access road and into the neighbor's posted property. Just what I need - how to explain to the not too friendly neighbor why I am field dressing a reasonably big buck on his wooded property?!'
Within seconds of my shot, the wooded valley with the creek in the bottom echoed with the shots of the other hunters that were not a part of our camp but were utilizing the "Walk-In" area same as we were. That little wooded valley and creek bottom attracts hunters better than it does deer!
Certain the buck was fatally hit by the 130 grain Speer HotCor bullet with a chronographed muzzle velocity of 3,122 f.p.s., I decided to sit and wait for full light before attempting to track him.
I watched other deer across the alfalfa field occasionally ranging them. 280 yards. 366 yards. 243 yards.... The twins had left the immediate vicinity at the sudden movement when I turned to shoot the buck but were standing at the far end of the shelterbelt at 288 yards away (ranged for fun).
After a half hour or so of deer watching and range finding deer, haybales and trees, I decided it was time to find that buck. I found the disturbed ground where he had jumped and bolted, but no blood. I walked slowly to the gate opening all the while looking for a blood trail. Nada. I turned down the fence line following the path I believed the buck traveled before disappearing and with in 25 yards I spotted his antlers (4x6) in the tall grass along the fence. He had piled up at the end of the scrub brush and trees where I thought he had made a dash for the posted property to the west. He was "fully expired", as my dad would have said.
My bullet had entered his right side between the first and second ribs passing through his heart and lungs before exiting about three inches behind the last rib on his left side.
He was a darn big bodied deer and, by the broken tines on his rack, quite the fighting tough guy.
I field dressed him, then walked back to camp (about 250 yards or so), got a length of rope and returned to the buck to drag him to camp. Just as I got to the buck I heard the rancher's truck start up so, using my head for a change, I walked back to the ranch yard and asked him if he would be kind enough to haul my buck back to the barn so I wouldn't have to drag him. 'Of course', he said and then he helped me hang him from the rafters, too.
My son shot his deer (a spike) about an hour later and my brother got his (a bigger buck than mine) an hour after that.
And there we were. All tagged out well before noon on opening day!
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