I really did not have great expectations when I went out to Midway this morning. I Managed to fall back to sleep after SuperCore left for the blind and managed to doze for 45 minutes before jerking awake. I flew out the door– I still can’t feel my feet from the Chemo, and made it into my chair, fully suited with just 10 minutes to spare before legal hunting. It was 31F and I had clear skies and just a wee bit of wind out of the East.
Nothing. I dozed again shortly after sun rise, and woke around 0900. A few minutes later, I noticed a dark shadow in the tall grass on the far side of the Garden of Stone, about 150 yards out. I took my time bringing up the spotting scope; I’ve been scaring myself all season with shadows, leaves twitching and grass waving every day. I’ve been cooped up too much since the Chemo started, and I’m just not used to being afield again. The shadow was not moving. I put the scope on it and . . .
IT’S A BUCK!!!
About that time, this bruiser must have felt my eyes on his back and came out of the grass at a slow waddle showing nothing but his backside. I got the rifle up as he started ambling towards the opening in the fence just in front of my treestand at Campground. I had enough time to gauge the antlers, at least to see they extended well past his ears. Just then, he started to turn to look over his left shoulder and he gave me a quartering-away shot– nearly broadside and I took the shot. He went down and stayed down. It was 0903 EST on the first Monday of Kentucky’s Modern Weapons Season.
For the last 20 years, I’ve been shooting the same load out of my aught-sixes: 165-grain Hornady Interlocks over H4895. I got a free lifetime supply of 150 grainers a few years ago and decided to switch. I had them out last year with the Ruger Hawkeye, but never got a chance to try them. Yikes! That is a good load. Distance was 200 yards. This was the longest shot I’ve ever attempted at a living thing. I have the Hawkeye’s scope set for 2 inches high at 100 yards, so it did not take any fancy figgerin’. I just put the crosshairs on where I wanted it, and let fly.
“This is Earth. This is Earth. This is Earth! Earth to SuperCore: Bring the truck!”
SuperCore arrived with the truck, and we got him back to the meatpole. I’m still a little shaky from them putting the bug juice in my veins, but I managed to hang him, gut him and get him in the truck before Noon. We road out to B&B Extreme Processors to drop him off, but they were all filled up. I called Lenoxburg and they still had room in their coolers for one more.
This fellow went 165 pounds live weight. He is ostensibly a hearty 9-pointer, but if you dig down around the hairline, he’s got enough of a nub that you can call him a 10-pointer if you like.
