Steve, that's not a bad day at all. Five does is one heck of a lot more than some guys saw that day. Every deer one sees and lets walk is something new learned.
I always loved my Loggy because it provided versitility, and by the time gun season rolled around, if I hadn't already filled my buck tag, any buck I decided to concentrate on for gun was reasonably patterned, and I was in the stand at 04:30 watching the meteorite showers overhead, and enjoying the solitude of that cold opener. I love the smell of fall leaves, inhaling that sweet decay of summer touches something primordial inside my spirit. Seeing that first line of grey on the horizon my heartbeat ramps up, and when I can see further out than the closest tree the adreneline begins to inject itself into my system until it's finally light enough to see, whereupon the eyes begin to tear apart the surrounding foliage for that buck that's due any moment.
I love getting deep into the woods early and letting the latecomers push the deer to me. My stand is usually over an escape trail that allows the luxury of letting the first deer to come by go in peace. Other deer following their lead will come along shortly, and usually in that second wave a buck or two is following the does, thus the buck tag gets filled. Later in the day, if regulations allow, a doe or two will be down as well, depending upon the number of tags I possess. As you well know, that's when the work really begins, the dreaded dragging process.
I'd patterned a mature ten point years ago, and watched him stand on his hind legs to rub his face on a branch way above the ground for some reason. When he started walking toward me I tucked my chin and was ready to draw when he came down the trail. Unfortunately I missed the fact that a second trail vectored off the mail trail, and he took that one, and by the time I uncovered to see what was taking so long, I had a bad angle on a shot I wasn't willing to take. DRAT!
With gun season a week away, I went out a couple mornings to see if he was maintaining his pattern, staying just out of the area I intended to place my stand in. He came by every morning just at daybreak like clockwork, so I knew that come opening morning, unless someone else had patterned him as well, he was going into the freezer.
Opening morning I secured the Loggy to my chosen tree, the same one I always hunted from, one that took me above a trail in a crabapple thicket to overlook the first bench at the base of the hill he'd parallel come opening morning. I secured my rifle to my pull up rope and climbed into my stand and as I was bringing up my other foot to secure it to the bungees to begin climbing, I lost my balance and had to step out. When I did I knocked over my rifle and stepped on the scope. Regaining my stand I climbed and pulled up my rifle, loaded it, and hunkered in to wait on that ten point.
Sure enough I heard a deer running, heard it stop, move again, stop, move again, and stop yet once more, but it wasn't quite light enough to see yet. Silence~ I finally saw the deer's head move as it scanned downhill for threats but still could not make out horns or anything else, though I knew the deer was on the trail the big buck took every morning. A few minutes passed, it got lighter, and then I saw the head move and knew it was my buck when I saw those big antlers swing. I brought up the rifle for a thirty yard shot, sighted in on the sweet spot and fired. The buck never moved.
I attempted to put another round in the chamber but ended up with a double feed. I cleared the jam, got a round in the chamber, and the deer began to slowly walk into the crease of the saddle, and was now 40 yards away. I shot again. Nothing, no indication of a hit. This time the big boy took off down the hollow, and I knew I'd not see him again the rest of the season as he was headed over into the state park where there was no hunting.
Later I had a little seven point come by at 10 yards, I shot and watched the round go under the deer. "What the…????" Fortunately the deer didn't do anything but freeze in place, so I sighted down the side of the barrel and dropped him in place. Later that day after dropping the deer off at the house I went to the range and attempted to check battle-sight zero at 25 meters. It hit the bottom of the cardboard the target was mounted on. Evidently when I'd stepped on the scope it had knocked everything out of alignment, so I had to remount the bases and the scope, and sight in from scratch.
I saw that big boy several more times over the next couple of years, but always at a distance. He changed his pattern during subsequent seasons, and no matter what I did to overcome his pattern changes, he was always one step ahead of me. The last time I saw him he was being loaded on the back of a PA Game Commission roadkill vehicle…he'd been hit by a car. One of his tines had been knocked off, and I spent two hours looking until I found it. I cut off about three inches of the tip and after drilling a hole through it, wore it around my neck for a few years until the necklace burned up in the house fire in "05."
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