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Plumber posted a story about his Deer taken with a Marlin.
I like stories. Here is one of mine.
The year is 1976. Location was Allegheny National Forest in NW Pennsylvania.
There is a open area along an abandoned logging road where we all park our campers for our annual excursion through the mountains. There were 21 hunters in our group that year. Multiple campers (trailers, trucks, buses).
It was a tough week all around. It was Thursday and only 3 deer on the game pole. Much less than normal. I decided on a long trek to the far side of the next ridge. It was late afternoon as I worked my way across the high side of the ridge. All of a sudden, I spotted a buck, down hill and about 130 yards. The time was 4:15 pm and it gets really dark in those woods at 5:00 pm sharp. I lowered myself into a sitting position and took careful aim through the 3X9 scope on my Marlin 30-30. The rifle cracked and the deer bolted. Then it stopped behind a forked tree but I could see the vitals between the V of the tree. Again, I took careful aim and the 30-30 barked again. Again, the deer bolted and out of sight. I worked my way downhill until I found blood splatter on the snow. Then I tracked the deer about 70 yards to where it folded up into a pile.
I tagged him and began the field dressing process. All the while, I had a feeling that I was being watched. Ever get that feeling?? Anyway, I determined that the first shot went low and passed high through both front legs. The second shot went through the lower chest area and split the heart wide open.
Still having an uneasy feeling, I completed the field dressing and attached my drag rope. By this time, it was after 4:30. All of a sudden, a hunter walks out from behind a tree and tries to claim my deer. He said that he had shot it and had been tracking it. My answer was, "whoever puts him down owns him". Case closed and he left after a brief debate.
Being it was almost dark, I towed the deer to a nearby camper that I had seen earlier in the week. Asking them for a ride back to my camp, their answer was, "our truck won't run but we'll buy your deer". "No thanks" was my answer. Both the hunters were older guys and pretty much drunk. By that time it was 5:00 and getting real dark.
I took out my flashlight and began the long drag around the bottom of the ridge to the base of the logging trail located below our camp. It took me 2 hours to get to the bottom of the logging trail that lead up to camp. That logging trail is over a mile, up hill and I was exhausted. (I had just bought a new Jeep CJ7 about a month before the trip and it was back in camp.) So I sat down against a log and waited another 20 minutes or so before my hunting buddies showed up with the Jeep. I ask, "where you been?" They explained that they knew where I was - but - supper was ready and they didn't want it to get cold.
What are friend for?
That's my story.
Thanks. Grey
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