- Joined
- Oct 31, 2014
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I was granted permission to hunt this farm about 5 years ago. How pleasing it is to be able to walk the long dirt lane back to the far reaches of the property in the cold wind and sunshine a little after 3 pm, especially since missing all of last season with a busted foot that now sports 10 screws and two plates thanks to a motorcycle accident in September of 2020. But I've been determined to hunt this year, and hunt I have been doing. The 45/70 toppled over the young buck opening morning of firearms season, and I've not filled a doe tag since. Not for lack of trying.
Saturday evening I gambled and sat on the other end of the back 40 instead of my normal area. Sure enough, the 4 does would have been in my lap had I done so. As it was they were too far away with no good way to sneak closer. This afternoon, with the wind direction I did want to be closer to where I've seen them come out of the woods this season but had to take in consideration where my scent would blow to. I took another gamble, and parked my butt at the base of a small Black Walnut tree at the near the woods but skirting the field edge. The tree trunk and brush were behind to break up my outline, but I was pretty exposed.
On the good chance the ladies arrive near the same time and place as two evenings prior my chances were good.
At approximately 4:40 pm the parade began out of the woods along the far fence line where I normally sit, but the prevailing wind wouldn't permit it this time. They were just too far for a shot with the PRB and a new gun that I am not sure of the trajectory at over 150 yards. They appeared to be heading to the neighboring field on a mission. Didn't think I had a chance at one of them this outing, when the skippies out front veered to my left. That was interesting, as it changed the direction of the other two larger deer bringing up the rear. Still too far. Watch, sit tight, see what happens. Then, all at once, as if something to their off side spooked them, they flushed my direction. Yes, they were going to come back to the area they normally converge upon, only this time I was there. It wasn't the best of situations, because if they rushed in too fast and close I may not get lined up before being spotted, and one of the youngsters was making a beeline right at me. When Momma checked up broadside a good piece out I already had a steady rest on the cross sticks, sighted high up on her shoulder and gently touched off. The impact was nearly as loud as the report, and down she instantly went. Pandamonium broke out and deer were scattering in all directions, except the larger doe I just shot. I suspected a spine hit prompting a fast reload. It was obvious she wasn't getting up and I walked out to give her a finishing shot lower into the chest cavity.
This old, new Lyman GPR was christened rather well. 96 long strides from the sitting tree to her final resting place was paced off, twice. Skinning her out this evening round ball that broke the spine was against the offside hide. It held up impressively for what it plowed through.
Weighs in at 203.1 grains.
I'll be in the market for a round ball mold eventually, but am pleased I've keep those Hornaday Swaged balls around all this time. Sure is good to layer up and make another hunting memory, as well as some meat.