What I had envisioned as a successful morning just hours before turned out to be nothing but a waste a time. After three longs hours in the stand I decided that if I was going to shoot a deer I needed to take a different approach. Hunters always say if the deer aren’t coming to you, then you need to go to the deer, and that’s just what we did. I got on the phone recruited my dad and an old buddy to come help with the new plan; an organized deer drive, otherwise known as walking and blocking. An organized deer drive is a hunting technique in which one or more hunters, designated as “shooters,” are put in positions to intercept deer that are being pushed by “drivers” (Deer Hunting Tips). Essentially this method allows the hunter to create his/her own luck, and that’s just what I needed.
Twenty minutes passed before the dust trail from the little, white Toyota pick-up carrying an old hunting buddy could be seen coming down the road a mile away. As the truck turned into the driveway my mind raced back to memories from past hunting excursions, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. As he cranked the truck into the field the sound of squeaky brakes echoed into the distance, Aric had arrived. The tall, lanky man in his mid-twenties that stepped out of the truck was wearing a crazy hunter orange hat that his dad had given him, and was long overdue for a good shave. His father had taught him everything he knew about hunting, until the day of his passing a few years back. Now the only family he really had was his mother and us. None-the-less he had a smile on his face that stretched from ear to ear.
After a quick hello he looked at me and said, “Let’s do this.” It was decided that my dad and I would be the shooters and Stuart, Phil and Aric would be the drivers. Dad was the grizzled veteran of the group. His graying beard was proof that he had been on many more hunting excursions than the rest of the group combined, so he knew what he was doing. Being a hunter safety instructor he was always preaching safety first. He had grown out of the shooting stage and was to the point where he got more enjoyment out of watching us succeed. The only reason he was nominated as a shooter was because he’d, “Rather sit than walk all over the whole damn county.”
The plan was for them to start at the east side of a small timber and walk directly to the west through the timber. The three walkers would be evenly spaced in order to make sure every section of the timber was combed. While they walked to the end of the timber, my dad and I took our positions at the west end of the timber. He was situated next to a long row of hay bales that had been stacked along a fence row earlier in the year, while I situated myself at the intersection of two fence rows directly across from my father. Within seconds of getting situated I spotted a nice buck at the edge of the tree line. I couldn’t quite tell how big he was, but as I raised my scope I could tell that he was a definite shooter.
I quickly loaded a bullet into my trusty rifle, a Remington, Model 700, 30.06. As far as I’m concerned there is no better rifle that than that old Remington. It was given to me as a gift from my parents for my fourteenth birthday, and it is what I used to kill my deer in the previous four seasons. It was tried and true. My only concern with the rifle was the new scope I had put on just a few months before the season started. Having been away at college I didn’t have any opportunities to shoot the rifle with the newly mounted scope, so all I could do was trust that my dad had zeroed the old rifle in.
To be continued...
No comments:
Post a Comment