P H O T O G R A
P H E R
WHIDBEY ISLAND WASHINGTON USA
| I began to study this
year, trying to learn something of the fine art of deer hunting. I
was also in college after graduation from PeEll High School back in June.
I remember it was a cold, rainy, blustery Wednesday and I stayed home from
college to go hunting. I don’t remember why Wednesday other than it
probably had something to do with a work schedule or something. Anyway,
I drove Old Myrtle out to the 503 Road west of Doty, often called the garbage
dump road after an illegal dump, or the 5 road cut-off. I pulled off
at a likely spot and entered the woods. As I said, it was stormy that day, raining in buckets with violent winds; perfect blacktail hunting weather. I stole quietly along, moving slowly and keeping watch all around me. The sounds of the wind and rain were masking my footsteps very well, but I was becoming quickly drenched. As a result, I was becoming more and more careless too. I remember coming to a small alder clearing in the mainly fir forest and there, cradle carrying my trusty .32, stood between two alders and leaned against one. A slight movement caught my eye and I turned just in time to see the largest blacktail buck I have ever seen in my life. He was standing with his rump toward me but looking back over his shoulder at me, at a distance of about 30 feet! I raised my rifle and he bolted for cover. I fired a shot but obviously missed badly as he sped off into the woods. I was so shocked by the suddenness of what had just happened I didn’t think to work the lever to chamber another round. About that time, the deer whirled and ran back across in front of me at about warp 10. If I had only chambered a round I would have had a broadside shot. He was running and I would have likely missed, but I would have had another opportunity. I hunted the area where I took the shot very carefully but could not find any blood. I doubtless missed him. But the rain was pouring so hard I may have been too late even though it was only minutes since I had pulled the trigger. I searched for that buck for the next hour or so before, thoroughly soaked, I gave up and hightailed it for home. I had no more opportunity for hunting the remainder of the week and the final days of the season. But the extended season would open soon and I would get another crack at the big brute. Late buck season arrived and I planned another assault on the 503 area. It was Wednesday again and once again I skipped classes to go hunting. The weather could not have been more identical if I had ordered it so. I parked in the same spot, walked up the same game trail, and entered the same alder thicket, with rain already dripping down my back. I even leaned on the same tree hoping for a repeat performance of everything but the miss. Everything was exactly as it was two weeks before, except the buck was not in the clearing. I tried not to be disappointed. Scanning the area I decided to continue on toward a rise about forty yards ahead. I had only taken a few steps when I heard the brush snapping somewhere ahead of me. I quickly topped the rise and there about a hundred yards off through the timber I could see two deer, one with a sizeable rack of antlers. They were moving to my left and in no big hurry. They had not detected my presence. Rather than taking a chance shot I waited for a sure, broadside shot. I raised my rifle and when they stopped for a look around, I fired. The buck collapsed on the spot. I stayed put for a few minutes to make sure he was staying down then began to make my way toward him. It took only a few minutes to negotiate the 100 or so yards to the deer. “What a beautiful animal!” I exclaimed as I stood over him. His fur had white spotted hind quarters and was really pretty. I quickly field dressed him on the spot and drug him the short distance back to the road. I proudly displayed him to the few friends I could find at the time and my future mother-in-law took a photo of me with my deer. I think that was worth a day off from college, huh? I had never seen a deer hide with white spots before. I had that hide made into a rug, or more accurately perhaps, I had it tanned with the fur on and sewn to a felt backing. It would be a reach to call it a rug. I would hang it on the wall but never walk on it. I still have it too, thirty years later. It will soon find a spot of honor on my new shop/office wall. Once again, I lost the antlers. I don’t remember where or how. |
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