Tell me a story
06-04-2009 | 02:58 AM
#11
Fork Horn
Joined: Mar 2008
Posts: 272
Likes: 0
From: Michigan
RE: Tell me a story
One year in Colorado. 6 miles back my brother in law shot a bice 4x4 elk. When I heard him shoot, I got ahold of him on the radio. told him to get it gutted & Ill meet him there after dark. I was a mile or so away. Log story short. He didnt know how to gut an elk or deer for that matter. So I bust brush to him, "help" him gut the elk with MY knife. Now we were 2 miles from our spike camp & 6 miles from the road. I had never quartered an elk, So we walked back to spike camp to get my brother, he has quartered one before. We got him quartered up .I had walked 15-16 miles that day & didnt eat enough. So we had some cold MREs[:'(] 30 min later Im on all four tossing my guts with 80lbs of elk on my back. My bro & bol were on their back laughing. More to come on this story, gott get the kids on the bus
06-04-2009 | 03:27 AM
#12
Giant Nontypical
Joined: Nov 2004
Posts: 5,425
Likes: 0
RE: Tell me a story
I had a buddy that had the best bird dog you've ever seen...One morning we went out and just couldn't find the birds...That dang dog took us across 2 highways and 3 swamps...I bet we hiked 10 miles that morning...We ended up on a small farm where a farmer was in his garden doing a little work...The dog was on point, wouldn't move...
We walked up and introduced ourselves and asked the farmer's name...
He said Bob White...
We walked up and introduced ourselves and asked the farmer's name...
He said Bob White...
06-04-2009 | 04:24 AM
#13
Nontypical Buck
Joined: Oct 2006
Posts: 1,607
Likes: 0
From: Tennessee
RE: Tell me a story
Sorry it's long, but it was already written:
Disappointment in Little Cuba[/b]
[/b]
[/b]Opening week of gun season meant a lot of things to me. Cold days, long hikes, sardines for lunch and at least one trip into Little Cuba for a hunt. The numerous thick brushy ridges that envelope the area welcomes deer. Year in and year out someone always brings a good buck out of there so we always keep coming back and as a 10 year old boy, I dreamed this year it would be me.
The night before our planned hunt my dad, my cousin Neal and myself discussed where we would make our stands. Dad suggested that I take a stand that in the past had proven itself as worthy of all day deer traffic. This stand was nestled on top of a piney ridge facing the south with a thick brushy ridge to my left and an open ridge to my right.
That morning we all confirmed our plans for the day and headed out. After a short hike I was at my stand about 30 min before daylight. I scrapped out the leaves from around two pines and got out my seat cushion. I pulled out my Tinks 69 and opened the lid. All was set. I got settled in and waited for daylight.
About 7:30 I heard what I was pretty sure was deer just down the ridge from me. I got my gun up and laid across my knees. It sounded like a couple deer so in my head I rationalized that it was a doe and a buck. It was probably wishful thinking but it was more comforting to think that I was hearing a buck coming toward me. After about 10 minutes the noise subsided and I lowered my gun.
An hour passed and I had not heard anything in the way of a deer so I pulled out my grunt tube and gave a few grunts. Tucked it away in my coveralls and got ready again. Back in the same direction that I had originally heard the first deer I heard another crashing sound. This time it was getting louder and closer. I again laid my gun across my knees and got ready. They were getting closer and closer. This time it appeared I was going to get to see the maker of all the commotion. However, when they got just about to the point where I expected to see them at any time they all stopped. Maybe if I grunt then they’ll come the rest of the way[/i] I thought. So I eased my grunt tube out and gave a two grunt sequence. Nothing happened. I grunted again. Again nothing happened. It was as if nothing was there listening to me. A couple minutes later the sound began again. I thought to myself here we go, they’re coming in. [/i]However, to my surprise, the sound I was hearing quickly became the sound of them going in the other direction.
I discussed my up and down day with dad over the radio and he told me of the things he had seen. It was a pretty day so I was prepared to sit all day if necessary. Dad’s suggestion to me was a common suggestion that he had to me and that was “Be patient, they’ll be back.”
Like always, dad was right. About an hour later I heard the same crashing sound coming from the same direction. This time I thought to myself maybe if I stand I’ll be able to see further and if in case they don’t come all the way. [/i]They were getting closer and closer. I could feel my heart racing. All of a sudden I caught movement. Then more movement. Now I knew for sure it was deer. Then I glanced on top of the ridge and there stood a deer. I put it in the scope and quickly saw that it was a doe. I found another deer and scoped it. Sweet! This one had horns. It was only a spike but it was a legal buck. It took a couple steps and turned broadsided to me at about 30 yards. I cocked the hammer back and laid the crosshairs on its shoulder. I touched it off. Boom! I worked the lever expecting to see a white belly laying on the ground. But to my surprise all the deer did was turn around and face the other direction. Again I put the crosshairs on his shoulder and touched another one off. Boom! This time they decided they had enough. Down over the ridge they went, back in the direction that they came. Surely I hit it[/i]. I thought to myself. How could I miss, it was no more than 30 yards. [/i]By this time Dad had called me on the radio asking if that was me shooting. I quickly confirmed that it was and told him of my encounter with the buck. He told me to sit tight and he would be up to me in a bit.
I packed up my stuff in preparation for the pending tacking of my deer. Dad arrived at my stand a few min later and we began our search. He asked where the deer was standing and I pointed and told him which way the left in. We frantically searched the leaves for hair, blood or anything else that would give us some indication of a hit deer. However, we found nothing. Dad asked what happened when I shot. I explained how when I shot the first time the deer just basically turned around so I shot the second time and then they left. Dad did a sweep of the area and I went back to my stand to make sure I knew where the buck was standing when I shot. About that time dad radioed me and told me to come to him. Yes! He found blood! [/i]I thought. I got to where dad was standing and like many times on our hunts he quizzed me. “What do you see?” I searched the ground frantically looking for some kind of sign. “Higher.” He said. I looked about 2 ½ feet above the ground at a pine about 6 inches in diameter to see two fresh bullet holes. “How in the world did that happen?” I asked. “I guess you didn’t see it.” Dad retorted. My emotions hit rock bottom. All the anticipation of finding my deer sank as I began to realize that I had completely missed.
Every year Dad would take all of the pictures that we had taken during the year to make an album. So he pulled out his camera and took a pic of the pine I had shot. He said “We’ll call this one, Scott’s Spike”.
We both returned to our stands and sat out the rest of the morning. I kept replaying what had just happened over and over in my mind trying to figure out how in the world I didn’t see that tree. Neither of us killed anything that day unless you want to count my pine tree spike.
Disappointment in Little Cuba[/b]
[/b]
[/b]Opening week of gun season meant a lot of things to me. Cold days, long hikes, sardines for lunch and at least one trip into Little Cuba for a hunt. The numerous thick brushy ridges that envelope the area welcomes deer. Year in and year out someone always brings a good buck out of there so we always keep coming back and as a 10 year old boy, I dreamed this year it would be me.
The night before our planned hunt my dad, my cousin Neal and myself discussed where we would make our stands. Dad suggested that I take a stand that in the past had proven itself as worthy of all day deer traffic. This stand was nestled on top of a piney ridge facing the south with a thick brushy ridge to my left and an open ridge to my right.
That morning we all confirmed our plans for the day and headed out. After a short hike I was at my stand about 30 min before daylight. I scrapped out the leaves from around two pines and got out my seat cushion. I pulled out my Tinks 69 and opened the lid. All was set. I got settled in and waited for daylight.
About 7:30 I heard what I was pretty sure was deer just down the ridge from me. I got my gun up and laid across my knees. It sounded like a couple deer so in my head I rationalized that it was a doe and a buck. It was probably wishful thinking but it was more comforting to think that I was hearing a buck coming toward me. After about 10 minutes the noise subsided and I lowered my gun.
An hour passed and I had not heard anything in the way of a deer so I pulled out my grunt tube and gave a few grunts. Tucked it away in my coveralls and got ready again. Back in the same direction that I had originally heard the first deer I heard another crashing sound. This time it was getting louder and closer. I again laid my gun across my knees and got ready. They were getting closer and closer. This time it appeared I was going to get to see the maker of all the commotion. However, when they got just about to the point where I expected to see them at any time they all stopped. Maybe if I grunt then they’ll come the rest of the way[/i] I thought. So I eased my grunt tube out and gave a two grunt sequence. Nothing happened. I grunted again. Again nothing happened. It was as if nothing was there listening to me. A couple minutes later the sound began again. I thought to myself here we go, they’re coming in. [/i]However, to my surprise, the sound I was hearing quickly became the sound of them going in the other direction.
I discussed my up and down day with dad over the radio and he told me of the things he had seen. It was a pretty day so I was prepared to sit all day if necessary. Dad’s suggestion to me was a common suggestion that he had to me and that was “Be patient, they’ll be back.”
Like always, dad was right. About an hour later I heard the same crashing sound coming from the same direction. This time I thought to myself maybe if I stand I’ll be able to see further and if in case they don’t come all the way. [/i]They were getting closer and closer. I could feel my heart racing. All of a sudden I caught movement. Then more movement. Now I knew for sure it was deer. Then I glanced on top of the ridge and there stood a deer. I put it in the scope and quickly saw that it was a doe. I found another deer and scoped it. Sweet! This one had horns. It was only a spike but it was a legal buck. It took a couple steps and turned broadsided to me at about 30 yards. I cocked the hammer back and laid the crosshairs on its shoulder. I touched it off. Boom! I worked the lever expecting to see a white belly laying on the ground. But to my surprise all the deer did was turn around and face the other direction. Again I put the crosshairs on his shoulder and touched another one off. Boom! This time they decided they had enough. Down over the ridge they went, back in the direction that they came. Surely I hit it[/i]. I thought to myself. How could I miss, it was no more than 30 yards. [/i]By this time Dad had called me on the radio asking if that was me shooting. I quickly confirmed that it was and told him of my encounter with the buck. He told me to sit tight and he would be up to me in a bit.
I packed up my stuff in preparation for the pending tacking of my deer. Dad arrived at my stand a few min later and we began our search. He asked where the deer was standing and I pointed and told him which way the left in. We frantically searched the leaves for hair, blood or anything else that would give us some indication of a hit deer. However, we found nothing. Dad asked what happened when I shot. I explained how when I shot the first time the deer just basically turned around so I shot the second time and then they left. Dad did a sweep of the area and I went back to my stand to make sure I knew where the buck was standing when I shot. About that time dad radioed me and told me to come to him. Yes! He found blood! [/i]I thought. I got to where dad was standing and like many times on our hunts he quizzed me. “What do you see?” I searched the ground frantically looking for some kind of sign. “Higher.” He said. I looked about 2 ½ feet above the ground at a pine about 6 inches in diameter to see two fresh bullet holes. “How in the world did that happen?” I asked. “I guess you didn’t see it.” Dad retorted. My emotions hit rock bottom. All the anticipation of finding my deer sank as I began to realize that I had completely missed.
Every year Dad would take all of the pictures that we had taken during the year to make an album. So he pulled out his camera and took a pic of the pine I had shot. He said “We’ll call this one, Scott’s Spike”.
We both returned to our stands and sat out the rest of the morning. I kept replaying what had just happened over and over in my mind trying to figure out how in the world I didn’t see that tree. Neither of us killed anything that day unless you want to count my pine tree spike.
06-04-2009 | 07:02 AM
#14
Fork Horn
Joined: Mar 2008
Posts: 272
Likes: 0
From: Michigan
RE: Tell me a story
The rest of my story. When we made it back to spike camp. we slept for a couple hours. then decided to cut some of the backstrap off. & eat it later. We crried the elk to the truck. My bol took it into town. He was gonna pick up some onion & mushrooms & a couple potatoes. We had been eating oatmeal & dehydrated meals for 5 days now. Backstraps& potatoes were sounding pretty good. My brother & I went back out hunting. My bol went into town dropped the meat off came back to spike camp. Well we had about 3 lbs of backstrap wrpped in plastic. He tucked it under a rock to keep it out of the sun. When we got back we went to cooking. Sliced up onion ,mushrooms , Went to get the straps GONE. We figure a pine martin came into camp & took them. We ended up eating the onions & mushrooms with a dehydrated beef patty. We still laugh at that one
06-04-2009 | 12:15 PM
#16
Boone & Crockett
Joined: Jan 2004
Posts: 12,823
Likes: 5
From: Eastern PA
RE: Tell me a story
Many, many moons ago I was archery hunting. On the ground next to a big oak tree. At first light I could see a deer working toward me. As it got closer I could see it was a little forkhorn.
As he got to about 15 yds he turned broadside and put his head down to I guess grab an acorn. I eased up the recurve (this was even before compounds) drew and let er fly. The little buck fell right down then got up scrambling for distance. I thought to my self 'looks like I got me a nice fat little farm buck". I sat down and lit a smoke (back when I didn't know any better) and relaxed until it got good and light. After about 20 mins I gathered up my stuff and headed to where the buck stood. After about 10 steps I almost walked right into my arrow. The Bear razorhead was center punched into a 1/2" branch that I never saw in the low light. The arrow never reached the deer. All I ate that year was humble pie.
As he got to about 15 yds he turned broadside and put his head down to I guess grab an acorn. I eased up the recurve (this was even before compounds) drew and let er fly. The little buck fell right down then got up scrambling for distance. I thought to my self 'looks like I got me a nice fat little farm buck". I sat down and lit a smoke (back when I didn't know any better) and relaxed until it got good and light. After about 20 mins I gathered up my stuff and headed to where the buck stood. After about 10 steps I almost walked right into my arrow. The Bear razorhead was center punched into a 1/2" branch that I never saw in the low light. The arrow never reached the deer. All I ate that year was humble pie.
06-04-2009 | 01:23 PM
#17
Spike
Joined: Jul 2008
Posts: 71
Likes: 0
From: Lloydminster, Saskatchewan
RE: Tell me a story
This is a true story happened about 15 years ago. My hunting buddy, myself and my buddy’s brother put in for a mule deer draw tags and we were all lucky enough to get drawn. We live in Central Saskatchewan and the hunting area was in Southern Saskatchewan. Buddy’s bro had a friend in the draw zone so we made arrangements to stay with his friend for a few days. Thought it should be a good hunt as the friend guides a bit for goose hunters coming out of the U.S. and knew the area well.
Headed out about noon on Tuesday so we could be settled in and ready to go Wednesday morning. Roads were a little icy so we did not make real good time. Arrived at the friends house 7 that night. We got shown around the house and first thing mentioned was there was no sewage system in the house so we would have to make use of a bucket or the outhouse. No phone service but we were not worried as we had brought along the cell phone. Got introduced to the friends wife and of course had to check out the friends rifle which was an 30-06.
Friend advised us that his truck had broken down so the friend and the brother headed to town with the truck and cell phone, to try to find another truck to borrow for the morning. That left myself, my bud and the friend’s wife at the house. We ran our gear downstairs where we were to bunk and got our equipment ready for the next day’s hunt. Got back upstairs, cracked a bottle of rye and played a little cribbage. After a bit, the wife came up to us and asked if we had any spare ammo for her husband’s rifle. My bud was just getting up to go grab some and I thinking that this was an odd request, I told the wife we shot 270’s and the shells would not work in an 30-06 (270’s will fire in an 30-06) and we left it at that. Played some more cards and a half hour or so later, we heard the front door slam shut. Never thought much about it, maybe the wife had to go to the biffey. Ten minutes later she comes back in but through the back door. I take a look her way and see she is toting the 30-06. She points it at us tells us to go to the living room and take a seat. Not one to argue with someone with a weapon, bud and I head over to the couch and take a seat. I look over to my bud (who has asthma) and he is holding his chest. Thinking he is having heart problems, I start to get up to tend to him and the lady yells at me to sit down. And when I start to say that I just want to help my bud, she shouts sit down again and sticks her finger in the trigger guard. I sat down. In a few minutes, my bud looks like he is over. The lady now is pacing the living room with the rifle and won’t let us speak. Not sure how long this went on for but she came by me with the muzzle pointing down and away from me. I jumped up grabbed the barrel with my left hand and grabbed the stock with my right. We both struggled to get control of the rifle and when she could not get the rifle away from me, she put her finger through the trigger guard and pulled the trigger. I readied myself for the blast. When the rifle went “click” she let go and ran off into the kitchen. My bud went after her while I looked for a place to dump the rifle. Threw the rifle under the couch and headed for the kitchen and quickly looked back to the couch. Damb muzzle sticking out. Kick that under and the stock then stuck out. Finally got it stuffed away and made it to the kitchen. There was the woman punching and tearing away at my bud. I stepped in, angled myself so I did not have to worry about my family jewels and started blocking all of her hits. She finally played herself out and told us to get the hell out of her house. Great idea. While my bud went downstairs and got his gear ready and put on his winter gear, I kept an eye on her in the kitchen. When he was done, he came up and I went downstairs. Packed my gear, put on my insulated hunting coveralls and trucked everything upstairs. No one was in the kitchen. I headed into the living room and my bud is watching this woman who is lying on the floor kicking and moaning. Not really wanting to walk the 5 miles to the next farm and with no way to contact the brother and his friend, we decide to sit tight and keep an eye on her. After a half hour of this, she finally jumps up and heads upstairs. We let her go and just keep our rifles ready just in case she has another surprise for us. Nothing happens but it is starting to get awful hot sitting around in our insulated outfits. Start looking around and found that when she headed upstairs, she cranked the thermostat to its max. Turned that down things got a little more comfortable. Just had to now sit and wait until the brother turned up. After what seemed forever, the bro and his friend showed up at. It was about 2 in the morning. After explaining the situation, we all agreed to leave the friends place with the friend telling us to report her to the police as soon as we could. Not wanting the hassles of courts etc, we just told the friend, she was his problem and away we went. Now to find a place to sleep. Stopped in at the closest hotel. Door was locked. Using the cell phone we called the number on the window but no response. Dambed small town Saskatchewan. Drove to the next town, same thing. Third town, the door to the hotel is open but no rooms are open. Looked around the desk and there is a drawer open and it is full of keys. We grab a key, find the room it matches and open the door. No one in it and no bedding. Who cares about bedding. We grab our gear, spread out our sleeping bags and get some sleep. Next moring we get up and find the restaurant is together with the hotel. We sit down at a table and wait to be served. The waitress comes over and asked if we stayed in the hotel as she did not remember booking us in. We just told her we came in late last night, tried the door on a room, it was open so we made ourselves at home. Her comment was boy are you lucky, I must have forgot to lock the door when I took the linen out. She gave us the room at half price for that night because it had no linen.
After that, I can’t remember if we finished our hunt or just headed home. Guess that part of the trip wasn’t that exciting.
About a year later, we heard through my bud’s bro that his friend did get shot by his woman. Just glad it wasn’t us.
Headed out about noon on Tuesday so we could be settled in and ready to go Wednesday morning. Roads were a little icy so we did not make real good time. Arrived at the friends house 7 that night. We got shown around the house and first thing mentioned was there was no sewage system in the house so we would have to make use of a bucket or the outhouse. No phone service but we were not worried as we had brought along the cell phone. Got introduced to the friends wife and of course had to check out the friends rifle which was an 30-06.
Friend advised us that his truck had broken down so the friend and the brother headed to town with the truck and cell phone, to try to find another truck to borrow for the morning. That left myself, my bud and the friend’s wife at the house. We ran our gear downstairs where we were to bunk and got our equipment ready for the next day’s hunt. Got back upstairs, cracked a bottle of rye and played a little cribbage. After a bit, the wife came up to us and asked if we had any spare ammo for her husband’s rifle. My bud was just getting up to go grab some and I thinking that this was an odd request, I told the wife we shot 270’s and the shells would not work in an 30-06 (270’s will fire in an 30-06) and we left it at that. Played some more cards and a half hour or so later, we heard the front door slam shut. Never thought much about it, maybe the wife had to go to the biffey. Ten minutes later she comes back in but through the back door. I take a look her way and see she is toting the 30-06. She points it at us tells us to go to the living room and take a seat. Not one to argue with someone with a weapon, bud and I head over to the couch and take a seat. I look over to my bud (who has asthma) and he is holding his chest. Thinking he is having heart problems, I start to get up to tend to him and the lady yells at me to sit down. And when I start to say that I just want to help my bud, she shouts sit down again and sticks her finger in the trigger guard. I sat down. In a few minutes, my bud looks like he is over. The lady now is pacing the living room with the rifle and won’t let us speak. Not sure how long this went on for but she came by me with the muzzle pointing down and away from me. I jumped up grabbed the barrel with my left hand and grabbed the stock with my right. We both struggled to get control of the rifle and when she could not get the rifle away from me, she put her finger through the trigger guard and pulled the trigger. I readied myself for the blast. When the rifle went “click” she let go and ran off into the kitchen. My bud went after her while I looked for a place to dump the rifle. Threw the rifle under the couch and headed for the kitchen and quickly looked back to the couch. Damb muzzle sticking out. Kick that under and the stock then stuck out. Finally got it stuffed away and made it to the kitchen. There was the woman punching and tearing away at my bud. I stepped in, angled myself so I did not have to worry about my family jewels and started blocking all of her hits. She finally played herself out and told us to get the hell out of her house. Great idea. While my bud went downstairs and got his gear ready and put on his winter gear, I kept an eye on her in the kitchen. When he was done, he came up and I went downstairs. Packed my gear, put on my insulated hunting coveralls and trucked everything upstairs. No one was in the kitchen. I headed into the living room and my bud is watching this woman who is lying on the floor kicking and moaning. Not really wanting to walk the 5 miles to the next farm and with no way to contact the brother and his friend, we decide to sit tight and keep an eye on her. After a half hour of this, she finally jumps up and heads upstairs. We let her go and just keep our rifles ready just in case she has another surprise for us. Nothing happens but it is starting to get awful hot sitting around in our insulated outfits. Start looking around and found that when she headed upstairs, she cranked the thermostat to its max. Turned that down things got a little more comfortable. Just had to now sit and wait until the brother turned up. After what seemed forever, the bro and his friend showed up at. It was about 2 in the morning. After explaining the situation, we all agreed to leave the friends place with the friend telling us to report her to the police as soon as we could. Not wanting the hassles of courts etc, we just told the friend, she was his problem and away we went. Now to find a place to sleep. Stopped in at the closest hotel. Door was locked. Using the cell phone we called the number on the window but no response. Dambed small town Saskatchewan. Drove to the next town, same thing. Third town, the door to the hotel is open but no rooms are open. Looked around the desk and there is a drawer open and it is full of keys. We grab a key, find the room it matches and open the door. No one in it and no bedding. Who cares about bedding. We grab our gear, spread out our sleeping bags and get some sleep. Next moring we get up and find the restaurant is together with the hotel. We sit down at a table and wait to be served. The waitress comes over and asked if we stayed in the hotel as she did not remember booking us in. We just told her we came in late last night, tried the door on a room, it was open so we made ourselves at home. Her comment was boy are you lucky, I must have forgot to lock the door when I took the linen out. She gave us the room at half price for that night because it had no linen.
After that, I can’t remember if we finished our hunt or just headed home. Guess that part of the trip wasn’t that exciting.
About a year later, we heard through my bud’s bro that his friend did get shot by his woman. Just glad it wasn’t us.
06-04-2009 | 02:53 PM
#20
Typical Buck
Joined: Jan 2007
Posts: 552
Likes: 0
From: Long Island, NY
RE: Tell me a story
I rattle. Again I rattle. Oh, oh...here comes one. Closer. Slowly closer. He's 30yds & closing/ I can see him drooling. He's grunting, looking. He appears to be an 8pt. It took forever before I could draw my Dale Dye recurve. I shoot. There he goes with a lot of arrow sticking out. No penetration. I look, and look, and look. No luck.
Fast forward 3 weeks later. Mid December. Same area. This time sitting on a rock rather than in a tree. Hear noise. Oh, oh...here comes one. Can't see it. Only hear it. There he is and it's a nice buck. Suns in my eyes. He's 18yds away. I let the Kustom King arrow fly aiming right for his starboard side lung area. He scrambles & turns inside out. I can't see for the sun. There he goes. I get up and look. And look. Wait. the blood is not on the ground but sprayed across that huge rock. Now how did it get there. I'm confused. I give him time and get my 2 buddies. "I hit one," I say. "Where?" they ask. "Lungs," I say. "Starboard side".
300 yards later we find him and he is thesame 8pt I shouldered 3 weeks earlier.
Where did I hit him you ask?
Port side femeral! I still don't know how! [
]
Now every time I get one they ask, "Where did ya hit 'em"!
Fast forward 3 weeks later. Mid December. Same area. This time sitting on a rock rather than in a tree. Hear noise. Oh, oh...here comes one. Can't see it. Only hear it. There he is and it's a nice buck. Suns in my eyes. He's 18yds away. I let the Kustom King arrow fly aiming right for his starboard side lung area. He scrambles & turns inside out. I can't see for the sun. There he goes. I get up and look. And look. Wait. the blood is not on the ground but sprayed across that huge rock. Now how did it get there. I'm confused. I give him time and get my 2 buddies. "I hit one," I say. "Where?" they ask. "Lungs," I say. "Starboard side".
300 yards later we find him and he is thesame 8pt I shouldered 3 weeks earlier.
Where did I hit him you ask?
Port side femeral! I still don't know how! [
]Now every time I get one they ask, "Where did ya hit 'em"!