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Spike with a 30-30.
Snow tracked him till he jumped up from behind some brush. He ran about 20 yards and slowed to look back at me.
Shot him broadside through both lungs.
He ran about another 50 yards and piled up.
I can still see him looking back at me as clear as if it was yesterday.
I was the only one in the party to get a deer that opening weekend about 30 years ago.
I dragged him down to the road and hoofed it back over to camp for somebody to come over with a pickup. The old men
and my dad where all having lunch.
"See anything" my uncle asked expecting
me to say nothing.
"I had to settle for a spike horn" I said,
playing it cool. "Get out of here!" they
said. Everybody else had sat around listening to the birds and I got a deer.
Needless to say I was more than a little
bit proud.
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