The Farmer's Deer – by Maple

Thanks to our pal ‘Maple’ for sending in this awesome story of his experience during the shotgun season. Man, some guys have all the luck!!

The Farmer’s Deer – by Maple

Last Monday was the start of shotgun season in our neck of the woods. As I was too comfy to get up before dawn, I only got to the farm about 9AM and started stripping bark off cedar logs for a wood-client of the farmer.

The temps had dropped to -8 C overnight, up to zero during the day, and sunny. I worked at that ’till 2:30 then drove back to the wood’s edge before walking to my stand. Wouldn’t ya know it, now that turkey season is over, they’re all over the place.

While we were trimming trees, the farmer had mentioned that he’d bought a new chest freezer and was expecting delivery next week. He quipped that it’d be filled with venison soon. Now, I didn’t know if he was joking or not, but I took it as a suggestion. He doesn’t hunt much at all and his wife doesn’t care for venison. She added that he’d be eating a lot of raw venison if that were the case ’cause she wasn’t going to cook it for him. Go figure. Guess she’s a beef and potatoes girl.  

Monday as I was walking in I saw three deer in a group with no guaranteed shot (I’m a lousy free-hand shooter), so I let them scamper into the trees hoping they would return later.
No such luck as that was all I saw for the day.

Tuesday morning I was back working with the farmer, bucking up and splitting wood; sugar maple, yellow birch and black cherry. I hate splitting yellow birch. We managed about 4 cords. Come 2:30 we quit and suited up in hunter orange. His was pretty faded. I headed into the back stand again while he went to a slight ridge he said he had not hunted on since he was a teenager. I was still, cool, and I took it all in.

(Note the laneway from the right)

About 4:10, I closed my eyes for a few minutes. Don’t know how often I did that, but the last time I eased one eye open a slit, there was a deer!

No telling quite what, but he was slinking up the side of the lane to the right with spruce and such between he and I. Every once in a while I caught the glint of bone on his head. He was a good one! Whatever scent he was following was most certainly that of gas and bar oil from my boots while walking in.

He took forever!! I had the time to take my pounding pulse (110) and calm my breathing somewhat. What was he doing!!?? What was he smelling? Why didn’t he walk? I could have taken a 50 yard facing shot through twigs, but waited. I knew he had to turn even if he was going to leave…as long as I didn’t spook him. I didn’t want that!

Finally, he decided on something with his cervid mind, and plodded to the right to skirt some low spruce. I was ready. At the shot I saw his side ripple and he stumbled. He circled back into the bush and I saw him falter 40 yards away, carrying some serious headgear with him.

I called the farmer and he came over to put his tag on the deer. He said the deer weren’t this big when he was a teenager. Heck, my deer weren’t this big ever! Field dressed at 218.

I hope his freezer arrives on time.