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Always be prepared when approaching shot game.

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Not a deer or anything that could hurt me. I am put in mind of an opossum that we got when a friend and I were running a trap line. Got one of the biggest opossum I had ever seen. I clubbed it in the head and put it in my basket. Later I felt it moving, clubbed it again. We got back to the truck and went to a quick stop and got a cup of coffee. When we came out ‘possum had crawled past the outer animals in my basket and was crawling about in the back of the truck. Beat its head to mush.
Went back home to the skinning party for the morning and when we got to the ‘possum he was still alive. We shot it in the brain stem, tried to crush its chest and finally ended skinning it alive.
It’s brain had to be destroyed, and be beyond pain, but we just couldn’t kill it.
Life can be pretty tough.


I know that possum, tenngun! His name was "Michael" and he made a few movies sometime around Halloween every year. :eek:
 
I just came across this post and had to laugh a little. I was squirrel hunting a couple days ago and was hunting a spot that had 3 big greys running around. After a game of cat and mouse one perched itself on a limb about 15 feet up. I sighted it had a huge oak behind him and let it RIP. Saw the squirrel fly out of the tree like I've seen numerous times marked the tree and started quarter calling. Sure enough another one came out and bang see it down and its getting dark. So went to collect. Grabbed the one no problem. Walked up to the tree shot and there it was on it's back. Reached down and poof the darn thing jumped up and ran into a tree. No blood nothing. Never seen any thing like it. It was crazy close. Normally never worry about it I use a 22 mag and it does the job when you hit. Just crazy...
 
Tree rats can be savage. When hunting as a youngster with my new 20 gauge (step up from my .410) I knocked a gray out of a beech tree. When I went to collect it, it was still much alive and barked as it made two short bounds toward me! The 20 gauge took care of that, blasting it under the leaf litter. When I met up with dad he inquired about the state of my headless pulp of a squirrel. I told him it charged me. For some reason he thought that was hilarious. I carried a .22 pistol as a "back-up gun" after that for any more close-in squirrel work.
 
A friend of mine grew up on a cattle ranch in Minnesota. He told me that when he was a boy he spent most of a morning sneaking up on a "cute little chipmunk" that lived in or near a stone fence they had. He wanted the little varmint as a pet. Finally he got close enough to grab it. He said it seemed like it took him longer to let go than it did to catch it! Critter chewed his fingers up purty good!
 
I don't fool around with squirrels. Don't ever touch them barehanded and if there is any indication they are still alive, they get a pill of some kind in the brain before I pick them up.
 
An ancient prehistoric adage to live by:

"It's the "dead" ones that can and will hurt or kill you."

Always approach downed game with care.
And it don't hurt to put another shot into 'em when they be down.
If it really be dead, it won't care if you shoot it again.
If it ain't quite dead yet that second (or third ... or 4th...) shot just might save your hide.

A second (or third) shot to the head (or base of the skull severing the spine) usually takes all the fight out of 'em.
 
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Buddy of mine flattened a big buck last year. Called me from his tree stand to come help him drag it out. He climbed down to wait for me. We walked over to the deer (only a 50 yd shot), but it wasnt there. Guess he only clipped it -- stunned. I'm glad we didnt walk up just as the buck "woke up." Could have been exciting.
 
I was hunting in western South Dakota with a friend who’d already bagged his buck. He was along without a gun, just an observer. I was sitting about 100 yards out in a grassy meadow, away from pine woods. We had seen a nice buck previously come out of the trees and into the meadow to feed. The grass was neck high on a deer.

Sure enough, just before sunset, the buck walked out of the timber into the meadow. I drew a bead on his neck and fired. He dropped in his tracks like a ton of bricks. My buddy, who was kneeling behind me started hooraying me about the great shot I’d made. I turned around to face him and he started shaking my hand and congratulating me. While shaking my hand, the look on his face changed dramatically and he says, “your buck!” and pointed. I whirled around just in time to see his rear end disappear into the trees.

After a very thorough search, all we found was 1 tuft of hair where he’d fallen. I suspect I just clipped his spine with the bullet and stunned him. Had I reloaded right after the shot, instead of celebrating the great shot, I might have brought home the venison.
 
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