Art Eatman
Moderator In Memoriam
The last mulie I killed was at no more than 25 yards; maybe a bit less. I walk pretty quietly, and he didn't hear me until I was just starting up from a rocky creek bottom. He had been napping in a narrow telephone line pathway. When he first raised his head I didn't think he was really all that good. But, fair horns. Then he sorta stretched his neck for a better view (all he could see were my head and shoulders) and when I saw how big his neck was, Bang! But he only dressed out at 150 pounds. Ate good, though.
I had a doe lie down under the little tree stand I was sitting on, one time. Eight or ten feet below me. I just dropped pieces of bark on her, trying not to laugh at the way her hide wriggled at each hit.
Then there was my wet-day buck that I trailed and sneaked up to. From about ten feet, I hit him on the rump with a marble-sized rock. Highly entertaining rodeo ensued.
I had a doe lie down under the little tree stand I was sitting on, one time. Eight or ten feet below me. I just dropped pieces of bark on her, trying not to laugh at the way her hide wriggled at each hit.
Then there was my wet-day buck that I trailed and sneaked up to. From about ten feet, I hit him on the rump with a marble-sized rock. Highly entertaining rodeo ensued.