Yesterday marked the 1st day of WV gun season for Deer. Buck or Doe, limit one deer per day, two bucks and three does per season. Before you ask, yes, I once put together the vaunted '5-Pack' over the first 6 days of the season, including an 8 point on Thanksgiving Day. But my usual effort is far from these lofty heights.
As usual, my brother Paul Demlion, joined by my nephew Jesse Demlion, arrived over the weekend for the festivities. We were greeted yesterday morning by winds of 25 mph, gusting to 42. Hopes were dim for the first couple hours, then a 6 point apparently disoriented by the howling gales wandered out in front of Paul and was humanely punished with a single .308 150 grain . Monday evening at about 5 pm Jesse took an ill advised shot at a doe, which hustled out of sight leaving only a disturbingly large patch of white hair at the point of the shot. We hunted it in the dark for an hour until our flashlights gave out, and resolved to go back and look more thoroughly today.
Paul had to go home to NC at daylight today, and Jesse and I decided to sit until it was fully light in much better conditions before commencing the hunt for the deer he shot Monday. We only made it until 7 am when Jesse killed a big doe. We put her in the back of the pickup with the 6 point and set out to find his deer from the night before. Once we got to where the deer had entered a grove of pines, in the same place we had looked for an hour the night before, we found the deer in about 5 minutes. It was very dead and the carcass had been utterly torn apart by a black bear. Jesse had made a good shot and the deer died less than 75 yards from where it was standing when he shot it. Mr. Bear had ripped the midsection open and removed everything inside, eating most of it, including the liver, kidneys heart and lungs, then, for good measure, the brute bit off the right rear leg above the knee. The leg was nowhere around. Bit. the. femur. off. Damn.
I called a friend who is a bear hunter and he came over after work and sat until full dark watching the area where the carcass was, hoping to pound the bear when he came in to feed. It was a good thought, but no go. The fat bastard is probably up there right now gorging himself on the carcass. Did I mention all this took place < 500 yards from my house? I will never hear creaking boards on the deck outside with quite the same calm again.
The topper came tonight, when after 2 days of watching others score on my home field, I finally got my chance. At 5 pm, as the skies darkened around me, a nice healthy doe sneaked out of the woods less than 30 yards from my stand, so close I was afraid she would see me even though I was about 8 feet above her. She took her time getting out to me, and I was feeling a little rattled as she crossed in front of me. I was waiting so that I could raise my gun while from behind her so she would not see. I gazed through the scope only to find that it was still on 9 power from an hour earlier when I cranked it up to watch a pileated woodpecker from 50 yards away. At this point, all I had to do was lower the gun, reset the power to three, raise it again, and shoot her in the neck. Easy. Unfortunately, it seems I had become overly excited. I panicked, saw a brown blur of neck in the 9 power scope, and missed her totally. How far you ask? Well, I knew you would want to know. 19 steps on my stubby little legs. I am calling it 15 yards, max. I never shot at any deer closer in my life and it was a complete and total miss. She jogged away, tail wagging back and forth. It was one of the great chokes of my sporting life. It was my Bill Buckner moment.
The only saving grace is, it was a doe. Had it been an eight point buck I would be weeping too hard to write this this. Tomorrow I will be back out there. I had a Great Uncle who taught me a lot about hunting. He used to say, "keep shooting. They're in more danger than you are"
As usual, my brother Paul Demlion, joined by my nephew Jesse Demlion, arrived over the weekend for the festivities. We were greeted yesterday morning by winds of 25 mph, gusting to 42. Hopes were dim for the first couple hours, then a 6 point apparently disoriented by the howling gales wandered out in front of Paul and was humanely punished with a single .308 150 grain . Monday evening at about 5 pm Jesse took an ill advised shot at a doe, which hustled out of sight leaving only a disturbingly large patch of white hair at the point of the shot. We hunted it in the dark for an hour until our flashlights gave out, and resolved to go back and look more thoroughly today.
Paul had to go home to NC at daylight today, and Jesse and I decided to sit until it was fully light in much better conditions before commencing the hunt for the deer he shot Monday. We only made it until 7 am when Jesse killed a big doe. We put her in the back of the pickup with the 6 point and set out to find his deer from the night before. Once we got to where the deer had entered a grove of pines, in the same place we had looked for an hour the night before, we found the deer in about 5 minutes. It was very dead and the carcass had been utterly torn apart by a black bear. Jesse had made a good shot and the deer died less than 75 yards from where it was standing when he shot it. Mr. Bear had ripped the midsection open and removed everything inside, eating most of it, including the liver, kidneys heart and lungs, then, for good measure, the brute bit off the right rear leg above the knee. The leg was nowhere around. Bit. the. femur. off. Damn.
I called a friend who is a bear hunter and he came over after work and sat until full dark watching the area where the carcass was, hoping to pound the bear when he came in to feed. It was a good thought, but no go. The fat bastard is probably up there right now gorging himself on the carcass. Did I mention all this took place < 500 yards from my house? I will never hear creaking boards on the deck outside with quite the same calm again.
The topper came tonight, when after 2 days of watching others score on my home field, I finally got my chance. At 5 pm, as the skies darkened around me, a nice healthy doe sneaked out of the woods less than 30 yards from my stand, so close I was afraid she would see me even though I was about 8 feet above her. She took her time getting out to me, and I was feeling a little rattled as she crossed in front of me. I was waiting so that I could raise my gun while from behind her so she would not see. I gazed through the scope only to find that it was still on 9 power from an hour earlier when I cranked it up to watch a pileated woodpecker from 50 yards away. At this point, all I had to do was lower the gun, reset the power to three, raise it again, and shoot her in the neck. Easy. Unfortunately, it seems I had become overly excited. I panicked, saw a brown blur of neck in the 9 power scope, and missed her totally. How far you ask? Well, I knew you would want to know. 19 steps on my stubby little legs. I am calling it 15 yards, max. I never shot at any deer closer in my life and it was a complete and total miss. She jogged away, tail wagging back and forth. It was one of the great chokes of my sporting life. It was my Bill Buckner moment.
The only saving grace is, it was a doe. Had it been an eight point buck I would be weeping too hard to write this this. Tomorrow I will be back out there. I had a Great Uncle who taught me a lot about hunting. He used to say, "keep shooting. They're in more danger than you are"
