I was hunting private land in Garrette County Maryland. We were scouting the day before the season opened, and ran off two trespassers. I chose my spot, which was in a hardwood forest at an old logging road intersection, where three deer trails converged before going into some thick pines. I set my climber on the tree the night before the hunt, and left it at the bottom of the tree so I wouldn't have to carry it in the next day. At 4:00am on opening day we woke up to 30mph winds, and 15 degree cold. I got dressed, got my gear, and headed up the hill to my stand, which was exactly as I left it. I climbed up about 25 feet, and with the way that big old hickory tree was rocking I felt almost like I was in a bass boat. The sun came up, and sure enough, those same two trespassers came on the land, and I spotted them about 200 yard away. I flagged them with my orange hat, and pointed down the hill. They ignored me, and proceeded to set up under a big hemlock tree, and were not dressed for the extreme cold, and wind. I let them alone because I wasn't going to ruin my hunt by trying to remove them, which turned out the be the right move. A few hours went by, and the wind was still blowing, and these two just couldn't take it anymore, so they packed up,and headed down the hill. A few seconds after they were out of sight I heard a deer running. He was a good 250 yards out, and coming from the direction the two had gone down the hill in. I saw what looked like a nice rack, and I watched as he hit the far right trail that led right up to my stand, and he turned on it, and headed right at me on a trail that led under my stand to the pines behind me. I stood up, got my 30-30 on him, and waited for him to hit the clearing at the logging road intersection 25 yards in front of me. When he got there he slowed, and looked behind him, and I fired, hitting him in the right shoulder. He bolted again, running right under me, and went into those pines. I watched as he stopped, and started licking his wound. I cycled my lever action, and got ready for another shot, but when I looked up again, he was gone. I climbed down, and walked to where I say him last, and there were tracks everywhere, from who knows how many deer that had been throught the snow there that night, and I didn't see any blood. I started spiraling out looking for any sign of my wounded buck, and saw nothing. I realized at a certain point that I had lost my bearing on exactly where the deer was last, so I started over by going back to the stand, and walking to where I saw the deer last... again. I started circling out again, and found the buck, in the pines, dead on the ground not 20 feet from where he was licking his shoulder. I suppose I was just so pumped up that I missed him the first time. Trying to understand how that could happen in the excitement of the moment of looking for my first deer? Well... :embarasse
Here's the rack from that first deer I ever shot, in my fourth hunting season.
