I've got one more. Another dog hunting story only I was with two of my cousins this time.

I had a great morning going. I had killed a nice eight point only ten minutes after getting to my stand and a six point just fifteen minutes after the eight. Two of my cousins came to help me carry them out, so we field dress them and put them both on one pole, shoulder them up and take turns carrying. The trail we were on was an old "Go-Getter" logging trail. Basically a little ridge in the middle with ruts full of water on both sides.

I'm on the front of the pole and I'm jacked, I'm pumped. You couldn't tell me anything at that point. I was the deer slayer...and then the ground on that little ridge we were walking gave way under my feet. I had the pole on my right shoulder, my feet shot to the right, the rest of my body went to the left. I landed face down in the rather deep mud hole to my left with the pole and a little over two hundred pounds of deer on the back of my head. Of course my two cousins were almost as helpless as my brother in my first post so I almost drowned before they could heave the deer off me. When I did come up, I looked like a tar baby. My front half was completely layered with a half inch of black mud. To this day, we can't tell that story in person because we can't stop laughing long enough to get it out.