bobvonb
New member
Back in the late ‘60s I was living in Texas and hunted my in-law’s property in the Hill Country outside of New Braunfels, near Canyon Lake. Their place was 160 acres and their little country home was at the front of the property. To a California city boy like me it felt like the Ponderosa. A creek ran through the middle of the property, running back to front, and emptied into Canyon Lake. To the right of the creek there were a couple of open fields and a 100 year old farmhouse and barn, a fun place to explore. On the left there was a hill covered with cedars and scrub oaks with the property corner at the top. I liked to sit in the corner and look down the fence lines toward the front and along the back of the property. Everyone in the family called it “Bob’s corner”. My father-in-law and my brothers-in-law preferred hunting other spots and left the back to me. Actually I wandered pretty much all over the property, but the back corner was my favorite spot. I had taken a nice 8 pointer there the previous year and was looking for another.
It was a gloomy cold Saturday morning in early December and a light rain was falling. Normally I’d be out before first light but I really debated whether or not I wanted to go out on such a miserable morning. About 7 a.m. I decided I did. I put on my Air Force field jacket, pulled up the hood, grabbed my Remington 700 ADL 30-06 and stepped out. By the time I got to the back fence I was wondering what the heck I was doing. At least the wet ground and soggy leaves made quiet walking easier. Or so I thought.
I was only about 50 yards up the fence line when I heard rocks flying to my left inside the brush line and I knew a deer got kicked out of his bed. From that second on I was unaware of rain or cold. Adrenaline I suppose. I scampered about 10 more yards up the hill to a little bench, turned and looked back down the line, thinking the deer might cross to the 1000 acre empty parcel over the back fence. I got into a sitting position, racked a round into the chamber, and raised my rifle hoping to catch a buck before he jumped the fence. It all happened pretty fast. A deer head popped out of the brush, headed toward the fence. A buck! Nice one too! Safety off. Now everything I had ever read in hunting magazines flashed before me in an instant: swing with the deer, lead it slightly, squeeze the trigger, and don’t jerk it. Now the deer was fully exposed and getting ready to leap. He leapt, fully stretched out. I swung the rifle with him. I pulled the trigger just as deer disappeared behind a cedar that was right on the fence line. I waited to see if he would come out on the far side, either staggering or just bounding away if I missed. Nothing. I waited several minutes, I really don’t know how long. Finally, senses still on edge, I made my way down the fence line and peeked behind the cedar. There he was, stone dead. Whew! He was a beautiful 7 point buck, a little bigger and with a prettier rack than last year’s 8 pointer. I got him in the neck and damaged virtually no meat.
It doesn’t matter what the temperature or conditions are, when you are field dressing a deer it’s down to shirtsleeves every time. That’s the good news. The bad news was that I cut my thumb (dumb thing to do!) and had to get a tetanus shot later that day. But by 9:30 the deer was hanging in the garage and my mother-in-law made a great breakfast of grapefruit juice, eggs, toast, and venison sausage for me. It was one of the best tasting breakfasts ever. A very memorable hunt for me, for sure.
It was a gloomy cold Saturday morning in early December and a light rain was falling. Normally I’d be out before first light but I really debated whether or not I wanted to go out on such a miserable morning. About 7 a.m. I decided I did. I put on my Air Force field jacket, pulled up the hood, grabbed my Remington 700 ADL 30-06 and stepped out. By the time I got to the back fence I was wondering what the heck I was doing. At least the wet ground and soggy leaves made quiet walking easier. Or so I thought.
I was only about 50 yards up the fence line when I heard rocks flying to my left inside the brush line and I knew a deer got kicked out of his bed. From that second on I was unaware of rain or cold. Adrenaline I suppose. I scampered about 10 more yards up the hill to a little bench, turned and looked back down the line, thinking the deer might cross to the 1000 acre empty parcel over the back fence. I got into a sitting position, racked a round into the chamber, and raised my rifle hoping to catch a buck before he jumped the fence. It all happened pretty fast. A deer head popped out of the brush, headed toward the fence. A buck! Nice one too! Safety off. Now everything I had ever read in hunting magazines flashed before me in an instant: swing with the deer, lead it slightly, squeeze the trigger, and don’t jerk it. Now the deer was fully exposed and getting ready to leap. He leapt, fully stretched out. I swung the rifle with him. I pulled the trigger just as deer disappeared behind a cedar that was right on the fence line. I waited to see if he would come out on the far side, either staggering or just bounding away if I missed. Nothing. I waited several minutes, I really don’t know how long. Finally, senses still on edge, I made my way down the fence line and peeked behind the cedar. There he was, stone dead. Whew! He was a beautiful 7 point buck, a little bigger and with a prettier rack than last year’s 8 pointer. I got him in the neck and damaged virtually no meat.
It doesn’t matter what the temperature or conditions are, when you are field dressing a deer it’s down to shirtsleeves every time. That’s the good news. The bad news was that I cut my thumb (dumb thing to do!) and had to get a tetanus shot later that day. But by 9:30 the deer was hanging in the garage and my mother-in-law made a great breakfast of grapefruit juice, eggs, toast, and venison sausage for me. It was one of the best tasting breakfasts ever. A very memorable hunt for me, for sure.
Last edited:
