On Sunday Nov. 6th, our scouting day, I found a newly cut road into the South side of a lake I like to hunt around. The road was cut in sometime in the early spring to make way to lots on the lakes edge.
As we slowly drove the road we were seeing LOTS of deer tracks and one set in particular that really caught our eye, right on a doe track. We stopped here and there and piled out of the truck to do those quick 100- 200 yards runs into the woods to piece together what was going on in there. The road in to the first lot is about 1.5 miles, then about another mile or more to the end. Rubs, scrapes and seep cut runs were found through out, a true honey hole.
This area had no hunting pressure, virgin territory. These are the spots that really haunt your mind until you can get in there and get to work.
We split our time between three areas the first couple days seeing some deer here and there.
On Thursday morning I decided to hunt right around my Dad's camp on an oak ridge where I killed my first buck up there back in the day. We spent a couple hours up there but spotted no deer. Before we decended off the upper ridge, a bald eagle landed atop a pine tree about 80 yards from us and peered down at us, never moving. My son says " Dad, that eagle is going to bring us good luck". I just smiled and said " I hope you're right". We decided to head to the general store for breakfast and discuss plans for the remainder of the day.
As we are eating my son says "Dad, why don't we hunt the spot that you said looked really good on the line?"
Around 12 we head back to camp, swap out the pump guns for the .25-06 bolts and head out.
We get to the line walk out of site of the gravel road on the pole line, build a ground blind and settle in for the afternoon.
I did a grunt/bleat sequence about every five minutes and explained to my son how it has brought lots of buck in to me over the years.
At about 2:45 I just finished a sequence and my son looks at me and says"I think I hear a Squirrel over there. Nope, that doesn't sound like any squirrel, you hear it?"
I tell him to get his gun ready.
Here he comes broadside through the woods at about 95 yards. I go to move the bleat can off my lap and it makes a short bleat. The buck stops, turns it's head like a robot, looks in our direction, Hair bristled up ears laid back and on a mission.
Many know that things start happening real quick at this point.
He is moving at a fast paced, stiff legged walk right down on an angle towards us. I get my son ready as quickly as I can, gun up on the trigger stick a ready. I told him don't look at the antlers, pick a spot and touch the trigger off when I stop him.
He comes out to the edge of the line about 65 yards away and I let out two loud mouth grunts and he stops.
"Take him"......... POW!!!!
Hits him a little far back but gets him through the ribs angling out toward the opposite hip. I saw the hair puff up so I knew the deal.
He humps up a bit a cruises back up into the woods with the tail tucked tight. I knew what he was but played it down and just said that you nailed a big buck.
I let him go for about a half hour and slowly worked my way into there. Good blood, no blood. Good blood, no blood. It went on like that for about 150 yards or so.
I knew what I had to do, call the tracking dog, didn't want to risk it.
We met up with the tracker and her dog later in the evening and got the dog on the blood. We jump the buck from its bed 70 yards from where I left the blood sign. He is hurting bad and not feeling good.
We give him a little bit and turn the wire haired dachshund back onto the blood. 45 yards later we come on up the buck and he ambushes the dog. The dog squealls and grabs the buck by the hind leg!
The buck goes about 25 more yards out of sight on a skidder path. The dog goes on the blood again. We stop at the rise in the skidder path and my nephew looks to our left, there he is lying down 7' away with fire in his eyes. He wanted to kill us!!!
The tracker pulls out her .44 mag pistol and give him one in the chest and then another for good measure.
A celebration ensued!! We take some pics, I dress him out, feed the dachshund half the heart and set to dragging. 2:00 am we hit the gravel road, exhausted but still fired up.
I left my son back at camp with my dad, no place to be in those woods that late a night.
We got the buck loaded on the truck and pointed the truck North toward camp.
We pull into the door yard with the horn blowing!!!
My brother Burt's through the door yelling " We got him, we got him!!!!!"
Man, did those celebration bears taste great at 3:00am!!!!!!
My son gave me the hardest, longest hug ever!!!!!
My son officially makes it 4 generations of Maine deer hunters.
A huge thanks to Suzanne Hamilton and her tracking guide Meg, without them, It would have been tough to find him.
216#'s, 12 points, green scores 165 3/4"
As we slowly drove the road we were seeing LOTS of deer tracks and one set in particular that really caught our eye, right on a doe track. We stopped here and there and piled out of the truck to do those quick 100- 200 yards runs into the woods to piece together what was going on in there. The road in to the first lot is about 1.5 miles, then about another mile or more to the end. Rubs, scrapes and seep cut runs were found through out, a true honey hole.
This area had no hunting pressure, virgin territory. These are the spots that really haunt your mind until you can get in there and get to work.
We split our time between three areas the first couple days seeing some deer here and there.
On Thursday morning I decided to hunt right around my Dad's camp on an oak ridge where I killed my first buck up there back in the day. We spent a couple hours up there but spotted no deer. Before we decended off the upper ridge, a bald eagle landed atop a pine tree about 80 yards from us and peered down at us, never moving. My son says " Dad, that eagle is going to bring us good luck". I just smiled and said " I hope you're right". We decided to head to the general store for breakfast and discuss plans for the remainder of the day.
As we are eating my son says "Dad, why don't we hunt the spot that you said looked really good on the line?"
Around 12 we head back to camp, swap out the pump guns for the .25-06 bolts and head out.
We get to the line walk out of site of the gravel road on the pole line, build a ground blind and settle in for the afternoon.
I did a grunt/bleat sequence about every five minutes and explained to my son how it has brought lots of buck in to me over the years.
At about 2:45 I just finished a sequence and my son looks at me and says"I think I hear a Squirrel over there. Nope, that doesn't sound like any squirrel, you hear it?"
I tell him to get his gun ready.
Here he comes broadside through the woods at about 95 yards. I go to move the bleat can off my lap and it makes a short bleat. The buck stops, turns it's head like a robot, looks in our direction, Hair bristled up ears laid back and on a mission.
Many know that things start happening real quick at this point.
He is moving at a fast paced, stiff legged walk right down on an angle towards us. I get my son ready as quickly as I can, gun up on the trigger stick a ready. I told him don't look at the antlers, pick a spot and touch the trigger off when I stop him.
He comes out to the edge of the line about 65 yards away and I let out two loud mouth grunts and he stops.
"Take him"......... POW!!!!
Hits him a little far back but gets him through the ribs angling out toward the opposite hip. I saw the hair puff up so I knew the deal.
He humps up a bit a cruises back up into the woods with the tail tucked tight. I knew what he was but played it down and just said that you nailed a big buck.
I let him go for about a half hour and slowly worked my way into there. Good blood, no blood. Good blood, no blood. It went on like that for about 150 yards or so.
I knew what I had to do, call the tracking dog, didn't want to risk it.
We met up with the tracker and her dog later in the evening and got the dog on the blood. We jump the buck from its bed 70 yards from where I left the blood sign. He is hurting bad and not feeling good.
We give him a little bit and turn the wire haired dachshund back onto the blood. 45 yards later we come on up the buck and he ambushes the dog. The dog squealls and grabs the buck by the hind leg!
The buck goes about 25 more yards out of sight on a skidder path. The dog goes on the blood again. We stop at the rise in the skidder path and my nephew looks to our left, there he is lying down 7' away with fire in his eyes. He wanted to kill us!!!
The tracker pulls out her .44 mag pistol and give him one in the chest and then another for good measure.
A celebration ensued!! We take some pics, I dress him out, feed the dachshund half the heart and set to dragging. 2:00 am we hit the gravel road, exhausted but still fired up.
I left my son back at camp with my dad, no place to be in those woods that late a night.
We got the buck loaded on the truck and pointed the truck North toward camp.
We pull into the door yard with the horn blowing!!!
My brother Burt's through the door yelling " We got him, we got him!!!!!"
Man, did those celebration bears taste great at 3:00am!!!!!!
My son gave me the hardest, longest hug ever!!!!!
My son officially makes it 4 generations of Maine deer hunters.
A huge thanks to Suzanne Hamilton and her tracking guide Meg, without them, It would have been tough to find him.
216#'s, 12 points, green scores 165 3/4"
