SHOTGUN SLUG BLUES

It started during bow season. I was seeing a lot of rubs. For you non-hunters a rub is when a buck scrapes the bark off one side of a tree to attract does and mark his territory. Not to be confused with a scrape which is a rubbed patch of earth that a buck pees on to mark his territory and attract does. Rule of thumb is a lttle buck will make little rubs on little trees, but only a big buck will tear up a big (3 or more inches diam.) tree. I was seeing big trees gouged.
So yesterday in a sloppy soup of snow, sleet and rain I decided to still hunt. I started out behind the church. Taking a slow, steady loop, I sat and walked, walked and sat. I went behind the two new houses and cut close to the Russian's with the new cinder block bomb shelter or White Castle. I came out by where Elijah's trailer used to be. Crossing the road, I cut behind the cemetery, where Bird had pushed the 8 to me last year. I was seeing big rubs all the way, but no deer. By noon I was in the back corner of the horse farm. I have permission to hunt this, but try to stay out during gun season. Too many other hunters. But the weather was so crappy I figured that I would be the only one crazy enough to be out. I was right.
I crested the hill and slid down the back side towards the river. I wasn't even paying attention, when I noticed a deer laying down the hill 10 yards in front of me. It was a buck. He was facing down the hill and never heard me. To walk up on any deer is a coup. To walk up on a buck, so close, is unheard of (for me at least). I hit the ground and peeked up. He was a nice four pointer. Not legal. When I peeked he caught me and scooted down the hill as silent as an owl. Now I was paying attention. Why couldn't he have been a big buck? I was carrying my Browning 12 ga. pump slug gun with open sights. In this weather I didn't want to carry my scoped .243. I'd killed bucks with this gun, with bad eyes. It was more of a challenge than the rifle. 50 yards was my max.
About half way down the ridge I hit a logging trail and turned right. The corner of the river was just below me and I was headng towards the road. Not 50 yards down the road I spotted a deer under a little hemlock. IT WAS A MONSTER BUCK! I'd walked up on two bucks in one day! Even with my bad eyes I could tell this was a nice buck. I shouldered the shotgun as he stood. I fired. He kicked and twisted like a fish, all four feet off the ground. Then he headed straight up the ridge, That's right, UP the ridge. I lost him immediately. I had never shot at a buck this big. All indications were it was a good hit. I chambered another shell and headed slowly down the road. I was sure he'd be piled up just up the hill. Yeah right.
The first couple of minutes of searching for blood didn't concern me. I'd hit plenty of deer and not found blood at the hit, only to find a dead deer 20 yards away. A half hour in and 200 yards up the hill I began to worry. Two hours later I was crestfallen. I kept playing it over in my head. He kicked. He hunched. He twisted. I know I hit this deer. No blood. No Hair. I came home and called Savage. I got his machine. I grabbed the .243 and went back. By dark I gave up.

In the aftermath of this terible event I consulted with the old man, Bird, and of course Savage Lynch. "Sorry Ost." he said,"I think you missed him. Must've shot right over his back." Of all the lousy scenerios this was the best. I couldn't deal with wounding and not finding this deer. I went back today and listened for crows and checked for any trace of hair. Nada. The old man said his old man always said that most deer are missed by shooting over their backs. He was a wise old coot. Savage said he heard of a guy that shot at a deer and four other deer hit the ground out of shear fright. I feel better knowing it was a clean miss. But I still feel like shit knowing I blew a chance of a lifetime. You have no idea how this affects a hunter. Now I'm really going to get serious.