- Joined
- Mar 28, 2005
- Messages
- 300
Sorry double posted there!
-
The BladeForums.com 2024 Traditional Knife is ready to order! See this thread for details: https://www.bladeforums.com/threads/bladeforums-2024-traditional-knife.2003187/
Price is$300$250 ea (shipped within CONUS). If you live outside the US, I will contact you after your order for extra shipping charges.
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Buck Knife Give Away!!!
- Thread starter 110 Dave
- Start date
- Joined
- Jun 26, 2007
- Messages
- 1,508
Well Dave, if you can get to central Texas sometime between now and the first of the year and will buy an out of state license, I will take you deer hunting and absolutely guarantee you some venison to return home with!! Of course, you can probably buy a lot of filet mignon for what that would cost, but sometimes the experiences are worth more than the money.
- Joined
- May 6, 2004
- Messages
- 8,151
:my friend tin!!! what an invite !!!
and so happens i will be in Dallas dec to watch daughter get her MBA from SMU..
but will only be there 4 or 5 days
yep i remember how much the out of state license was!!!
a friend called doc used to have a 600 acer lease east of stevensville, he had that lease for 12 years with no issues and only seen the owner when he paid him - he and i shared the cost for 2 years then i took it over when he moved ... i let a guy from work buy in and he went to the owner and i lost the lease ...nothing on paper so nothing i could do ... have not been hunting sence... that was in 1990 ...i never was so hot at some one ...
and so happens i will be in Dallas dec to watch daughter get her MBA from SMU..
but will only be there 4 or 5 days
yep i remember how much the out of state license was!!!
a friend called doc used to have a 600 acer lease east of stevensville, he had that lease for 12 years with no issues and only seen the owner when he paid him - he and i shared the cost for 2 years then i took it over when he moved ... i let a guy from work buy in and he went to the owner and i lost the lease ...nothing on paper so nothing i could do ... have not been hunting sence... that was in 1990 ...i never was so hot at some one ...
- Joined
- May 6, 2004
- Messages
- 8,151
well tin i could'nt pick out which to bring!!!! BTW:
i was a telling tin of a story of one of my last adventures with a friend called doc .. he said
" That story sounds as if it should win a knife on the blade forum contest!!!"
well i dont want to win my own knife back but as he thought it good enugth to tell me to enter to win i figured i would share my embarsement with all of youa'l:
TIN ....i miss just sitting in the woods at dawn wateing and watching the world wake up!
of the 10 years i lived in texas i went huntting 8 of them....
my friend doc i went with for 6 of thoes years and he used to tell some wild tales ....
one of the funiest (he told others when i was around ) was one that happened to me!
i had jest left his house and got on the paved road... when a car hit a deer , about a 6 point , on the road in front of me and i stoped and picked it up, i noticed they were turning around ... i guess to do the same... but left...
and here i was a thinking " wow .. i done got me some easy meat!"
so i turned around and headed stright back to doc's place and was going to ask him to show me how to fully dress and skin it ....
he asked me if it was dead and i said "hell yes it's dead !" and to show him i droped the tail gate .... now here at this time doc was a saying he did not see were i cut it's neck and ta be ...
and Jest at this time i reached in and grabed the buck by both hind legs pulled it half out and the deer ,
woke up and i was so secared i could not let go!!!!
here i was with a grunting snorting mad as hell critter with sharp things on its head and he was a trying to get a grip and i was also!!!
after a LONG long few min it seemed to me the deer and i came to a angreement .... he would stop kicking and scearring the shit of me for a second if i woulld jest let go of his hind feet...
soon as he was still for a moment i heard old doc say run and i did and so did the buck... and i watched my easy meat hightail it past doc's house as i picked my self up off'n the ground!
i heard some thing else and i turned and there was doc, he was a bent over and jest a laffing so hard he.... was a holding his sides and a saying over and over as he pointed at me
" why hell yes it's dead "... "ya should seen your face ...."
doc laffed many times in retelling the tale with the look on my face being his knee slaper!
i miss doc ... last time i was in TX i stoped in to say hello and was told he moved again ... no one knew were... i am sure he still tells of me and my dead deer...
and yes i did have a 110 with me but was in back pocket... and 124 behind seat...
neather of which i thought of useing when i should have...
I don't know if this is a true story or not but here goes:
Three men showed up at the pearly gates of heaven. The guardian angel saw that the first one had a 120 IQ and told him "You're going to love it here. We have the largest religious library ever created and you may also ask God any questions that you might have.
The angel sees that the second guy has a 160 IQ and tells him, " You're going to love it here. We have the largest religious library ever created and also a class on Social Interaction".
The angel sees that the third guy has a 75 IQ and tells him, " You're going to love it here sir. Deer season opens in two weeks! ".
Three men showed up at the pearly gates of heaven. The guardian angel saw that the first one had a 120 IQ and told him "You're going to love it here. We have the largest religious library ever created and you may also ask God any questions that you might have.
The angel sees that the second guy has a 160 IQ and tells him, " You're going to love it here. We have the largest religious library ever created and also a class on Social Interaction".
The angel sees that the third guy has a 75 IQ and tells him, " You're going to love it here sir. Deer season opens in two weeks! ".
- Joined
- May 6, 2004
- Messages
- 8,151
yep some thing for every one...
but i dont know on da hunting...
ya gots to be smarter then da deer!
and they are right smart!
most bucks have a bachlers digree of avoideance at the very lease !
many a masters level in disaperance
and some a doctors (PHD) deseration on never be seen!!!
why i under stand some very few are even teachers of doe's !
its is no wander a hunter has to be smarter and smarter and
conversant in the latest very High tech gear!!!
how many Jeathro's know carbon camo is not ..
but i dont know on da hunting...
ya gots to be smarter then da deer!
and they are right smart!
most bucks have a bachlers digree of avoideance at the very lease !
many a masters level in disaperance
and some a doctors (PHD) deseration on never be seen!!!
why i under stand some very few are even teachers of doe's !
its is no wander a hunter has to be smarter and smarter and
conversant in the latest very High tech gear!!!
how many Jeathro's know carbon camo is not ..
- Joined
- May 7, 2004
- Messages
- 603
I never got past first class scout in the BSA. We moved back to Canada shortly after I attained that distinction. In Canada I joined the Sea Cadets where I learned to splice rope with a marlin spike but that is another story for another thread.
Right in the middle of New Jersey is a scout camp called Alamoochi (sp?). The last summer I lived in the States I went to Alamoochi for two weeks. The first night there the members of my tent all decided to go snake hunting. We were in fact young idiots at the time so it is not really surprising how things turned out. First we caught a good sized frog. We tied a piece of string to the leg of the frog and staked it in a little clearing. We all got pointy forked sticks (some of them were undoughtedly made using Buck knives though I did not have a Buck until much later (Buck Content)). The sticks were actually quite pathetic. None of us had ever done this before. We waited and watched. I remember it being a long wait. Finally things happened. The bait was taken. We all rushed forward with our pointy sticks. The snake was pined, kinda. Someone turned on a flash light and we realized we were in real trouble. What we had was four pointy sticks not holding a three foot long copperhead very well at all. The only thing that saved us was that the copperhead had a hold of the frog and was not letting go. We had no idea what to do. We all agreed that we needed all four sticks to hold the snake so no one could go for help. I remember this being a long wait too. The snake was pissed. We were scared. Finally a bunch of little kids found us. Most of the camp had been turned out to look. A scout master showed up. Found a decent forked stick and pinned the snakes head so he could get a decent hold on the creature. The snake spent the summer in a cage in front of the mess hall and for a while we were sort of heros but we all knew we had all been scared shirtless, hero indeed.
Right in the middle of New Jersey is a scout camp called Alamoochi (sp?). The last summer I lived in the States I went to Alamoochi for two weeks. The first night there the members of my tent all decided to go snake hunting. We were in fact young idiots at the time so it is not really surprising how things turned out. First we caught a good sized frog. We tied a piece of string to the leg of the frog and staked it in a little clearing. We all got pointy forked sticks (some of them were undoughtedly made using Buck knives though I did not have a Buck until much later (Buck Content)). The sticks were actually quite pathetic. None of us had ever done this before. We waited and watched. I remember it being a long wait. Finally things happened. The bait was taken. We all rushed forward with our pointy sticks. The snake was pined, kinda. Someone turned on a flash light and we realized we were in real trouble. What we had was four pointy sticks not holding a three foot long copperhead very well at all. The only thing that saved us was that the copperhead had a hold of the frog and was not letting go. We had no idea what to do. We all agreed that we needed all four sticks to hold the snake so no one could go for help. I remember this being a long wait too. The snake was pissed. We were scared. Finally a bunch of little kids found us. Most of the camp had been turned out to look. A scout master showed up. Found a decent forked stick and pinned the snakes head so he could get a decent hold on the creature. The snake spent the summer in a cage in front of the mess hall and for a while we were sort of heros but we all knew we had all been scared shirtless, hero indeed.
- Joined
- Nov 14, 2004
- Messages
- 407
Bounty of Harvest
It all started the week before.
The season had opened and it was another fall with my own yearling in the house (second child, 9m old). I had no time to scout, but I had a couple spots on my neighbors land picked out.
All that week as I arrived home after a long day; 4am Andrew diaper changing, 5am feeding, 6am Samantha is up, 7am off to drop off kids at Daycares (split with wife, we go in opposite directions)... I get home after a longer than usual work day and stare wistfully out the window. I know there are deer out there somewhere.
On Thursday I am supposed to put my stand up and fix my blind to place on the edge of a field. I get home to find out my wife had tweaked her shoulder working out and is out of commission. I cook supper, give the kids baths, get Andrew in bed and then retire to the living room to dream about being out in the woods.
Friday rolls around and I am going through the 'routine' that evening while my wife is waiting to get into the Drs office this upcoming Monday to get her shoulder checked out. By now it is hardly able to move. The phone rings, it is my brother.
"Shawn", he says in a shaky voice while half whispering, "I just arrowed a doe!" He continues,"I finally got a shot on with the Diablo and it felt soooo smooth. She was quartering away hard but I know it was a good shot. It all felt so magical." I ask him if he needs help tracking, though I was not looking forward to the hour drive knowing Mandy would have to deal with two kids with a hurt arm. Marc replies, "Naw. Charlie is coming to help. If we do not find it by 8:30p, I'll give you a call back." Around 8pm, he calls and excitedly tells me he found her. She went about 80 yards and went down. I congratulate him and ask him if Dad is going to help him skin it out tomorrow. Nope, he is busy.
So I offer to go down and help him out and I'll find Mandy help babysitting with the kids. At that point he suggest I pack my bow up and take a turn in the stand. There were three does in the area and they all came in together. He is sure they will come back out, as he has them well timed and they are walking through like clockwork.
I ask Mandy if she would mind if I put an evening in the stand, and she agrees. She does tell me that not only do I need to do, but if I get the chance I need to take the shot. No waiting for the perfect moment. She has seen me shoot and I need to use the skills I have.
The next day I head out in the late morning down to my brothers. As I make the hour trip I am feeling a little pride in the confidence my wife has in me and her actually saying she knows I can make a humane shot even without the broadside. It fills me with confidence as I head down and makes the drive that much more enjoyable.
I arrive around 1pm and help my brother finish processing his deer. It is a nice time chatting about how exactly they came in, how he kept waiting for the broadside, but finally settled on the quartering away. I take a couple pictures for him, and while it looked like he hit it WAY back, the shockwave sliced and diced all the vitals and left the ponch in place. A textbook shot.
I head over to the landowners place at 3:30 and settle in. I sit enjoying the cool breeze (it had been 80 degrees all week, fall in Maine - welcome global warming). I slowly turn my head this way and that, my bow across my lap holding my personally assembled arrows in the quiver. I am shooting Xweave Predators fletched myself with Blazers (2 Orange and a White cock Vane), Bohning Signature Flo Orange Nock and Slick Trick Magnums.
I pull out an arrow and place it in the Whisker Biscuit, and nock it. Staring at the broadhead, I reflect back on the decision to make the switch. Last year I took a buck with a G5 Montec, but the blood trail was less than I would have expected and I just felt my sharpening skills were not good enough to make the most of the broadhead. I bought a couple packs of ST Magnums to try out as an alternative and within my second set of 3, I was hitting 2" squares at 20yds with no tweaking of rest or sights. I was sold.
I sit and wait. In front of me are several old and dying apple trees, still feebly bearing fruit. Several woodpeckers flitter from tree to tree while searching for bugs and soft spots in the trees to find tree worms (or whatever they really are).
Slowly the sun goes down and the sound of traffic slows in the distance. My awareness increases tenfold as the 'right time' approaches. I start scanning more with my eyes, working right to left and slowly turning my head to help my vision reach the tote road to my far left. Time slows down, but it is not boring. It is that time that takes out into the woods. The time where you become part of nature as a predator. Your patience becomes ten fold as you wait. Waiting like a Puma in the trees.
Off to my far right I hear the tell tale sound of a deer. Not surprisingly the small doe has decided to break all the normal rules of access and is coming through the thickest part of the woods instead of the easy tote roads or the two deer trails running parallel to them. I turn my eyes and head slowly, and she is walking straight in. I see that she is small. But, I promised the wife that it was meat I was after and not a trophy. If a deer came out, and did not sport spots, then I would take it.
Slowly she comes in, but relaxed. She walks straight in and under my stand. Stopping for a moment she sniffs the rungs of the ladder stand and sort of glances around. I guess the soles of my 15 year old leather slipper boots (it was so warm I could not wear my 'hunting' boots) did not leave much scent. She then walks out from under the stand and slowly starts walking straight away.
As she comes out from under the stand I wait for her to get out a little and then I stand and turn ever so slowly. Forest Ninja's could not have moved so silently or smoothly. Knowing she could not see at that angle behind her I get myself into position.
She browses a little but slowly continues walking straight out. It is time for a decision! So I wait for her turn? Do I risk her walking straight ahead and under the canopy 30 yards out? I look to my right again (straight ahead of my body now) and check for following does or bucks and see nothing. This is my chance for the evening and I think of my wife back at home, hurt and watching our two kids to give me this chance. I draw.
One of the important pieces of a successful shot is to not change your style. To let your instincts do what you have done dozens, hundreds, thousands of times at home and on the range and in the 3D course (if you are lucky enough to live close). To draw the same, anchor the same, hold the same, and to take the shot when it looks and feels right. Overthink it and you take too long. Get over excited and you shoot too soon. I bring my bow up into the draw (I happen to draw upwards, always have) and line everything up, just like every other time. I envision in my mind where the arrow will go, and aim for the far lung. I ‘see’ the arrow going through to the far leg, down and through.
Without even realizing it my finger smoothly pulls and my Scott Wildcat go off. I see the arrow in flight through my VBG Triangle sight and watch as the arrow strikes HARD. The doe drops instantly and without so much as a kick breathes in and out 4, then 5 times. In the time it take for me to see her drop with the arrow still within her, I have a second arrow out of its quiver and nocked in the rest. Later I would remark to my Dad and brother than my hands just automatically did it, that the next thing I knew I had the bow in the ready position and tension on the dloop. I watch as she takes her last breathe and passes, less than 30 seconds after the shot. I can not express my concern, and then relief that no second arrow would be needed.
As I let my bow down and call my Brother and Dad, I reflect on the shot and wonder if I ‘missed’. I had certainly not intended to spine her. And the arrow not getting pass through had me concerned that I had somehow missed the vitals and hit something harder like the upper scapula. I take great care to respect the doe as I have my Dad take some pictures of where she lay. I give thanks for the bounty and we move the deer off to take care of her in preparation of getting her to the tagging station.
Later, and mostly due to the interest and thoughtful atmosphere of sharing here to help educate ourselves and others, I take special interest in capturing on my camera the entrance, exit, and damage pictures. Upon skinning out the doe I find that my shot was not bad at all. In fact, the arrow passed one blade through the spine, nicked one lung (it did not look like a pull out wound) and punctured the far lung cleanly. There was complete pass through the lower ribs on the far side and the broadhead had actually lodged in the far leg in the lower potion of the shoulder. It was that penetration that required two hands to start the broadhead back out through the body. Interestingly, and maybe it was because it was dark, we had not figured it as a pass through or I would have captured a picture of the broadhead external to the shot.
Attached below are the photo’s that relate to this story.
There are more if people are interested, but these are those that tell the story without being repetitive.
Thank you for the opportunity to share.
Equipment
2006 Diablo NH 65# 26" DL
VBG Triangle w/G5 Peep
WB DX QS
Doinker Multi-Rod 7" D2 Hunter
SIMS Modules as Riser Vibration Dampeners
Scott Wildcat Buckle
Radial XWeave Predator 200s @ 26.75"
Bohning Signature Flo Orange Nocks
Blazer Vanes (2 Flo Orange/1 White)
Slick Trick Magnum 100s
Benchmade Snoddy 210
Buck Woodsman 102
Game
Doe @ 75#s
16yds
Pass Through: Spine/Lung(s), Far Ribs, Lodged in Far Leg
0 Foot Tracking
Supporting Pictures
My second group with Slick Trick Magnum 100s.
I did not shoot a third.
Doe:
It all started the week before.
The season had opened and it was another fall with my own yearling in the house (second child, 9m old). I had no time to scout, but I had a couple spots on my neighbors land picked out.
All that week as I arrived home after a long day; 4am Andrew diaper changing, 5am feeding, 6am Samantha is up, 7am off to drop off kids at Daycares (split with wife, we go in opposite directions)... I get home after a longer than usual work day and stare wistfully out the window. I know there are deer out there somewhere.
On Thursday I am supposed to put my stand up and fix my blind to place on the edge of a field. I get home to find out my wife had tweaked her shoulder working out and is out of commission. I cook supper, give the kids baths, get Andrew in bed and then retire to the living room to dream about being out in the woods.
Friday rolls around and I am going through the 'routine' that evening while my wife is waiting to get into the Drs office this upcoming Monday to get her shoulder checked out. By now it is hardly able to move. The phone rings, it is my brother.
"Shawn", he says in a shaky voice while half whispering, "I just arrowed a doe!" He continues,"I finally got a shot on with the Diablo and it felt soooo smooth. She was quartering away hard but I know it was a good shot. It all felt so magical." I ask him if he needs help tracking, though I was not looking forward to the hour drive knowing Mandy would have to deal with two kids with a hurt arm. Marc replies, "Naw. Charlie is coming to help. If we do not find it by 8:30p, I'll give you a call back." Around 8pm, he calls and excitedly tells me he found her. She went about 80 yards and went down. I congratulate him and ask him if Dad is going to help him skin it out tomorrow. Nope, he is busy.
So I offer to go down and help him out and I'll find Mandy help babysitting with the kids. At that point he suggest I pack my bow up and take a turn in the stand. There were three does in the area and they all came in together. He is sure they will come back out, as he has them well timed and they are walking through like clockwork.
I ask Mandy if she would mind if I put an evening in the stand, and she agrees. She does tell me that not only do I need to do, but if I get the chance I need to take the shot. No waiting for the perfect moment. She has seen me shoot and I need to use the skills I have.
The next day I head out in the late morning down to my brothers. As I make the hour trip I am feeling a little pride in the confidence my wife has in me and her actually saying she knows I can make a humane shot even without the broadside. It fills me with confidence as I head down and makes the drive that much more enjoyable.
I arrive around 1pm and help my brother finish processing his deer. It is a nice time chatting about how exactly they came in, how he kept waiting for the broadside, but finally settled on the quartering away. I take a couple pictures for him, and while it looked like he hit it WAY back, the shockwave sliced and diced all the vitals and left the ponch in place. A textbook shot.
I head over to the landowners place at 3:30 and settle in. I sit enjoying the cool breeze (it had been 80 degrees all week, fall in Maine - welcome global warming). I slowly turn my head this way and that, my bow across my lap holding my personally assembled arrows in the quiver. I am shooting Xweave Predators fletched myself with Blazers (2 Orange and a White cock Vane), Bohning Signature Flo Orange Nock and Slick Trick Magnums.
I pull out an arrow and place it in the Whisker Biscuit, and nock it. Staring at the broadhead, I reflect back on the decision to make the switch. Last year I took a buck with a G5 Montec, but the blood trail was less than I would have expected and I just felt my sharpening skills were not good enough to make the most of the broadhead. I bought a couple packs of ST Magnums to try out as an alternative and within my second set of 3, I was hitting 2" squares at 20yds with no tweaking of rest or sights. I was sold.
I sit and wait. In front of me are several old and dying apple trees, still feebly bearing fruit. Several woodpeckers flitter from tree to tree while searching for bugs and soft spots in the trees to find tree worms (or whatever they really are).
Slowly the sun goes down and the sound of traffic slows in the distance. My awareness increases tenfold as the 'right time' approaches. I start scanning more with my eyes, working right to left and slowly turning my head to help my vision reach the tote road to my far left. Time slows down, but it is not boring. It is that time that takes out into the woods. The time where you become part of nature as a predator. Your patience becomes ten fold as you wait. Waiting like a Puma in the trees.
Off to my far right I hear the tell tale sound of a deer. Not surprisingly the small doe has decided to break all the normal rules of access and is coming through the thickest part of the woods instead of the easy tote roads or the two deer trails running parallel to them. I turn my eyes and head slowly, and she is walking straight in. I see that she is small. But, I promised the wife that it was meat I was after and not a trophy. If a deer came out, and did not sport spots, then I would take it.
Slowly she comes in, but relaxed. She walks straight in and under my stand. Stopping for a moment she sniffs the rungs of the ladder stand and sort of glances around. I guess the soles of my 15 year old leather slipper boots (it was so warm I could not wear my 'hunting' boots) did not leave much scent. She then walks out from under the stand and slowly starts walking straight away.
As she comes out from under the stand I wait for her to get out a little and then I stand and turn ever so slowly. Forest Ninja's could not have moved so silently or smoothly. Knowing she could not see at that angle behind her I get myself into position.
She browses a little but slowly continues walking straight out. It is time for a decision! So I wait for her turn? Do I risk her walking straight ahead and under the canopy 30 yards out? I look to my right again (straight ahead of my body now) and check for following does or bucks and see nothing. This is my chance for the evening and I think of my wife back at home, hurt and watching our two kids to give me this chance. I draw.
One of the important pieces of a successful shot is to not change your style. To let your instincts do what you have done dozens, hundreds, thousands of times at home and on the range and in the 3D course (if you are lucky enough to live close). To draw the same, anchor the same, hold the same, and to take the shot when it looks and feels right. Overthink it and you take too long. Get over excited and you shoot too soon. I bring my bow up into the draw (I happen to draw upwards, always have) and line everything up, just like every other time. I envision in my mind where the arrow will go, and aim for the far lung. I ‘see’ the arrow going through to the far leg, down and through.
Without even realizing it my finger smoothly pulls and my Scott Wildcat go off. I see the arrow in flight through my VBG Triangle sight and watch as the arrow strikes HARD. The doe drops instantly and without so much as a kick breathes in and out 4, then 5 times. In the time it take for me to see her drop with the arrow still within her, I have a second arrow out of its quiver and nocked in the rest. Later I would remark to my Dad and brother than my hands just automatically did it, that the next thing I knew I had the bow in the ready position and tension on the dloop. I watch as she takes her last breathe and passes, less than 30 seconds after the shot. I can not express my concern, and then relief that no second arrow would be needed.
As I let my bow down and call my Brother and Dad, I reflect on the shot and wonder if I ‘missed’. I had certainly not intended to spine her. And the arrow not getting pass through had me concerned that I had somehow missed the vitals and hit something harder like the upper scapula. I take great care to respect the doe as I have my Dad take some pictures of where she lay. I give thanks for the bounty and we move the deer off to take care of her in preparation of getting her to the tagging station.
Later, and mostly due to the interest and thoughtful atmosphere of sharing here to help educate ourselves and others, I take special interest in capturing on my camera the entrance, exit, and damage pictures. Upon skinning out the doe I find that my shot was not bad at all. In fact, the arrow passed one blade through the spine, nicked one lung (it did not look like a pull out wound) and punctured the far lung cleanly. There was complete pass through the lower ribs on the far side and the broadhead had actually lodged in the far leg in the lower potion of the shoulder. It was that penetration that required two hands to start the broadhead back out through the body. Interestingly, and maybe it was because it was dark, we had not figured it as a pass through or I would have captured a picture of the broadhead external to the shot.
Attached below are the photo’s that relate to this story.
There are more if people are interested, but these are those that tell the story without being repetitive.
Thank you for the opportunity to share.
Equipment
2006 Diablo NH 65# 26" DL
VBG Triangle w/G5 Peep
WB DX QS
Doinker Multi-Rod 7" D2 Hunter
SIMS Modules as Riser Vibration Dampeners
Scott Wildcat Buckle
Radial XWeave Predator 200s @ 26.75"
Bohning Signature Flo Orange Nocks
Blazer Vanes (2 Flo Orange/1 White)
Slick Trick Magnum 100s
Benchmade Snoddy 210
Buck Woodsman 102
Game
Doe @ 75#s
16yds
Pass Through: Spine/Lung(s), Far Ribs, Lodged in Far Leg
0 Foot Tracking
Supporting Pictures
My second group with Slick Trick Magnum 100s.
I did not shoot a third.
Doe:
- Joined
- Feb 26, 2007
- Messages
- 566
Well written Shaman! How much did the doe weigh, looks to be this years crop?
- Joined
- Nov 14, 2004
- Messages
- 407
75lbs, and yes this year.
Wouldn't dare trying to win the prize with an 'old' tale.
Dined on her gift last night in fact.
Was excellent meat.
- Joined
- Feb 26, 2007
- Messages
- 566
Here is a true non traditional hunting story that occurred in central Maine
Leo, much to the chagrin of his wife, likes to hang out with the boys at the local watering spot on Friday nights in the town of Solon, ME. As usual, he stays until closing time says goodbye to his friends, gets in his truck for the ride home. As he lives in a nearby town, most of the ride home is on wooded gravel roads, and since it is real easy to see oncoming traffic at night, he is driving fast as he knows these roads. (Not that there is much traffic at 1:30 am on a Saturday morning)
Leo rounds a corner, probably driving a little too fast, his truck headlights freeze a beautiful doe in the middle of the road. Unable to stop he strikes the doe with the plow frame on the front of his truck and knocks her to the ground. Leo backs his truck up a bit, parks it and gets out. He climbs down from the cab, truck still running glances at the front of the truck, relieved that there was no damage to the front of his truck, he turns his attention on the doe.
The doe is a decent sized deer, he estimates about 120 pounds, she is still breathing and showing signs that she is starting to come to -- that the impact with the truck just dazed her. Being the resourceful woodsman that he is and avid hunter, his Buck 110 is always on his belt and kept very sharp. He withdraws his Buck, opens it and in one smooth motion, he slits her throat. Leo then slides his new found venison to the back of the truck and lifts her onto the tailgate, then into the bed of the truck. Just as he completes this task, a car drives by illuminating his operation, he recognizes the driver.
As in many states, in Maine any deer killed by a vehicle strike can be kept, however it is supposed to be reported to the local fish and game warden. He had planned on driving the last 2 miles home, and hanging her in his work shop, and not saying anything to anybody.
However, since there was a witness he decided to report it to the warden first thing in the morning. The game warden arrives a couple of hours later; heads back to the workshop with Leo carefully studies the doe, and says: You know, I think she might have made it if you hadnt slit her throat. Leo looks thoughtful for a moment, turns to the warden and responds with his soft Maine accent Ayuh, thats what I was afraid was going to happen!. The warden, realizing there was nothing he could do, just shook his head and left.
Leo rounds a corner, probably driving a little too fast, his truck headlights freeze a beautiful doe in the middle of the road. Unable to stop he strikes the doe with the plow frame on the front of his truck and knocks her to the ground. Leo backs his truck up a bit, parks it and gets out. He climbs down from the cab, truck still running glances at the front of the truck, relieved that there was no damage to the front of his truck, he turns his attention on the doe.
The doe is a decent sized deer, he estimates about 120 pounds, she is still breathing and showing signs that she is starting to come to -- that the impact with the truck just dazed her. Being the resourceful woodsman that he is and avid hunter, his Buck 110 is always on his belt and kept very sharp. He withdraws his Buck, opens it and in one smooth motion, he slits her throat. Leo then slides his new found venison to the back of the truck and lifts her onto the tailgate, then into the bed of the truck. Just as he completes this task, a car drives by illuminating his operation, he recognizes the driver.
As in many states, in Maine any deer killed by a vehicle strike can be kept, however it is supposed to be reported to the local fish and game warden. He had planned on driving the last 2 miles home, and hanging her in his work shop, and not saying anything to anybody.
However, since there was a witness he decided to report it to the warden first thing in the morning. The game warden arrives a couple of hours later; heads back to the workshop with Leo carefully studies the doe, and says: You know, I think she might have made it if you hadnt slit her throat. Leo looks thoughtful for a moment, turns to the warden and responds with his soft Maine accent Ayuh, thats what I was afraid was going to happen!. The warden, realizing there was nothing he could do, just shook his head and left.
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- Feb 7, 2006
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- 4,352
Cool story Woody...
BTW, three can keep a secret if two are dead.
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- Feb 26, 2007
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- 566
Thanks Goose -- Isn't that the truth! I've got one more story inspired by Dave, based on my last camping trip. Will post it, very soon.
Woody
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- Feb 26, 2007
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- 566
This story is about backpacking, a little history of Baxter State Park, friendship and of course Buck knives
Backpacking can be a challenge. Depending on the terrain being traversed and the number of nights you are planning on being out, will help determine the difficultly level. One thing about Backpacking, once you are underway on foot and away from the vehicle, what ever you are bring with you (or not) is what you have to survive on. However, who you bring with you is equally important as friendships can be strengthened or broken based on personalities!
For the past 2 decades (and Ive been at this longer than that), Ive had one friend (Sparky) that we connect for a backpacking trip in the fall to one of my favorite spots on this planet. Baxter State Park, Maine.
But first, a little history about Baxter State Park.
Interestingly, Baxter is not a State Park or a national park, rather a (now) 300,000+ acre independently funded and governed park that was started by one man; Percival Baxter. Percival was born to a wealthy family in Portland Maine, got interested in politics, eventually became one of the youngest governors in the State of Maine.
After first making a trip to Northern Maine in the early 1900s on a fishing trip, he observed Mt Katahdin, Maines highest peak (geographically located in central Baxter State Park). All of this land was owned by the large paper companies in the state and routinely clear cut for the timber resources.
Within 10 years of Percivals first (of many) fishing trip to this region he made it his personal campaign to convert this to a park that could be enjoyed by all. Interestingly, when he started this venture, the heads of the paper companies, and lobbyists hated him, attempted to derail his efforts in every way. The paper companies were concerned that they would loose vital forest land. As governor, and even more so after he left office Percival used his inheritance to buy tracts of land that were then turned into trust. He foresaw that his actions would benefit many over the long term. In the end, those that hated him became his friends as they came to understand his true intentions.
Percival had many notable quotes; my favorite:
Katahdin stands above the surrounding plain unique in grandeur and glory. The works of man are short lived. Monuments decay, buildings crumble and wealth vanishes, but Katahdin in its massive grandeur will forever remain the mountain of the people of Maine. Throughout the ages it will stand as an inspiration to the men and women of this state.
Heres a view of Katahdyn:
So what is the point of this story?
Its the hard work that one man accomplished in the 1900s that make this place what it is today. Baxter is the place where Sparky and I head to locate wildlife, reconnect with nature, go fishing, gather wood, build fires and tell stories. Its one place in the northeast that is not overrun with people, and with a little effort, its possible to spend an entire day without seeing anyone.
This past fall was a great example of our annual trip. We had an 8 mile hike into the first lean-to (three sided shelter), spent the night next to a wide stream, loaded with brook trout and frequented by ducks. Here is the view from the lean-to:
Next day hiked 2.5 miles to an interior pond where we spent the next 2 nights. Excellent fishing here:
Backpacking can be a challenge. Depending on the terrain being traversed and the number of nights you are planning on being out, will help determine the difficultly level. One thing about Backpacking, once you are underway on foot and away from the vehicle, what ever you are bring with you (or not) is what you have to survive on. However, who you bring with you is equally important as friendships can be strengthened or broken based on personalities!
For the past 2 decades (and Ive been at this longer than that), Ive had one friend (Sparky) that we connect for a backpacking trip in the fall to one of my favorite spots on this planet. Baxter State Park, Maine.
But first, a little history about Baxter State Park.
Interestingly, Baxter is not a State Park or a national park, rather a (now) 300,000+ acre independently funded and governed park that was started by one man; Percival Baxter. Percival was born to a wealthy family in Portland Maine, got interested in politics, eventually became one of the youngest governors in the State of Maine.
After first making a trip to Northern Maine in the early 1900s on a fishing trip, he observed Mt Katahdin, Maines highest peak (geographically located in central Baxter State Park). All of this land was owned by the large paper companies in the state and routinely clear cut for the timber resources.
Within 10 years of Percivals first (of many) fishing trip to this region he made it his personal campaign to convert this to a park that could be enjoyed by all. Interestingly, when he started this venture, the heads of the paper companies, and lobbyists hated him, attempted to derail his efforts in every way. The paper companies were concerned that they would loose vital forest land. As governor, and even more so after he left office Percival used his inheritance to buy tracts of land that were then turned into trust. He foresaw that his actions would benefit many over the long term. In the end, those that hated him became his friends as they came to understand his true intentions.
Percival had many notable quotes; my favorite:
Katahdin stands above the surrounding plain unique in grandeur and glory. The works of man are short lived. Monuments decay, buildings crumble and wealth vanishes, but Katahdin in its massive grandeur will forever remain the mountain of the people of Maine. Throughout the ages it will stand as an inspiration to the men and women of this state.
Heres a view of Katahdyn:
So what is the point of this story?
Its the hard work that one man accomplished in the 1900s that make this place what it is today. Baxter is the place where Sparky and I head to locate wildlife, reconnect with nature, go fishing, gather wood, build fires and tell stories. Its one place in the northeast that is not overrun with people, and with a little effort, its possible to spend an entire day without seeing anyone.This past fall was a great example of our annual trip. We had an 8 mile hike into the first lean-to (three sided shelter), spent the night next to a wide stream, loaded with brook trout and frequented by ducks. Here is the view from the lean-to:
Next day hiked 2.5 miles to an interior pond where we spent the next 2 nights. Excellent fishing here:
- Joined
- Feb 26, 2007
- Messages
- 566
We often use this spot as a base camp, to work on our bushwhacking skills, summiting nearby mountains, the views makes the effort worthwhile
Or, taking day hikes as in this one, where just after passing a large pond, we encountered a good size bull moose, who crossed the field with-in 150 ft of our location.
Since he had rounded the corner in the direction we were hiking, we moved on thinking that we may have another photo-op. And, we did! Bull moose had turned around and started coming back our way, acting a little bit frantic! When you see a 1,500 pound animal up close, it does tend to get the heart rate going Sparky took one look and scampered up on a large rock adjacent our location on the trail, so I laugh at him. Meanwhile, Im standing on the trail to get one more pic of this fine beast.
The bull proceeds to head back even closer toward us now, I scamper up on the rock next to my friend (Im not laughing any more). Since it is mating season, it is wise to use caution near these animals as they can be unpredictable. The moose decides to ignore us passing back in the woods toward the pond. I decide to bushwhack into a location near the pond, and downwind so as to not spook the bull. Now I understand why he came back, a female moose was in the pond! We must have scared him a bit when we walked through, then he momentarily lost the location of his mate.
We then followed a 6 mile loop trail onto another section of river, downstream from the lean-to we stayed the first night:
Back at the base camp, time for lunch, when backpacking, food tends to be substantial and easy to prepare. I use my 105 to slice pepperoni, and cheddar served with spicy mustard on pita bread.
Later, we collect firewood with a folding camp saw I usually bring. Im a certified pyro and need to have camp fires when Im in the woods, plus they are great for cooking fresh fish. On this trip, I decide to try out my 105 to split wood maybe not the smartest thing to do, however figure if its a survival situation, I want to know if this would work. Used it on some seasoned sugar maple (hard) that I cut into sticks. Surprisingly it worked fairly well, had to be careful not to hit the black, phenolic handle. Knife was still as sharp after splitting two of these logs:
Then, settling down to a fine evening with a fire, perfect way to end the day, reflect on another year, and, another fine year in the park.
Or, taking day hikes as in this one, where just after passing a large pond, we encountered a good size bull moose, who crossed the field with-in 150 ft of our location.
Since he had rounded the corner in the direction we were hiking, we moved on thinking that we may have another photo-op. And, we did! Bull moose had turned around and started coming back our way, acting a little bit frantic! When you see a 1,500 pound animal up close, it does tend to get the heart rate going Sparky took one look and scampered up on a large rock adjacent our location on the trail, so I laugh at him. Meanwhile, Im standing on the trail to get one more pic of this fine beast.
The bull proceeds to head back even closer toward us now, I scamper up on the rock next to my friend (Im not laughing any more). Since it is mating season, it is wise to use caution near these animals as they can be unpredictable. The moose decides to ignore us passing back in the woods toward the pond. I decide to bushwhack into a location near the pond, and downwind so as to not spook the bull. Now I understand why he came back, a female moose was in the pond! We must have scared him a bit when we walked through, then he momentarily lost the location of his mate.
We then followed a 6 mile loop trail onto another section of river, downstream from the lean-to we stayed the first night:
Back at the base camp, time for lunch, when backpacking, food tends to be substantial and easy to prepare. I use my 105 to slice pepperoni, and cheddar served with spicy mustard on pita bread.
Later, we collect firewood with a folding camp saw I usually bring. Im a certified pyro and need to have camp fires when Im in the woods, plus they are great for cooking fresh fish. On this trip, I decide to try out my 105 to split wood maybe not the smartest thing to do, however figure if its a survival situation, I want to know if this would work. Used it on some seasoned sugar maple (hard) that I cut into sticks. Surprisingly it worked fairly well, had to be careful not to hit the black, phenolic handle. Knife was still as sharp after splitting two of these logs:
Then, settling down to a fine evening with a fire, perfect way to end the day, reflect on another year, and, another fine year in the park.
- Joined
- Jan 27, 2007
- Messages
- 6,518
During Christmas of 1975, my grandfather gave me a bear tooth. I wrote this entry in my journal a few years ago to record some of the details, (in case anything ever happened to me) so my son would know about the tooth, so it's written in a way a young kid could understand it.
The story my grandfather told me, and later told my fourth grade class, went as follows:
He had tracked and shot a fairly large bear. (I'm not sure if grandma was with him or not.) At the shot, the bear stood upright on it's hind legs, looked in grandpa's direction, then dropped down and ran off in the opposite direction. Grandpa tracked it, and eventually caught up with it. Then, things got nasty.
As the story goes, when grandpa got close to the bear again, the bear was either walking toward grandpa, or charging toward him. From what I've read about these situations, the bear was probably in pain, enraged, and charging. The bear had run for a short distance, and the pain of being shot had had time to set in.
Many dangerous game animals, in this kind of situation, usually decide that that obnoxious little pink thing that has caused them pain needs to be eaten. Some hunters in this situation can wind up becoming the hunted and getting killed, either due to the hunters' ignorance of the critter he's hunting, or equipment failure. In my grandpa's case, it started with equipment failure, but, in grandpa's own words, his own ignorance played a part as well.
After that first shot, grandpa's Enfield rifle had 'locked up', or jammed, and was totally useless from that point on, until grandpa got it working again after the hunt. At this stage of the incident, grandpa and the bear were near a huge tamarack pine that had fallen over (probably during a storm) and grandpa was able to climb and/or crawl back into the roots to get away from the bear. The Tamarack (aka lodgepole pine) can grow to 90-120 feet tall, but is usually shorter. Their root structure is enormous, and the roots of the tamarack grandpa crawled into, according to him, was as big around as a small house.
Well, the bear kept coming after him, growling, snorting and roaring, and grandpa had given up trying to get the rifle back into commission. He had two options, as he told the story: use his old army surplus bayonet to fight the bear - which would mean he himself would get mauled and maybe killed in the process - or use his Ruger .22 pistol. He didn't have much confidence in the .22 against a bear. In a normal self-defense situation, against a person, shooting them several times in the head or center-of-mass may stop them, if you know how to shoot. Against an adrenaline charged bear, that's another matter entirely. You'll probably just piss him off even more.
No help was coming, and the bear was obviously not going to stop. It kept coming further into the roots after him, snorting & huffing, getting closer, and in grandpa's words: "I couldn't make myself any smaller." He was already wedged as far back into the roots as far as he could go, and was almost immobile. The bear was only a couple of feet from him, and would reach one of his arms or legs any moment, and probably drag him out and kill him. Grandpa knew he had to do something, or just wait until the bear got to him. After what was probably an eternity of just a few seconds, he made his decision. He already had the .22 in hand, so he made sure the safety was off, and when the bear opened it's mouth and roared again, grandpa started shooting it in the mouth. He shot it at least seven times, or maybe eight; either way, it killed the bear pretty quickly. After a minute or two, when he was sure it was dead, grandpa worked his way around the bear, and back out of the tamarack roots.
He said he was shaking so bad he could barely stand, so he tried to walk - or, in his words, "staggered like I was drunk" - a short distance, then sat down for a while. This was where grandma found him. He had the shakes for hours after that.
Later, as the bear was being prepared by a taxidermist, one of it's teeth - a fang - simply fell out. This is unheard of, according to the taxidermist, and the only explanation was that as the carcass was being moved around after skinning, maybe the bone structure in that area of the mouth had dried out more than usual. Then, if the root of the tooth had dried out too, maybe those two factors combined to make the tooth 'drop out' of its' socket. Another theory was that maybe the shock of being shot several times in the mouth was enough to shake it loose. No one could ever come to an agreement as to the cause.
Whatever the reason, it sure made a heck of a story.
The bear measured out to approx. 69" long, and no one knew the weight, as it was dressed out in the woods. However, at that time of year, and considering the bears' height (length), the taxidermist figured the bear came in at 400-450 lbs.
Hope ya'll enjoyed the story . . .
thx - cpr
The story my grandfather told me, and later told my fourth grade class, went as follows:
He had tracked and shot a fairly large bear. (I'm not sure if grandma was with him or not.) At the shot, the bear stood upright on it's hind legs, looked in grandpa's direction, then dropped down and ran off in the opposite direction. Grandpa tracked it, and eventually caught up with it. Then, things got nasty.
As the story goes, when grandpa got close to the bear again, the bear was either walking toward grandpa, or charging toward him. From what I've read about these situations, the bear was probably in pain, enraged, and charging. The bear had run for a short distance, and the pain of being shot had had time to set in.
Many dangerous game animals, in this kind of situation, usually decide that that obnoxious little pink thing that has caused them pain needs to be eaten. Some hunters in this situation can wind up becoming the hunted and getting killed, either due to the hunters' ignorance of the critter he's hunting, or equipment failure. In my grandpa's case, it started with equipment failure, but, in grandpa's own words, his own ignorance played a part as well.
After that first shot, grandpa's Enfield rifle had 'locked up', or jammed, and was totally useless from that point on, until grandpa got it working again after the hunt. At this stage of the incident, grandpa and the bear were near a huge tamarack pine that had fallen over (probably during a storm) and grandpa was able to climb and/or crawl back into the roots to get away from the bear. The Tamarack (aka lodgepole pine) can grow to 90-120 feet tall, but is usually shorter. Their root structure is enormous, and the roots of the tamarack grandpa crawled into, according to him, was as big around as a small house.
Well, the bear kept coming after him, growling, snorting and roaring, and grandpa had given up trying to get the rifle back into commission. He had two options, as he told the story: use his old army surplus bayonet to fight the bear - which would mean he himself would get mauled and maybe killed in the process - or use his Ruger .22 pistol. He didn't have much confidence in the .22 against a bear. In a normal self-defense situation, against a person, shooting them several times in the head or center-of-mass may stop them, if you know how to shoot. Against an adrenaline charged bear, that's another matter entirely. You'll probably just piss him off even more.
No help was coming, and the bear was obviously not going to stop. It kept coming further into the roots after him, snorting & huffing, getting closer, and in grandpa's words: "I couldn't make myself any smaller." He was already wedged as far back into the roots as far as he could go, and was almost immobile. The bear was only a couple of feet from him, and would reach one of his arms or legs any moment, and probably drag him out and kill him. Grandpa knew he had to do something, or just wait until the bear got to him. After what was probably an eternity of just a few seconds, he made his decision. He already had the .22 in hand, so he made sure the safety was off, and when the bear opened it's mouth and roared again, grandpa started shooting it in the mouth. He shot it at least seven times, or maybe eight; either way, it killed the bear pretty quickly. After a minute or two, when he was sure it was dead, grandpa worked his way around the bear, and back out of the tamarack roots.
He said he was shaking so bad he could barely stand, so he tried to walk - or, in his words, "staggered like I was drunk" - a short distance, then sat down for a while. This was where grandma found him. He had the shakes for hours after that.
Later, as the bear was being prepared by a taxidermist, one of it's teeth - a fang - simply fell out. This is unheard of, according to the taxidermist, and the only explanation was that as the carcass was being moved around after skinning, maybe the bone structure in that area of the mouth had dried out more than usual. Then, if the root of the tooth had dried out too, maybe those two factors combined to make the tooth 'drop out' of its' socket. Another theory was that maybe the shock of being shot several times in the mouth was enough to shake it loose. No one could ever come to an agreement as to the cause.
Whatever the reason, it sure made a heck of a story.
The bear measured out to approx. 69" long, and no one knew the weight, as it was dressed out in the woods. However, at that time of year, and considering the bears' height (length), the taxidermist figured the bear came in at 400-450 lbs.
Hope ya'll enjoyed the story . . .
thx - cpr
- Joined
- May 6, 2004
- Messages
- 8,151
wow i have enjoyed reading these a LOT !
i know hunting season contunes past this time..
but the grand daughter will be drawing a posting number from a hat this week end...
i am starting a new give away this week and must decide on the knife...
it will be the anual sales slogan contest ...
you know were the buck nuts themn selves get to make up any slogon on dependblity on card board , spam cans , life saveing properitys , heartage or old time classic appeal...
CJ has already said he will act as judge and jury on this one so you must appeal to the BOSS !
hee hee he may even use it so all entreys become property of buck...
i know hunting season contunes past this time..
but the grand daughter will be drawing a posting number from a hat this week end...
i am starting a new give away this week and must decide on the knife...
it will be the anual sales slogan contest ...
you know were the buck nuts themn selves get to make up any slogon on dependblity on card board , spam cans , life saveing properitys , heartage or old time classic appeal...
CJ has already said he will act as judge and jury on this one so you must appeal to the BOSS !
hee hee he may even use it so all entreys become property of buck...
- Joined
- May 6, 2004
- Messages
- 8,151
well ... my wife in the kitchen was asked from the computer room to pick a number from 1 to 50 an the first was 49 then the next two she picked were postings i had made!!!
( wouldn't ya know it ... i then had to explain why she had to pick another number !!!)
so one more time and this time she picked number 2
so scott you won... i belive i have your street addy so it will likely be later in the week i get it shiped out..
nice try all you other tail tellers!
( wouldn't ya know it ... i then had to explain why she had to pick another number !!!)
so one more time and this time she picked number 2
so scott you won... i belive i have your street addy so it will likely be later in the week i get it shiped out..
nice try all you other tail tellers!