ohland
07-07-2015, 06:42 PM
I bet it was cold.
Recreation, Vol 55, No. 3 page 126
https://books.google.com/books?id=qXw7AQAAMAAJ&pg=PA25&dq=casting+rifle+bullets&hl=en&sa=X&ei=djicVavlKoTBtQXL25jIBQ&ved=0CFYQ6AEwBw#v=onepage&q=casting%20rifle%20bullets&f=false
Getting Deer Without Male Assistance
By Mrs. Dwight Misner
ON August 12 of last summer, accompanied by our neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. W. L. Baker, by auto our family started vacation bent for Drew, Douglas County, in the south of the state. There our old guide, “Bill” Horn, six feet six in his socks, met us and packed our outfit on three horses for the five-mile jaunt to our ideal camp ing place, up along Drew Creek.
On the morning of the 15th (opening of the deer season), we were up with the earliest light, and I went with my husband to a large burn on the high mountain near our camp. On rounding a point, I suddenly had my first opportunity for a shot at a buck, at a distance of about 300 yards. I fired four times with my Savage .303, but the buck seemed absolutely safe.
I called to my husband to shoot, but he could not see the buck from his position, so I fired again. The buck fell, then leaped into range for my husband, who hit him a second time. But the deer got away. We followed blood for some distance around the mountain, but finally, greatly to our regret, had to give him up, wounded. I know the temptation to shoot is strong, but it is nevertheless wrong to take long range shots unless the conditions are in every way favorable and the need is urgent.
Both my husband and Mr. Baker bagged their buck the next day, and on the 17th we saw plenty of does and fawns but no bucks.
We found a large opening about a mile from camp, with plenty of fresh deer tracks, but on two early calls the dry underbrush betrayed us to the animals and they escaped. Accordingly, Mrs. Baker, who is an old hunter with many successful shots to her credit, said to me, “Let’s take a quilt apiece and sleep in that opening, to make sure we get a shot at them."
I agreed, and we stuck to our intention in spite of joking. At sundown we said “Good night" to the camp.
We found a fairly level place for a bed, against the side of a big lo , that kept us from sliding down hill. We neither saw nor heard anything except a slight noise around midnight, which we took to be deer feeding. At 5 am. we had begun to think we had scared the game away, but at 5:20 Mrs. Baker suddenly whispered, “They're coming! Hear that?”
We heard rocks rolling and brush cracking for some time, and decided that the deer were feeding along the mountain side across the draw from us. Finally we saw them, and Mrs. Baker, who has never overcome "buck fever," was in stantly seized by an attack. There were plenty of deer, but it was hard to pick out the bucks. At last Mrs. Baker singled out a fine “four point," and after racking a good shell out of her gun took an unlucky shot at him.
Just at that moment I saw my chance to get a “two-point," held on his shoulder and down he went, rolling and kicking, to the bottom of the draw.
We slit the throat of the dead deer and hurried back to camp, arriving just as the men had break fast ready.
Two days later, Mrs. Baker shot the finest buck of the trip, by a splendid shot at a big four-point as he was running up hill. Another good sweat for “the boys," this time over a high mountain. Unluckily our photographs were all spoiled. But the memory of getting those two deer with out the aid of the men is imperishable.
Recreation, Vol 55, No. 3 page 126
https://books.google.com/books?id=qXw7AQAAMAAJ&pg=PA25&dq=casting+rifle+bullets&hl=en&sa=X&ei=djicVavlKoTBtQXL25jIBQ&ved=0CFYQ6AEwBw#v=onepage&q=casting%20rifle%20bullets&f=false
Getting Deer Without Male Assistance
By Mrs. Dwight Misner
ON August 12 of last summer, accompanied by our neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. W. L. Baker, by auto our family started vacation bent for Drew, Douglas County, in the south of the state. There our old guide, “Bill” Horn, six feet six in his socks, met us and packed our outfit on three horses for the five-mile jaunt to our ideal camp ing place, up along Drew Creek.
On the morning of the 15th (opening of the deer season), we were up with the earliest light, and I went with my husband to a large burn on the high mountain near our camp. On rounding a point, I suddenly had my first opportunity for a shot at a buck, at a distance of about 300 yards. I fired four times with my Savage .303, but the buck seemed absolutely safe.
I called to my husband to shoot, but he could not see the buck from his position, so I fired again. The buck fell, then leaped into range for my husband, who hit him a second time. But the deer got away. We followed blood for some distance around the mountain, but finally, greatly to our regret, had to give him up, wounded. I know the temptation to shoot is strong, but it is nevertheless wrong to take long range shots unless the conditions are in every way favorable and the need is urgent.
Both my husband and Mr. Baker bagged their buck the next day, and on the 17th we saw plenty of does and fawns but no bucks.
We found a large opening about a mile from camp, with plenty of fresh deer tracks, but on two early calls the dry underbrush betrayed us to the animals and they escaped. Accordingly, Mrs. Baker, who is an old hunter with many successful shots to her credit, said to me, “Let’s take a quilt apiece and sleep in that opening, to make sure we get a shot at them."
I agreed, and we stuck to our intention in spite of joking. At sundown we said “Good night" to the camp.
We found a fairly level place for a bed, against the side of a big lo , that kept us from sliding down hill. We neither saw nor heard anything except a slight noise around midnight, which we took to be deer feeding. At 5 am. we had begun to think we had scared the game away, but at 5:20 Mrs. Baker suddenly whispered, “They're coming! Hear that?”
We heard rocks rolling and brush cracking for some time, and decided that the deer were feeding along the mountain side across the draw from us. Finally we saw them, and Mrs. Baker, who has never overcome "buck fever," was in stantly seized by an attack. There were plenty of deer, but it was hard to pick out the bucks. At last Mrs. Baker singled out a fine “four point," and after racking a good shell out of her gun took an unlucky shot at him.
Just at that moment I saw my chance to get a “two-point," held on his shoulder and down he went, rolling and kicking, to the bottom of the draw.
We slit the throat of the dead deer and hurried back to camp, arriving just as the men had break fast ready.
Two days later, Mrs. Baker shot the finest buck of the trip, by a splendid shot at a big four-point as he was running up hill. Another good sweat for “the boys," this time over a high mountain. Unluckily our photographs were all spoiled. But the memory of getting those two deer with out the aid of the men is imperishable.