Arty
02-14-2017, 12:08 PM
I was talking to some friends earlier about manual labor and that convo turned into dragging deer. With all the new fangled toys now a days I suspect there isn't nearly as much dragging a deer out of the woods as there used to be. Comforts sure are nice. I know the last deer I skinned was loaded up in a gator 2 feet from where it laid (my son laid his ass out! :) )
Anyway that story made me think of all the damn deer I've dragged, or carried out of the woods. I always tagged along with my dad, oldest brother, and my dads friends. Being the youngest and "on my first set of legs" as they'd say, I always had the honor of being the pack mule. One drag in particular will stay in my mind until I die.
I was hunting outside wheeling WV with my dad and a couple of his friends who lived up there. One of the guys name was "Rambo". That wasn't his name, but that's what everybody called him. He would shoot any deer he saw. Day or night, highway, parking lot, church cemetary, didn't matter. But I digress.
I was about 12-13 years old. A foot of snow on the ground and I was sitting in a stand at the top of ridge that looked down into a hollow (holler). With the snow you could see what seemed like a mile. It was very early in the morning and I was freezing to death. I still think that may be the coldest I have ever been. At the bottom of the hollow was an old logging road. It was probably 225-250 yards. But it was almost STRAIGHT downhill (West Virginia has some hills!)
4-5 does came out on that road and I will never forgot how they just "appeared", like deer tend to do. I put the hairs on the one in the front and shot. In my scope I saw her do a complete 360 in the air. And I saw blood spraying allll over the snow. She landed DRT. Other does scattered.
I stayed put like I had been instructed to do and shortly after my dad came by and we walked 1/4 of the way, and slid 3/4 of the way, down that hill. Once we get down there and had it gutted, we started thinking how the hell we'd get it out. Taking the logging road would mean crossing another property and going a half mile more more out of the way. So dad grabbed a 20 foot piece of rope out of his pack, tied one end to the doe, and the other end around my waist.
This was probably 150 pound dressed doe. Up the hill we went. Grabbing trees, branches, each other. Anything to obtain forward motion. We were bent at the waist like we were climbing a mountain (I guess we actually were!) We get to the top and my dad is 20 feet or so ahead of me. I FINALLY make the last few steps and see my feet are on flat ground. I stand up, take a deep breath and relax my leg and back muscles. What I had forgotten was that even though I was on flat ground, the doe 20 feet behind me WASN'T! As soon as I "let off" that rope, that doe pulled me down, face first, going backward, DAMN NEAR all the back to where I shot her. I had made a nice slick packed down chute from pulling her up, and she rode straight back down it. With me in tow. I grabbed a branch or something and finally got stopped. I wipe the snow from my face, stand up, and look back at the top of the hill where my dad is laughing so hard it was echoing through that hollow.
As they say, good times. Good times.
Every kid should have to drag a deer out of the woods at least once.
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Anyway that story made me think of all the damn deer I've dragged, or carried out of the woods. I always tagged along with my dad, oldest brother, and my dads friends. Being the youngest and "on my first set of legs" as they'd say, I always had the honor of being the pack mule. One drag in particular will stay in my mind until I die.
I was hunting outside wheeling WV with my dad and a couple of his friends who lived up there. One of the guys name was "Rambo". That wasn't his name, but that's what everybody called him. He would shoot any deer he saw. Day or night, highway, parking lot, church cemetary, didn't matter. But I digress.
I was about 12-13 years old. A foot of snow on the ground and I was sitting in a stand at the top of ridge that looked down into a hollow (holler). With the snow you could see what seemed like a mile. It was very early in the morning and I was freezing to death. I still think that may be the coldest I have ever been. At the bottom of the hollow was an old logging road. It was probably 225-250 yards. But it was almost STRAIGHT downhill (West Virginia has some hills!)
4-5 does came out on that road and I will never forgot how they just "appeared", like deer tend to do. I put the hairs on the one in the front and shot. In my scope I saw her do a complete 360 in the air. And I saw blood spraying allll over the snow. She landed DRT. Other does scattered.
I stayed put like I had been instructed to do and shortly after my dad came by and we walked 1/4 of the way, and slid 3/4 of the way, down that hill. Once we get down there and had it gutted, we started thinking how the hell we'd get it out. Taking the logging road would mean crossing another property and going a half mile more more out of the way. So dad grabbed a 20 foot piece of rope out of his pack, tied one end to the doe, and the other end around my waist.
This was probably 150 pound dressed doe. Up the hill we went. Grabbing trees, branches, each other. Anything to obtain forward motion. We were bent at the waist like we were climbing a mountain (I guess we actually were!) We get to the top and my dad is 20 feet or so ahead of me. I FINALLY make the last few steps and see my feet are on flat ground. I stand up, take a deep breath and relax my leg and back muscles. What I had forgotten was that even though I was on flat ground, the doe 20 feet behind me WASN'T! As soon as I "let off" that rope, that doe pulled me down, face first, going backward, DAMN NEAR all the back to where I shot her. I had made a nice slick packed down chute from pulling her up, and she rode straight back down it. With me in tow. I grabbed a branch or something and finally got stopped. I wipe the snow from my face, stand up, and look back at the top of the hill where my dad is laughing so hard it was echoing through that hollow.
As they say, good times. Good times.
Every kid should have to drag a deer out of the woods at least once.
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk