Pennsylvania Game News - December 2017 - 15

It's where a doe fell to my arrow during archery season, only to regain its feet
and run off - surviving the shot to turn up
out-of-range multiple times thereafter.
The Ridge also is the place where the
biggest buck in our camp's history - a
nontypical 10-point with a split brow
tine - was killed by Dad's friend Joey
more than 30 years ago.
Joey also made a two-for-one shot on
The Ridge one buck season before antler restrictions, sending a bullet from his
.30-06 through both a 4-point, and the
center of the sapling that stood in front
of it.
Dad gets a gleam in his eye whenever
he tells stories about The Ridge.
"There's something about The Ridge,"
he says. "Even though you have some of
the best encounters up there, things never
seem to quite go your way. Even when
things work out, they don't quite work
out; there are spirits on that ridge!"

^

I'm not superstitious, but these old
stories and past encounters were going
through my mind as I climbed my ladder stand.
The dark shapes and shadows began
to take form in the woods around me
and, at 6:45. I loaded my rifle and settled
in to wait, my senses on alert.
I heard shooting over the back side
of the ridge, on the neighbor's property,
then below me in the valley.
Then, things went quiet.
I was intently watching an opening 80
yards or so in front of me when something made me turn and look to my right.
The gnarly, tall-tined giant was silhouetted against the gray December sky,
not 50 yards away.
When the buck took a step, I could see
he was limping, and I felt a sense of reDECEMBER 2017

sponsibility to harvest the deer.
The buck hugged some cover as he
moved down off the crest of the hill.
I found him in my scope as he walked
around a blowdown, offering no clear
shot.
I looked ahead, trying to determine
which path he'd take, worried he might
walk straight away behind a fallen tree
and never offer a shot.
Then he turned and headed toward
the open woods. I centered the crosshairs
between two small trees, and when the
deer's shoulder moved behind them, the
rifle roared.
The buck tore off down the hill and
I struggled to see him as he disappeared
into a beech thicket. I heard what I
thought was the deer crashing to the
ground, but I couldn't be sure.
I listened intently for a few more minutes before getting down from my stand.
Walking to where the buck had stood,
I saw no sign of a hit.
I walked around the beech thicket to
where I'd last seen him. After 20 yards
more, I looked ahead and spotted him
piled up at the base of two saplings.
I hurried over, but as I got closer, it
looked like the buck had only one antler.
Was this the same deer I thought it
was?
Just then, I saw something sticking out
of the leaves, 10 yards behind where the
deer lay. It was his other antler, knocked
loose from its base.
I counted the five points on a heavy,
beautifully curving right main beam,
then knelt beside the buck and held the
dislodged antler next to it. It had four
main points with a split brow tine - another five in total.
For a moment, I knelt in silence and
gratitude, resting my hand on what
would be the largest buck ever to be tak15
Pennsylvania Game News - December 2017

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