InDaShop said:
Damn thats a good looking big ol' Mule'ly deer!
Thanks, 2 minutes before I busted him I had a big ass 10pt whitetail, probably 140 class, in my scope but wasn't 100% sure he was on the property we had permission to hunt :-X
Funny story about the local rancher's blue F 150 in the back ground. First time I went up there in 05 to deer hunt, pheasant season was still in. We got there early enough in the afternoon to throw our stuff in the hotel, change and go bust some birds. On the way to the field we called the rancher, Larry, and told him to meet us there. "You alabama boys wanna shoot some birds eh?" he said in his South Dakota yankee accent that I still find funny as hell. So we roll up, pile our road weary asses out (22 hours of straight driving) and all the old guys climb in the cab of Larry's truck while us young punks get in the bed for what we though would be a nice slow ride to where we were going to hunt. Boy were we in for a suprise. About 60 yards out Larry spies a bird headed away from us haulin ass and proceeds to mat the skinny pedal.
Seriously less than 5 minutes after getting out of the suburban and loading guns I find myself in the back of that F150 with 2 other guys doing about 60mph across the fawking prairie chasing a pheasant :****: . One guy was riding a fourwheeler that was in the back of the truck not even strapped down, holding onto the brake lever for dear life so he didn't go flying out, all of us looking at each other wondering what in the hell have we got ourselves into!
I'm thinking to myself "of all the alabama backwoods, redneck, **** I've seen and lived through this doesn't even compare!"
Just as I'm contemplating throwing my Franchi out the back of the truck, so I can hold on with both hands, the bird takes a right into some tall grass and Larry makes good use of the ABS. The unstrapped four wheeler slides forward and ends up smashing the back window outta the truck and showering everybody in the cab with glass. Of course at this moment in time I'm thinking the back of the truck is the place to be.
Before we get to a complete stop I hear the parking pawl grinding it's ass off and look up to see Larry's already 6 feet from the truck jacking a shell in the chamber and headed after what I'm convinced to be the fastest bird on the planet. " Come on boys got damn it he's gettin away!" he's yelling as the rest of us city slickers are bailing out looking at each other like "did that **** just happen?" Now lemme say this, Larry is not the picture of health, there's probably 2 cigarette butts in the floorboards for every mile on the odometer, and half a dozen empty whiskey bottles floating around as well. But this guy could put olympic sprinters to shame while decked out head to toe in denim and justin boots. Bird finally gets up, BOOM, Larry takes him out. He heads back with what could very well be the hardest earned 1/2 pound of meat on the planet and states "lets go get us another one!" Tim who has finally released his death grip from the four wheeler shouts back "I'd love to Larry but I didn't bring enough clean underwear for this kinda huntin, I think we'll just walk and kick em up!" Needless to say we hunted back to the suburban on foot, shaking like we all had parkinsons from the over abundance of adrenaline in our system. True story, you can't make this stuff up.
