Letters To The Editor June 2020
A Big Buck With A Moral Story
This is one of those stories that you may think is just another wives’ tale you’ve heard around the hunting club campfire. This is no wives’ tale, and did I mention it has a moral to the story?
Last year I hunted out of four different deer stands on our property and my neighbor’s. He doesn’t hunt anymore, and his land butts up to ours. I knew the buck I was after, and I had done my homework on him. I knew all his little stopping points, scrapes, rubs, etc. The only problem was that I didn’t know what time he passed through. The only time I ever saw him was around 2 a.m. eating on the side of the road. I knew a few of our friends saw him, too, because they made comments about a huge buck they saw in our area, so I was worried about somebody shooting him at night.
I hunted just about every morning and evening and saw deer every day, but not him, nothing, nada! I was beginning to think the worst, that someone had shot my deer.
There were other bucks, but I wasn’t interested. This was the one you dreamed of hanging on the wall. I was starting to get discouraged, and the end of the 2018 season was around the corner. On the last day of the season, I didn’t hunt that morning and almost didn’t go that evening. Around 3:30 p.m., I told my boyfriend I was just going to walk behind the house and see if I could spot a doe for the freezer since I had put nothing in there for the year.
I walked behind the house to a ladder stand he had put up on the powerline. I had never hunted it, but you could see clear to the next county. It was so cold, and the wind was blowing 100 mph. Let me just say that I was as miserable as any human could be. I had made up my mind that I was done. Stick a fork in me, I was getting down.
Just before I made the first move to get up, something out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned my head slowly, and there was my deer, trotting down the hill no more than 50 yards away from me. I eased my gun around to the right and whistled, hoping he would stop. It worked, and that was his fatal mistake. I aimed right behind his shoulder and pulled the trigger. He never took another step.
Oh yeah, the moral of the story is that you never give up, and you never not have your GON subscription up to date before going hunting.
Who knows, you might actually kill an 11-pointer and win a new truck!
Tracy L. Swetman
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