It's not much of a story and certainly not a story of my hunting skills.
A friend, who is a railroad engineer, telephoned me ont night, November 11, 2003, telling me he had hit a deer. I said "So?" He said "I hit it with the train." I replied "You hit a lot of deer with the train, what makes this one special?"
He said "This is the first one I ever felt!" and he added "This brute has a trophy rack!"
I asked "When did you hit it and where?" He told me he had hit the deer 24 hours earlier on the same route and the deer is still alive but he's only standing on his front legs. So I asked where again and he said it was just 300 yards down the track from the 'Vale Station... that's about a mile from my house. I told him "Don't worry, I'll take care of him."
I drove to the station with my mini-mag flashlight and a hand axe to do him in. When I found him he was just as my friend had described - a brute with a trophy rack and standing on his front legs. His hind end was a sack of clattering broken bones that prevented him from moving around much. I don't mind telling you I was a bit scared to think I was about to whack him behind the skull with a hand axe stupidly hoping one blow would do it.... well I grabbed his G2 on the left side to stabilize his head but he would have none of that nonsense - he thrashed his head and massive antlers for me and I got the hell out of there in a hurry. I went home, grabbed my Martin bow and two broadheads and went back. He was there in all his pitiful glory and I put my mini-mag in my teeth, nocked an arrow and put it through his heart at fifteen feet. He expired in about a minute.
It was one of the saddest things I have ever had to take part in but I'm glad I was able to end his suffering quickly.
See? Nothing glamorous at all...
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