Didn't have any money. Gas was "like" $1.25 a gallon. Muzzle loader season. Only primitive weapons, you know. 'Round first of the year. Livin' off our last pennies. Nowhere left to hunt with the muzzle loader. Ashtabula County. Went out there to tag on another hunt with some guys we never could get a hold of. Ate at the Bob Evans with our last ten.
Out of a whim, I said, so uh, we moseyed on down there an' our friend wasn't there.
So we drew straws to see who would shoot and who would drive. Then there's the swamp and some splashin' and some ice crackin'. And lo and behold, here come some deer and their youngun's. And unbenounced to me as to why they chose the course they did , 'cause freedom was to the left and death was to the right, they stopped and turned and they ran straight at me.
At ten yards, they saw me, and I shot her at a dead run. Then she flopped over.
Total hunt? Ten minutes and five of that I spent against a tree.
And that was the biggest I probably ever shot. Biggest DOE.
How 'bout that?
my husband, left doe stu, right