This is an interesting topic and it’s taken me a while to think of a story that i might want to share. I’ve shot quite a few moose and deer and there’s an exciting story behind each adventure. I recently thought about writing some short stories about some of the most memorable ones, and the following story would be included.
I started hunting when I was 15 and deer hunted a bit while in high school with an assist on a fawn (there’s a story there too lol). Once I went to college I didn’t deer hunt much and this pattern continued until I was 23. At this point, I was working seasonally for the MNR in Ignace and deer were rare as hens teeth around there. While working there, I learned that some of the guys from the office would go to the Fort Frances area to hunt deer. I was somewhat surprised to hear this as I mistakenly believed that it was in the middle of the boreal forest. I soon learned that to the west of Fort Frances, there is a vibrant farming community there. Eventually, a group of 4 of us started going down for annual week long hunts. The area that we hunted was split between 2 WMU’s… 7B and 10. The first unit is mostly boreal forest with a few small farms at the southern edge of the Unit. To the south, in Unit 10, the ground flattens out and it’s mostly farms interspersed with large and small bush lots and bogs. In those days, there were more deer in Unit 10 due to the farms, however there were very few tags available hence we hunted in Unit 7B. In those days, we stayed with a guy named Chester who was an elderly bachelor and was a relative of a fellow from work.
During our third year hunting from Chester’s, he informed us that he would be moving to a new house in Pinewood in a couple of months and he would let us stay with him the following year. Pinewood is in the heart of Unit 10 (farm country) which meant the opportunity to hunt more deer. Once Chester gave us the news, one of my buddies and I decided that we would spend the next day scouting out the new area. As luck would have it, my buddie’s neighbour’s brother is a farmer in the Pinewood areas, so we knocked on his door and introduced ourselves and asked him to show us around. He said yes, so we jumped into his truck and we drove a few concession roads while he pointed out where we could and couldn’t hunt.
Eventually, we came to a couple of miles of fields that was owned by a German landowner. Once of the fields had a large wood lot in the middle of it and there was bush at the back end that flanked the Pinewood River. The farmer mentioned that he had shot a 10-pointer there the week before.
After the tour, my buddy and I decided to hunt the field where the farmer had shot his buck -
see Google image below for layout. As we walked into the field, we decided to split up and walk to around to the back of the 15 acre woodlot and compare notes. Once I got to the back end of the woodlot, I was surprised to see about 20 deer out feeding along the bush that flanked the river. I had never seen so many deer in my life. As I stood there staring at the deer, I could also see a large overturned stump just inside the bush line. Further study of the stump made me realize that it wasn’t a stump at all but a large buck. Up went the rifle, and as i tried to find the buck in my scope I realized that it had lost its nitrogen charge and it was foggy. I could just make out the buck (225 yards away)through the fog so took an offhand shot.
All of a sudden there was stampede of deer running around. Surprisingly, the buck never moved and I continued to fire at it and empty my clip. As I was firing, my buddy had gotten around to his side of the woodlot and had seen the buck as well and started firing too. Once the smoke cleared, not suprisingly the buck was gone so I started walking towards my buddy and was just about got run over by a doe as is blasted out of the woodlot as it bounded towards the woods along the river. The whole event was incredible. As I met up with my buddy to discuss what just transpired, incredibly the buck ran back out into the field and just stood there. There was no point in me shooting as i could hardly see it through the scope, so my buddy launched a few bullets at it as it ran down the field and back into the woods. We quickly realized that we were in deer heaven and decided to spend the rest of the day in the field. First though, we needed to figure out what to do with my rifle. Luckily, my buddy had a spare .303 in the truck however he only had 5 shells for it. That was concerning since we just went through WW III a few minutes ago. We decided that we would check out the 2 local stores to see if they had any bullets… not! I took the .303 and made a commitment that I wouldn’t shoot unless it was a sure thing. My buddy went back to the corner of the woodlot to where he had shooting earlier. I went to where we last saw the buck leave the field - which was a point of bush that extended into the field.
My chosen spot was next to a scrape under a birch tree at the tip of the point of bush. As I sat on the snow-covered ground at the base of the tree, I felt the wind cut through me. A front was moving through and the winds were picking up and I started to get a chill. I should mention that my buddy had shot a buck himself that morning and I had cut the tarsal glands off and tied them to my boots. As I sat there, I shuffled my feet around, kicking snow into a pile all the while trying to stay warm. Eventually, I felt cold and exposed so I decided to move closer to the base of the point of bush. As luck would have it, I found a large fallen poplar tree which created a natural ground blind for me to hide in out of the wind. My back was to the tip of the point of bush were I had been sitting, and I was facing the bush line that flanked the river.
Some time afterwards, I glanced to my right into the field and noticed 2 does feeding 10 -15 yards away. They had entered the field from behind and snuck up on me. I had never been that close to a live deer before and needless to say I had a good shake going on. After a couple of minutes a couple of more deer came into view and as I watched them eat, poop, and prance about, I thought to myself that with all these does around, there has to be a buck nearby. So I slowly cranked my head around and looked directly behind me and saw a buck standing rock-still under the same birch tree (30 yards away) that I had been sitting under not long before. It likely could smell the scent that I had laid down and was on full alert. With the does still feeding 20 yards away and the buck on full alert, I was convinced that I would get busted and the deer would take off. I was petrified to move and started thinking of excuses that I would tell the rest of the guys on how I messed up this opportunity. After what seemed like hours, the buck looked away and that gave me an opportunity to take off my mitts. A few minutes later, the buck gave me another opportunity to take off my hat, then my glasses. All of a sudden, I could see the tension leave the buck's body and he decided to walk out into the field and join the does. At this point, I raised my rifle and fired at the buck from my off shoulder. The buck was probably 30 yards away and I had no trouble finding it in my scope. After the shot, the does blasted off din different directions and the buck ran further into the field. He only went 75 yards before he plowing face first into the snow for good. I couldn’t believe it, I got him, my first buck! Once I gathered all my belongings, I ran into the field to my trophy. I met my buddy there and he had seen the does and thought that I couldn’t help myself and had shot one (no doe tag). I lifted the head out the snow and asked him “Does this look like a doe to you?” After a few high-fives we dragged the buck the half mile back to the truck… in fact I think my buddy did most of the pulling.
Back at Chester’s we met up with the other guys from the group who hadn’t had any luck that afternoon. After taking off all our gear we gave a long and drawn out account of our day with emphasis on seeing deer, shooting at a big bucks, missing the buck, then shooting some more, etc. In fact they felt quite dejected until I got to the part that I had shot the buck and it was in the back of the truck. It took a few moments for this to sink in before they raced out the door to see if they heard me correctly. That was funny! The buck was a 3.5 year old 10-pointer. I can’t say for certain if it was the same buck that we had shot at earlier, but you never know.
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I'm the guy on the left.
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