Pennsylvania Game News - August 2009 - 6

tals and the fat little 5-point dropped about 70 yards away. I filled out my tag, placed it on the buck’s ear, and checked my watch to find I was running seriously late. I would never have time to field-dress the buck, drag it back to my truck, get cleaned up, and make it back to school on time. So I concocted Plan B on the spot. I nestled the buck against the trunk of a fallen tree, covered the carcass with leaves, rushed back to my truck, peeled off my camo and hurried off to school, planning to rush back to retrieve the buck during my extended lunch period and recruit someone to cover my next class if I ran late. But then I had another thought. My hunting buddy and fellow scribe P.J. Reilly lived in the area and worked evenings. Maybe he’d be willing to help me out. As soon as I arrived at school (back in the days before cell phones) I called P.J., who was familiar with the woodlot, explained my plight, and told him where he could find the buck. He was only too glad to accommodate me. He located the buck, field-dressed it, dragged it out, and dropped it off in my backyard. Talk about service. Thanks again, P.J. — too bad you’ve moved so far away. Number Six Of all the deer I’ve killed, the one I worked the hardest for was a dandy 6point I bagged during the late season. I had never bagged a 6-point buck with any rifle, shotgun or bow. During Pennsylvania’s 2006-07 season I had a great chance to fill my buck tag on the opening day of archery season. The deer was a nice 8-point, but I figured I had plenty of time to find a bigger one, so I let the deer walk. As bow season drained into the firearms season and firearms season ended, though, nary another buck of any stature crossed my path again. When the 6 late bow and flintlock seasons rolled around after Christmas, I was haunted by the buck tag still hanging from my back and memories of the 8-point I passed up three months before. I had hunted virtually every day of every season to no avail, but with time now running out, I carried my kit-built flintlock with a growing sense of urgency. My persistence finally paid off on the evening of January 9, 2007, when at long last, again hunting near my Chester County home, the 6-point strolled into my open sights a mere 40 yards away. The flintlock smoked and bellowed and the buck crumpled to the ground after a short 60yard sprint. Sometimes success takes a long, long time, but that only makes it sweeter. Number Seven I killed my first 7-point on the afternoon of the third day of the 1991 archery season. The funny thing about the shot was that, seeing the arrow hit the ground beyond the deer at a range of just 10 yards, I initially thought I had missed low. In actuality it had been a quick pass-through shot that pierced both lungs, and the buck piled up just 40 yards away. One of my best bow bucks, however, is the wide-racked Chester County 7-point I arrowed in the final days of the regular archery season in 1996. Afternoon was fading into evening when I heard the scuffling in the leaves behind me. My treestand was placed at the edge of an old orchard that now served as a horse pasture. I had positioned the stand at a spot where several trails converged as they emerged from the tangle of thick cover in the tangled hollow where the deer bedded. When the buck appeared, he passed broadside at 20 yards, walking at a brisk pace. Fortunately, most of my bowshots on deer have hit squarely through the vitals, specifically both lungs, dropping the animals within 50 or 60 yards. My aim on the 7-point was true, but I failed to compensate for his forward motion. The arrow caught the buck farther back than I intended, but still passed GAME NEWS

Pennsylvania Game News - August 2009

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