Kizmo
New member
...sung to the tune of "Over the River and Through the Wood".
Well, I've been trying to get a buck with my Ruger Super Redhawk .454 Casull prior to my New Mexico bear hunt in August. I figure that would be good practice at fighting the shakes I know I'll have. This deer season has been terrible. Our firearm season comes in at the end of October and goes out Jan. 15. Until yesterday, I had seen a grand total of 5 deer all season, none of them shooters. As a matter of fact, only one deer, a doe, had been killed on the 1100 acre plantation where I hunt. All through the Christmas holidays, it had been hot, muggy and raining, but yesterday we finally had some cool weather. Full moon be dammned, I was going to head out anyway.
The plantation where I hunt sits on the Ochlocknee river, and my stand is sandwiched between the river bottom and a pine hill. The food plot is lush and, unfortunately, basically undisturbed, and my buddy (Dr. K_n PhD. Wildlife Biologist In Charge of Possums) who runs the place had spread about a half bag of corn along the edge of it (legal in Ga.). He told me he had seen about 8 sets of deer tracks in the food plot and one set of tracks from the lone hog on the place. The ladder faces northeast, which is where the wind was SUPPOSED to be coming from, but dangit if the wind didn't start swirling out of the south just as soon as I sat down. For a moment, I thought I heard it chuckle softly as it caressed the back of my neck.
I sat there for an hour text bitching at Dr. K_n who, though on a stand only about a 1000 yards away, was enjoying the northeast wind we were supposed to be having. Other than the malevolent wind, my stand was perfect for handgun hunting as the longest possible shot was only 100 yards. However, I hadn't seen a deer there all year, and that, plus the nefarious wind, was really getting me down. I generally don't have the best deer luck even on a good day.
I looked up and spotted a deer at 90+ yards off to my right front (northeast), walking out of the bottom towards the food plot. I immediately cocked the Ruger, because cocking that beast is only slightly quieter than actually shooting it . I'd learned that lesson the hard way. The deer turned out to be just a 1 1/2 year old 6 point, but hey, at least it was a deer, upping my season total of deer seen by a whopping 20%. I mentally started counting down the seconds before I knew he would smell me due to the evil south wind.
A flicker of movement caught my eye, and, lo and behold, bigger buck had walked out of the same spot and was looking straight at me. I flicked my eyes back to the left and, sure enough, junior was looking straight at me as well. I could hear the traitorous south wind mockingly laughing at the back of my neck, in eager anticipation of the disaster it was about to wreak.
I looked back at the larger buck, knowing it was about to head for the hills (or river bottom, as the case may be). Since it was looking straight at me, all I could tell was that it was at least even with its ears and had decently long tines. With the closing of deer season looming, I figured this was as good as I was going to get. The Ruger was already pointed in that direction, so I sighted and squeezed. The buck dropped in his tracks with nary a quiver. The smaller buck hung around for 5 minutes and finally left.
I decided that I wanted to get a daytime photo, so I climbed down and paced off the distance at 86 yards. I took a pic and figured I might as well go back and sit in the stand while waiting for Dr. K_n to come help me load him up. While I was sitting there sending pics to everybody I knew (and several I didn't), I spied something coming out to the food plot from roughly the same place. Figuring it was a doe, I cocked the hammer again. Lo and behold, it was a boar, the last hog of the 8 that came from across the river when it was low back in November. He was coming straight at me, but, knowing that the treacherous south wind would love nothing better than a chance at "consolation mayhem", I let him have it. He dropped in his tracks 12 feet from the buck. Behind me, I heard a silent curse from the wind as it departed in defeat.
The buck was only a 3 1/2 year old 8 point that maybe, if I'm lucky, will gross in the low 120's. Had I been hunting with a rifle, I'd have passed him over. As it stands, he's my first buck with a handgun, and I think I'm prouder of him than all the rest I've killed. He's going on the wall in my office.
Well, I've been trying to get a buck with my Ruger Super Redhawk .454 Casull prior to my New Mexico bear hunt in August. I figure that would be good practice at fighting the shakes I know I'll have. This deer season has been terrible. Our firearm season comes in at the end of October and goes out Jan. 15. Until yesterday, I had seen a grand total of 5 deer all season, none of them shooters. As a matter of fact, only one deer, a doe, had been killed on the 1100 acre plantation where I hunt. All through the Christmas holidays, it had been hot, muggy and raining, but yesterday we finally had some cool weather. Full moon be dammned, I was going to head out anyway.
The plantation where I hunt sits on the Ochlocknee river, and my stand is sandwiched between the river bottom and a pine hill. The food plot is lush and, unfortunately, basically undisturbed, and my buddy (Dr. K_n PhD. Wildlife Biologist In Charge of Possums) who runs the place had spread about a half bag of corn along the edge of it (legal in Ga.). He told me he had seen about 8 sets of deer tracks in the food plot and one set of tracks from the lone hog on the place. The ladder faces northeast, which is where the wind was SUPPOSED to be coming from, but dangit if the wind didn't start swirling out of the south just as soon as I sat down. For a moment, I thought I heard it chuckle softly as it caressed the back of my neck.
I sat there for an hour text bitching at Dr. K_n who, though on a stand only about a 1000 yards away, was enjoying the northeast wind we were supposed to be having. Other than the malevolent wind, my stand was perfect for handgun hunting as the longest possible shot was only 100 yards. However, I hadn't seen a deer there all year, and that, plus the nefarious wind, was really getting me down. I generally don't have the best deer luck even on a good day.
I looked up and spotted a deer at 90+ yards off to my right front (northeast), walking out of the bottom towards the food plot. I immediately cocked the Ruger, because cocking that beast is only slightly quieter than actually shooting it . I'd learned that lesson the hard way. The deer turned out to be just a 1 1/2 year old 6 point, but hey, at least it was a deer, upping my season total of deer seen by a whopping 20%. I mentally started counting down the seconds before I knew he would smell me due to the evil south wind.
A flicker of movement caught my eye, and, lo and behold, bigger buck had walked out of the same spot and was looking straight at me. I flicked my eyes back to the left and, sure enough, junior was looking straight at me as well. I could hear the traitorous south wind mockingly laughing at the back of my neck, in eager anticipation of the disaster it was about to wreak.
I looked back at the larger buck, knowing it was about to head for the hills (or river bottom, as the case may be). Since it was looking straight at me, all I could tell was that it was at least even with its ears and had decently long tines. With the closing of deer season looming, I figured this was as good as I was going to get. The Ruger was already pointed in that direction, so I sighted and squeezed. The buck dropped in his tracks with nary a quiver. The smaller buck hung around for 5 minutes and finally left.
I decided that I wanted to get a daytime photo, so I climbed down and paced off the distance at 86 yards. I took a pic and figured I might as well go back and sit in the stand while waiting for Dr. K_n to come help me load him up. While I was sitting there sending pics to everybody I knew (and several I didn't), I spied something coming out to the food plot from roughly the same place. Figuring it was a doe, I cocked the hammer again. Lo and behold, it was a boar, the last hog of the 8 that came from across the river when it was low back in November. He was coming straight at me, but, knowing that the treacherous south wind would love nothing better than a chance at "consolation mayhem", I let him have it. He dropped in his tracks 12 feet from the buck. Behind me, I heard a silent curse from the wind as it departed in defeat.
The buck was only a 3 1/2 year old 8 point that maybe, if I'm lucky, will gross in the low 120's. Had I been hunting with a rifle, I'd have passed him over. As it stands, he's my first buck with a handgun, and I think I'm prouder of him than all the rest I've killed. He's going on the wall in my office.
