Thanks again for the birthday wishes!
Rusty, I was hunting with my sons on a steep, brushy hillside in the pouring rain. A group of five does was heading sidehill towards me, about 100 yards below the boys but not in their line of sight. I was out in the open hoping to turn them towards the boys. When they were about 100 yards from me, they reached the trail that goes uphill to where the boys were. I shot one of them, hoping they would flee uphill.
When they heard the shot they just stood there looking like, well, deer. When one of them fell over and tubmled downhill a few feet the rest decided to start walking nonchalantly towards me. At this point it occurred to me that maybe I'd shot their leader and now they were coming over to ask for directions.
I stood up and waved my arms to make them run, hopefully uphill towards the boys. Instead they ran straight for me, blinded by their rage, hearts filled with revenge. I drew my trusty JKM-1 (you know the one with the finger choil and the filework on the spine). When they saw the flash of Nepali steel and the cold look in my eye they diverted their charge and went by me at ten yards, vowing to meet again.
When the boys joined me, I dressed out the deer and explained to them the lesson to be learned from this day's hunting experience: it never hurts to bring along a couple of big, strong teenaged football players to pack your deer up that long steep hill.
