From: gray@hawkmoon.mn.org (Bill Gray)
Subject: Bambi's Revenge
Organization: Demi-Public System (One of the Eternal Champions); Eagan, MN, 55123-2507, USA
Date: 16 Nov 92 07:59:00 CST
Summary: First hunt in ~30 years--Bambi got his revenge!
Originator: hunting@osnome.che.wisc.edu
Keywords: gravity, hunting accidents, Bambi, revenge

Ok.  I go hunting, first time in about 30 years.  Now other than being
much more handsome than Rush Limbaugh, I do resemble him in the [lack of]
physique department. . . *sigh*

Anyway, I go out with my rifle (never mind *what* rifle, don't want to
start that up again!) and two buddies from church.  One  of them had recently
moved a little out of our area and was attending another church in his new
area; he mentioned some friend of his from the new church would also be
hunting in the same area.  One of my buddies has a buck-only license, as
did I.  The other had a doe permit and a bonus permit (which is doe only).
Party hunting is legal here, so we agree that any of us can shoot either
sex--but we have to find the guy with the doe tags PDQ if we do.

Just after daybreak I see a really nice sized doe.  I follow her for 90
seconds or so at 70-120 yards, but she's across the fence line on private
property where we do not (I'm told) have permission to hunt.  So I hold fire.

40 minutes later I see a smaller doe/nubbin buck, again across the fence
but coming my way.  I track it, but lose it in brush before it crosses the
road.

Get tired of waiting and move further into the woods.  Meet up with my
group--no shots fired so far by any of us, although the woods sound like
a lively firefight is going on. . .  :-(  We meet up with a hunter from 
the other church hunting party.  Find out one of them (and by extension,
all of us) has permission to hunt the private land where I saw the two
doe.  Fooey.

Move further into woods.  Guy from other party follows me up steep 30-ft.
embankment to ridgeline.  (Note that we were penetrating the woods on an
old logging road that bisected several ridges.  The notches in the ridges
are very steep.)  We work down the ridgeline about 400 yards and I find
what looks to my inexperienced eye like a good parking place;  I can see
down the ridge on both sides out about 70 yards for a stretch about 60 yards
long.  Both gulleys verge on some cover I figure deer may be heading for/
emerging from.

Guy from other party says he'll mosey on.  Says the ridge runs about 1 1/2
mile more.  He leaves, and I see no more of him for a while.  Hear
gunfire from his direction about 30 minutes later, and a while after that,
two guys I don't know come out dragging a nice doe, 3rd guy with them carrying
the rifles.

I'd heard a lot of fire from that general area, figure with thre fewer
hunters there, maybe it's a good place to relocate to.  Go about 100 yards
more and see blaze orange, figure there's more hunters than I thought, go
back to previously described parking place.

Hear *loud* shot.  Has to be hunter I just saw.  No followup, so figure
he's busy field dressing his kill or missed completely.  Decide to go
further in.

As I pass him, he hails me.  He's guy from other church party--I couldn't
recognize him from distance (all blaze orange looks alike, unless Rush
Limbaugh clone with beard is wearing it. . .).

He says he's got a doe permit and bonus permit and shot a buck and do I want
to put my tag on it?  (Stupid recent change in regs means you have to tag
before you drag.  Tags are paper and get ripped off in brush.  Stupid DNR.)

Idiot me, I say ok.  I think he's *giving* me the deer; this is the only
day I'll be able to hunt with him, and if I lose my tag I'm SOL.  (Find
out later he figured hunting was so good we'd fill out tags that day, no
sweat.  Find that out too late. . .)

So I figure I gotta get this deer out of there, right?  He'd tied a rope
around antlers with two loops in other end.  I put arm through each loop
and start dragging Bambi out of woods.

Bambi's dead, but still resisting.  At least 58 times, he caught his
antlers or head on rock, stump, fallen log, or tree.  By the time we
reach notch, your Humble Servant is soaking wet, winded, and ready
to forsake hunting for Twinkies.  Almost.

TWO FEET from the notch, Bambi hangs up again on fallen log.  I turn around
and grasp rope with both hands (SOP) and give mighty heave.

It should have worked.  Mighty heaves had gotten us the last 500 yards,
right?

It should have worked.

It didn't.

Fallen log was mostly rotten.  Mighty heave caused it to crumble.  Bambi
goes flashing past me--who has both arms through loops of rope tied to
Bambi's antlers, remember?--and rips down Steep Embankment down to logging
road, dragging your Humble Servant at speeds neither Bambi nor I have ever
attained without mechanical assistance.

It was just like cartoons.  I look down, see Bambi hurtling down.  I look up
at (supposed) benefactor, see flash of recognition of Impending Doom in his
eyes mirorring sudden realization in my own.  Glance futilely for tree or
Some Damn Thing to grab onto.  See nothing.  Hope God really has forgiven
me for a Long List of things.

Next clear memory is lying on back across Bambi, 5 inches from antlers.
Look up and see Benefactor (snort!) peering anxiously down at me, and
beginning expedited descent down Steep Embankment with two loaded rifles.
Have time to remember that I _did_ engage safety before I put rifle
(never mind what kind) into his hands.  Se him descend 2/3 of slope before
falling with two loaded rifles.

He lands on his, sensibly keeping mine in air.  No AD, thank Heavens.
I begin process of getting to feet while woozy; in my size, no small
task.

Other hunters who passed me with doe witness this.  One of their party had
just arrived on 3 wheeler to haul out said doe.  Arrange for them to drag
Bambi behind 3 wheeler the ~3 miles back to where cars are parked.  Start
following "my" deer back to parking area.  About a mile later, discover
I am following Other Guy's deer, that my tag was just for convenience so
I could shoot a doe later.

Note:  if presence of firearms *did* cause crime, I'd be looking for bail
money.  Not really; both he and I made assumptions about each other that
were probably valid for those with whom we had come, but not for other party.
I was as much to blame for misunderstanding as he was, but I would *not*
have dragged the confounded deer 500+ yards for him even if I had let him
use my tag.  Felt stupid.

Next day, felt dead.  Sore back, bruises, couldn't sleep w/o medicine (from
Dr., no DIY on meds for me!).  Missed 1 1/2 day of work.

And didn't get a deer.  I think he's going to give me the hide and some
venison.

I think I'll make mocassins. . .

Bill
-- 
gray@hawkmoon.mn.org
This site gets a fair news feed, but e-mail is more reliable. . . :-(
"Veni, vidi, vomiti!"  -- the ghost of Tom Jefferson on reading the Brady Bill


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