DrMike
Ballistician
- Nov 8, 2006
- 36,933
- 5,129
Well, the mule deer and whitetail season closes on Saturday. I'm beginning to feel some desperation. It is an observation, though I don't doubt the validity of what I'm about to relate, but I've taken far more deer in the bush than in my front yard. I came to that realization last evening and determined that I would be up and going before the sun arose at 8:15. I was in the field in good time. What a morning. I counted nine moose in the first thirty minutes, three were legal bucks. 'Course, the season closed October 31. Those no good rascals read the regulations. Not only was I able to get to within twenty to forty yards of most of them, I observed them sticking out their tongues on several occasions! The audacity! I also saw around fifteen mule deer, some allow me to get within forty or so yards. However, I didn't see any legal bucks. I walked back into the bush about two kilometers and found a copse of trees that allowed me to survey a rather generous open area. I hunkered down to see what transpired. Suffice it to say that after two and a half hours, the scene was pretty quiet. I finally opted to walk back out, checking on a couple of areas that are often rife with deer. I found plenty of tracks, but nothing was standing in any of the tracks.
I managed to make it back to the truck, trudging through ten inches of snow, thinking the entire way how really attractive a set of deer antlers would look on the wall of the cardiac care unit in the Dawson Creek Hospital. Unfortunately, I didn't find a deer; and fortunately, I didn't suffer a coronary infarc. The walk wasn't bad, but I was definitely tired by the snow. Well, nothing to do but look elsewhere. I explored several other sites for a couple of hours. Again, lots of sign in the snow, but nothing making the signs. At 1400, I drove over to the spot where all the moose had been earlier in the day. At first, I saw no game anywhere. Then, topping a small rise, I saw a couple of young muley bucks pushing one another. I watched them for a while, only to notice a larger deer resting in some tall grass. I got as close as I dared. When I paused, he stood and turned to follow a doe and a young two by two buck. I watched for a bit and confirmed that he was a smallish four by four I had seen last September in the same area. Now, it was game on.
Long story short, 150 grains of ABLR launched from my .280 Remington dropped him like a ton of feathers. I came out of battery, and I couldn't be certain that I had dropped him. Let's see, count again, Mike. One doe, one two point buck... Okay, count again. One doe, one two point buck... When I could make out what the doe was saying and what the little buck was saying, I knew I had connected. The doe was saying, "It's about time he left me alone." I swear, the little buck was saying, "Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. She's mine, all mine." Seriously! :shock: Would I lie about something like that? :roll: Then, I could just make out his antlers in the tall grass. At the shot, he had simply dropped. Of course, there was no bullet recovery. It was only about one hundred yards and muzzle velocity with the 150 grain ABLR is ~3000 fps.
He's not the biggest buck I've ever shot; but he sure did put on some weight when I went to toss him into the truck.
As I finished skinning and field dressing what had by this time grown into a beast of unbelievable stature (funny how they look so small in pictures and feel so massive when lifting or horsing to skin 'em out), the tromp through the snow caught up to me. I tried to get behind the wheel, only to suffer a muscle cramp of epic proportions. I toppled out of the cab, straightened out the leg and tried again. I do believe God was trying to get me attention. Likely something to do with the fact that I should have been studying and writing rather than hunting. Before I could get this beast to the butcher, I had to stop at least four times to straighten out my legs and unfold the claws that were serving as hands. Nevertheless, I did get him to the butcher, and arranged for some smokies and fresh sausage in addition to steaks and roasts and a bit of ground. Driving home, I encountered five muley bucks, each truly massive. One was a broad five by five who simply stood within bow range sticking out his tongue. Guess he knew I had already cut my tag. Such audacity will result in my being invited to share by freezer next fall.
I managed to make it back to the truck, trudging through ten inches of snow, thinking the entire way how really attractive a set of deer antlers would look on the wall of the cardiac care unit in the Dawson Creek Hospital. Unfortunately, I didn't find a deer; and fortunately, I didn't suffer a coronary infarc. The walk wasn't bad, but I was definitely tired by the snow. Well, nothing to do but look elsewhere. I explored several other sites for a couple of hours. Again, lots of sign in the snow, but nothing making the signs. At 1400, I drove over to the spot where all the moose had been earlier in the day. At first, I saw no game anywhere. Then, topping a small rise, I saw a couple of young muley bucks pushing one another. I watched them for a while, only to notice a larger deer resting in some tall grass. I got as close as I dared. When I paused, he stood and turned to follow a doe and a young two by two buck. I watched for a bit and confirmed that he was a smallish four by four I had seen last September in the same area. Now, it was game on.
Long story short, 150 grains of ABLR launched from my .280 Remington dropped him like a ton of feathers. I came out of battery, and I couldn't be certain that I had dropped him. Let's see, count again, Mike. One doe, one two point buck... Okay, count again. One doe, one two point buck... When I could make out what the doe was saying and what the little buck was saying, I knew I had connected. The doe was saying, "It's about time he left me alone." I swear, the little buck was saying, "Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. She's mine, all mine." Seriously! :shock: Would I lie about something like that? :roll: Then, I could just make out his antlers in the tall grass. At the shot, he had simply dropped. Of course, there was no bullet recovery. It was only about one hundred yards and muzzle velocity with the 150 grain ABLR is ~3000 fps.
He's not the biggest buck I've ever shot; but he sure did put on some weight when I went to toss him into the truck.
As I finished skinning and field dressing what had by this time grown into a beast of unbelievable stature (funny how they look so small in pictures and feel so massive when lifting or horsing to skin 'em out), the tromp through the snow caught up to me. I tried to get behind the wheel, only to suffer a muscle cramp of epic proportions. I toppled out of the cab, straightened out the leg and tried again. I do believe God was trying to get me attention. Likely something to do with the fact that I should have been studying and writing rather than hunting. Before I could get this beast to the butcher, I had to stop at least four times to straighten out my legs and unfold the claws that were serving as hands. Nevertheless, I did get him to the butcher, and arranged for some smokies and fresh sausage in addition to steaks and roasts and a bit of ground. Driving home, I encountered five muley bucks, each truly massive. One was a broad five by five who simply stood within bow range sticking out his tongue. Guess he knew I had already cut my tag. Such audacity will result in my being invited to share by freezer next fall.
This one will probably taste better anyway. Your Rem 700 280 Rem with the 150 gr ABLR has done well for you this year.
