One time when I was fishing with Peg Leg Mahan, (who is an actual, evil person, and led me astray many times during my misspent youth), we were anchored under a bridge over a crappie hole. We had Coleman lanterns hung over the side of the boat and were doing pretty good with live minnows. After landing a fairly large crappie, I looked over the side and saw that a large eye was looking up out of the water at me. Thinking that this was a famous one eyed catfish that was known to inhabit that lake, I told Peg Leg to "Look quick, there's the one eyed catfish!"
I didn't know it at the time, but Peg had been watching another eye on the other side of the boat, so it wasn't Old One Eye, anyway. When Peg Leg bent over to look at the other eye, dang if he didn't hit the bail on my lantern, and knock it into the water, right at that catfish. That old fish just swallowed my Coleman, and swam off. Looked like he grinned some, when he did it, too.
Well, that made me mad, and I was bound and determined to get my lantern back. I took a hay hook that we sometimes used for a gaff, tied it to the anchor rope, tied on a mushroom anchor for a weight, and used a twelve pound bass that Peg had caught for bait. Then I dropped it over the side and went catfishin'.
Peg Leg squalled like a cut cat when I hooked his big bass for bait, but, dang it, he did drop the lantern. Took about an hour, and about a half bottle of tonsil paint, but after awhile, I got a little nibble on my anchor line. I gave it a little slack, and then yanked back on that line hard. I knew I had that big fish when he took all that anchor line and started pulling our boat. He pulled us from one end of the lake to the other, about three or four times. We finally got him wore down some, and started to haul in line. Time we got him hauled up, we found out he was too big to get in the boat, so we just tied him on behind and towed him to shore. At the boat ramp, I took the anchor line and tied it to the hitch on my pickup, and pulled him up on the ramp. Turned out the hay hook hadn't even got him, that twelve pound bass had bit him right under the gills, and held on all that time. I got my lantern back and Peg Leg and I sold the fish to Mrs. Paul's for enough to retire on for a while. Hey, if you don't believe ME, I'll show you the catfish tooth marks in my Coleman lantern. Or, you could always ask Peg Leg Mahan, but he has been known to stretch the truth.

It was a very brisk morning, in late September. The leaves were falling ever so gently to the ground. The forest animals were all busy, gathering up everything they could, because they knew as well as I, that a big storm was coming. The sky was dull gray, not a single pigment of light could brake the thick blanket of clouds.

I sat still in my ground blind, feeling the cold creep down my spine. I knew that it would be a good day to be in the woods, the weather was changing and that meant the deer would be moving. As I sat dormant to my surroundings, I watched as a couple chipmunks worked an oak tree. One would scurry up a downed log, and pack nuts, while the other would pile acorns at the base for the other to grab, they had a great bucket line going on.

The one thing that I have noticed, throughout any hunt, is the more you are in the woods, the more you become one with nature. Its as if, sitting there, motionless, you become a brush pile or downed tree, watching the forest grounds like the National Guard. Anything that flutters or makes the slightest noise, grabs a hold of your attention like being jerked from a moving car. You seem to know what should and should not be, while in the woods.

While sitting in the blind, I noticed the weather changing drastically. There were spits of snow here and there, and the wind was getting cooler. I watched as 3 does came down a hidden trail, behind a thicket. They also knew that the storm was coming and they had to find some cover. They made their way past me, about 30 yards behind me, browsing the whole way. Its funny at times, when you watch an animal that is so smart, yet so clumsy in their own ways. These deer had no clue I was there, and had no intention of finding out. They had one thing on their minds, survival. In all sorts of ways, that is what makes whitetail deer amazing animals, their will to survive, but in other cases, its what makes them dumb. Deer are very predictable creatures if you can map them, but once that wild instinct kicks in, they are almost impossible to judge.

At the time the does were getting out of my shooting range, I noticed another little group of deer just beyond a hill on the other side of my blind. I glassed them and noticed that there was about four does and a nice 8 pointer. They were working their way towards me, so I settled back in the blind, and grabbed my bow, just in case. I watched them for what seemed like eternity, until they faded away behind the hill.

I waited for awhile and kept watching, knowing that they would eventually come over the hill, I just didn’t know which would come first, the does or the buck. I waited patiently until I saw the first head pop over the horizon. A doe. Then another and another, almost single file they came up over the hill, but no buck. I knew that I had seen one. Maybe he wondered off? Or was just sitting back over the hill. I watched the does get closer and was feared that they would blow my cover, for they were headed straight for my blind. I was starting to think that the buck had left, when all of a sudden I heard a bunch of noise, off over the hill.

Watching intently, the does swung around and headed back to the hill, towards the crashing. I sat patiently, waiting, while the deer disappeared over the hill. I couldn’t figure out what that noise was, then it came to me. I had heard those noises a couple of times before, even imitated them, but never had I been that close to a buck fight! I could hear antlers smack together, then the “click, click” of sparring. From all the noise, I knew it had to be a good fight. I had seen the big bodied 8 pointer, and knew that he had to be fighting something a bigger.

As the crashing came to an end, I kept watching for any sign of either deer. The does, made their way back to me, and following them was a worn out 8 pointer. He was a monster of a buck! His neck was swollen to the size of a tree trunk, and his coat was old and gray. This buck had been here for awhile. As he drew closer, I had to make up my mind if I was going to take him, or wait to see what the other deer looked like. At about 30 yards, the big brute came to a sudden stop, swirled his head around, and was starring off to the left of my blind.

I slowly turned my body, to get a better glimpse of what he was seeing, and that’s when I seen him! This buck was huge! He was a good 45 yards off, but I could make out every antler, 12 to be exact.

My heart started to race uncontrollably, and my mind was clouded with the sight of this buck. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me, if this was the deer that the 8 pointer was fighting. How did he get around me? He must have slipped by, when I was watching the does, or maybe it was a totally different buck, but all I knew was that was the one I wanted!

I positioned myself for the buck to come around the brush pile, and cross right in front of me. The does kept right on walking past me, one after another, never knowing I was there. The 8 pointer stood his ground, never moving or taking his eyes off the other buck. As the monster 12 started down the path, he made a drastic change in course, and decided to go the other way around the brush. I knew it would be difficult to get back around for a good shot, but I had no choice but to try.

The does were about 20 yards or so to my right, and the 8 pointer was directly in front of me, around 30-40 yards, so I had to be careful. I managed to turn my body and get into a good enough position to get a shot, when the most terrible thing that can happen, did. With trying to get my bow around in the blind, I hit the edge of the window with the tip of my arrow, which caused it to smack the side of the blind, then fall to the ground. When your trying to be as quiet as possible, every noise sounds like a firecracker going off. I watched as the does and the 8 point flagged me, and bounded off. I couldn’t see the big one anymore, and I figured he was gone as well.

I placed another arrow in my bow, and sat as still as I could. Maybe they will come back? It was wishful thinking, because I knew in my mind I blew it! But, to my surprise, as I turned to look a the last spot that I had saw the monster, there he was! Standing proud as a peacock, strutting his huge body and massive rack. He must have turned around behind the brush, and came back the way he started to. Now by this time, I was more then ready. Bow in hand, arrow in rest and my release on the string, nothing was messing this second chance up!

I waited for him to come closer, he was a little far off, about 30 yards, and I didn’t have a good enough shot, so I waited for the right moment. Finally he started to move. Slow and sure the buck started moving down the trail. All I needed now was for him to give a chance to draw and I would be set, but he never put his head down. He was about 25 yards away and my chance was going to walk right away from me, so I did what I had to.

I drew my bow from a sitting position, keeping my movements under the edge of the blind’s window. It took all of my strength to pull it back from that angle, but I finally made it. I ever so slowly lifted my bow, maybe an inch at a time. It seemed to take me forever to get my bow up, but he never saw me move once! Now he was right in front of me, 15 yards away, and he was at a steady walk now. I placed the pin right on his shoulder, and gave him a whistle.

THWACK!!!! The big brute bucked his hind legs and darted towards the thicket. I watched him until I couldn’t see him no more, and then I lost it. My body gave out with shaking and trembling. My heart was racing faster then a NASCAR driver, and my head was as light as a feather. I knew I got him, and the suspense was driving me nuts! I wanted to get to him as fast as I could, but I had to wait. I think the waiting after the shot is worse then the waiting before the shot.

I climbed out of my blind and walked to where my arrow was sticking out of the ground.

As I picked up the blood soaked arrow, I knew it was all over for sure. I followed a blood trail that looked as though I murdered someone! There was blood everywhere. I didn’t have to go far, about 50 yards up, there he was! I ran to him, and embraced the feelings of the hunt. As I held his huge rack between my hands, I couldn’t help but to think, of how lucky I am to be able to take a great animal such as this, and I thanked mother nature herself, for growing such a beautiful animal. This is what hunting is all about.

Well, no collection would be complete without a true war story.

This was about the big war. When we was whuppin' them nat-zees.
Chesty Puller and I were at a little cafe in Malta when he just got fed up with the Afrika Corps running around Egypt and such, and grabbed me by the arm and said; "We're gonna get them fellas out of there.".

After swimming over to North Africa, we run across Libya and snuck up on Tobruk. There were tanks, guns, and a few divisions of troops everywhere.

"Just how in the heck are we gonna get that?", I asked him. He looked around, scratched his face, and said; "How about this. You give me a ten minute head start, then you go runnin' up to the front wall, shooting and making a sound like you was the British 8th Army. Then, when they all run to the defense, I'll hit them from the beach.".

Well, it worked just like he said. I ran for the front wall, firring my BAR and screaming. They all ran to the front, and Chesty made short work of them.

Of course, I did my job too well. If you read the history books, they really say the British 8th Army drove the Germans out of Tobruk. We didn't get any credit to this day.

Hey clay only one thing better that thats wakin up and havin a deer for breakfast than goin and shootin one

WA Mtnhunter
A hunter who shot guns and mouth off that sounded like thunder.
But like shooting cans
He couldn’t hit his own butt with either hand!

after 10 straight days in the 15 degrees weather hunting for my first buck, i seen nothing but does and stray dogs, i became desperate and shot a six point buck, it wasnt my dream buck but it was my first and i was estatic..determined to kill something bigger i stayed in the woods continuously until my brother came home from his home in hawaii, but it didnt stop me from sneaking off to the home away from home, the woods, with all the action of spearfishing and surfing my brother decided that sitting in a treestand wasnt exciting enough for him, so he decided he was gonna try to jump some, i told it takes sacrifice to hunt, you have to sit for a long time in cold weather and be still to be successful.i should have known better, every year he comes home for a very short time, goes hunting and always produces meat. he walked in the woods and came back 15 minutes with a 6 point, i came back with numb hands and feet.

One winter weekday evening I was in Anchorage bored to tears and so I called the Birchwood shooting park. Yes they were open to shoot trap and skeet. I put the Ignacio Ugartechea model 20 12 gauge that I recently bought in its case and headed out to Chugiak and found the shooting park. I had never been there before and the place was dead. I went inside and there was a gentleman there and I asked him if I could shoot a round of trap. "Sure" he said "I'll have Cory pull trap for you". A young lady came out, got me set up and I shot a round using the full choke barrel and broke 20 out of the 25. Ok for a new-to-me gun and not having shot trap in years. I had never tried skeet and there was no one else shooting so I asked her if we could try a round of skeet. We moved over to the skeet range and she explained how the birds would come and I only managed to break 9 out of 25. I said "that’s was pretty sad". "Not really" then she explained that the stock was too straight, too long and the comb was too high. It worked fairly well for the rising birds on the trap range but with the tight chokes and the stock the way it was I was shooting over a lot of them. "You want to try one of the clubs guns"? I fired another round with her gun and broke 15. That felt better. Then she told me that my stance was not square enough to the birds, the way I mounted the gun was too far out on my shoulder, where to set up to break each bird. She told me to move my left hand a little farther out the forend and lean a little more into my shot with my weight more on the balls of my feet. Another round and 22 out of 25, I was amazed, a teenage girl could teach me so much about shooting a shotgun in just that short while. It was closing time and I thanked her for the help. "What is your name young lady"? "Cory, Cory Cogdell" she answered.

flannelhunter17 - Sounds like your brother tagged the 6 point that you had forgotten to drag home.

flannelhunter17 YEP! I Second DAT!