Sit #15
Saturday, the opener for muzzleloader, I hoped to take advantage of some doe activity on camera at last light to add a doe to the freezer. I knew the weather was not going to be great on Sunday so I was hoping a deer would cooperate on Saturday. I got in the tree about 2PM and figured I'd be waiting until 5:15-5:30 for a shot. I wasn't wrong.
It was a slow afternoon, seeing one small fork horn walk the opposite side of the hollow from me at around 4:30. About 5:20 or so, I spotted a deer crossing the ravine below me and coming towards me. Then another. And another, etc... There were 5 in total, cautiously working my way. Best I could tell, two mama does and three fawns. My goal was to shoot a bigger one, but if the fecal matter struck the air circulation device, I'd take what I could get. They were working my way, one fawn inside 40 yards, and I think the thermals started to betray me. I was smoked up, everything except the gun that I had just cleaned the day before, and that could be what they got. They were nervous, checking the wind, and I could sense they weren't sticking around. One of the mama does stepped into a tiny hole at about 65 yards down the hill, between two trees. I was solid on the side of the tree, centered the crosshairs on the vital V, and squeezed one off.
I saw them scatter and it wasn't hard to figure out which deer I shot. She ran 10 yards, her front legs gave out, and she bulldozed her way out of sight towards the bottom of the (God forsaken home of the devil himself, muddy banks covered in melting snow death trap of a) ravine.
I walked to where I lost sight of her. Yep, she trucked herself right over the edge and all the way into the creek.
The worst mistake of my life was made soon after. One of the worst, anyway. I took the heavy stuff back to the Jeep and retrieved my deer cart. I figured it might help a little getting her up out of there. Yea. No. Never again on a hill like that. I struggled getting the cart going uphill, it flipped over once, so I had to resort to a good old fashioned drag. I found a little drainage area where I had marginal footing and drug her up out of that hell hole. Then I had to walk back down for the cart. The cart did help once I reached the field, but by that point I was almost as dead as she was.
I earned every ounce of that deer.
The landowner out there had just gifted me a couple of old knives his grandfather had used on their farm growing up. He told me they butchered a lot of pigs, so it's hard to say how many pigs this old knife cut up.
I put a quick edge on it and used it to process the meat. The blade took an edge really well and chunked her quickly for the grinder.