Ohio Turnpike Buck (standard:non fiction, 2340 words)
Author: DINGER	Added: Dec 10 2001	Views/Reads: 3035/2071	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Short story about my first deer hunt by the Ohio Turnpike.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

discovered that both ears had been pierced by Ryan’s .410 slug, but was 
of course not the shot that brought it down.  Jimmie allowed the hunter 
from across the property line to take his harvest back with him, in 
hopes that the favor could be returned sometime.  With all the shots 
taken opening day, the hunter from across the way, was the only one 
that tagged a deer. 

The second day of the season sent me back to work again, while Ryan and
Jimmie went back to the woods.  It would be Jimmie’s turn.  A decent 
size doe stood beside the creek bottom as they came back out after 
lunch.  It was only about a 20 yard shot, but she was straight on, and 
his shot missed.  She turned, and ran straight away,  his second and 
third shots also missed the mark.  He was unimpressed with his slug 
barrel, and changed back to his smooth bore for the hunt of day three. 

The rain had finally arrived!  My turn to join in on the hunt.  We
decided to stalk the fence row down to the swamp by the cornfield we 
had hunted so often throughout October and most of November.  The only 
thing we jumped up was a rabbit.  So Jimmie and I decided to take Ryan 
over to our landowner’s other property behind his farm about 5 miles 
away.  We had done some limited scouting there, and found that the deer 
were using the same trails as his sheep.  Scraps and rubs were in 
abundance, but the rain had the deer bedded down, and we had not heard 
a shot all day.  A slight rain kept us from hearing much of anything 
but the drops hitting the leaves.  It started to get alittle chilly, as 
we were all getting a bit wet.  We retreated to the truck for a lunch 
break, and then decided to go back to the other set of woods for the 
rest of the afternoon.  The rain subsided, and the water soaked leaves 
allowed us to look around.  We could see throughout the woods that the 
deer trails were all leading to the heavy thicket ladened swamp.  The 
one with no way in.  Evening fell upon us, and the end of day three 
came to a close. 

Frustration had set in as the weather forecast for day four and part of
day five was also going to be a wet one.  Ryan’s hunt was over, at 
least until saturday.  He needed to go back to school.  Jimmie decided 
to set out day four to regroup for part of day 5 and the weekend. 

I on the other hand, I had only got to hunt on the third day, so I was
ready to battle the elements to pursue my harvest.  I decided to call 
Galen, a buddy that I worked with.  He was an avid hunter, and had 
invited me to a muzzleloader hunt after christmas.  He said to come on 
out.  I was there in 15 minutes.  Galen’s brother Bryan joined us and 
we headed out to the woods.  They had two pieces of woods to stalk.  We 
took after the smaller of the two, and walked it.  It was only about 
200 yards long, so we took our time, and hoped to jump something up 
within shooting range.  When the three of us reached the end of the 
woods we were facing the east bound lanes of the ohio turnpike.  We 
were on the south side of the highway.  The other woods were west of 
us, across 400 yards of a chisel plowed field, soaked with rains of the 
past two days.  The mud was thick on the bottoms and sides of our 
boots, and they were heavy as we tromped across field.  There was a 
light fog, and a slight mist of rain coming down.  When we reached the 
opening between the woods, we rubbed the mud off our boots, Galen and 
Bryan set me on the corner of the woods running along side the 
turnpike.  Although the woods wasn’t more than 50 yards across, it was 
about 400 yards deep, running east and west.  After the brothers left 
me on the corner, they started walking down the tractor trail, about 50 
yards. They stopped and turned around towards me and threw their index 
fingers in the air.  This was to let me know that they spotted at least 
one deer.  They continued down the trail.  I was facing west with a 
slight mist of rain coming out of the southwest.  I was about 35 yards 
off the northeast corner of the woods, hunkered in a patch of weeds 
about waist high.  I had my Charles Daly 12 gauge loaded with my three 
shells and I was ready.  My fourth shell was in the hand I used to hold 
the forearm of my gun barrel. 

I stood there patiently, thinking about all kinds of things, while
checking  left, then right, and left again.  I began thinking about how 
disappointed Ryan must be with his first deer hunt.  I was also 
thinking about Jimmie, and how I wished he was there to hunt with me.  
And about “Bre”, my wife, whose patience throughout the last couple 
months of deer season, has been incredible.  I asked God to bless all 
of them, and to throw alittle luck my way, as the mist turned to a 
light shower.   I told God that he must have misunderstood what I 
prayed for...  I prayed for luck, not rain. 

Just then, a doe bounce out the woods where the boys had pointed just 20
minutes before.  I ducked down slowly and she stopped about 15 yards 
into the clearing beside the tractor trail.  She looked around in 
confusion.  It was clear that she was looking for somewhere to run.  It 
was then, that I first saw him.  A huge ohio buck!  He tromped into the 
clearing behind her.  They were about 45 yards away from me.   His rack 
was unmistakable given the terrain behind him.  He was a beautiful 
animal.  The kind of deer you see the professionals hunt on television. 


Then the doe began to walk towards me.  I didn’t want them to bounce
into the woods on my right,  because the turnpike was also to the 
right.  So I stood up.  She saw me, and dashed to the left in front of 
me, to the corner of the woods I was guarding.  The buck never saw me, 
he just followed her.  When he turned broadside to enter the corner of 
the woods...BOOM...BOOM...BOOM, and I took that forth shell that I had 
held in my hand, and loaded it into the breach and closed it.  After my 
third shot, the buck leaped into the corner of the woods directly in 
front of me, about 30 yards away and stopped.  The doe bounced a couple 
more times, and she also stopped.  The buck took two steps to my left, 
to a small clearing, no wider than he was long, and my forth shot rang 
out.  The doe busted across to the south corner, through the clearing I 
was standing in, and entered a small stand of woods behind me.  The 
buck began to follow her to the south corner, and I walked a quick step 
towards his direction, while reloading my gun with three more shells, 
when he dropped out of sight. 

I slowed to a quite stalk about 25 yards from where he went down,
fearing he would jump up again.  As I got closer I spotted him.  The 
forth shot was on the mark, just behind his left shoulder.  I sat down 
quietly about 15 yards away, and waited for my friends to arrive.  We 
were quiet for a few seconds, while we stood there and gazed at my 
harvest.  His tines were long.  Especially his brow tines.  One was 8 
inches, the other 9.  We counted 12 points!  His body was thick.  He 
was a brute.  We measured his neck, below his jaws at 24 inches, and 28 
inches before the shoulders.  It was a fine hunt.  And he was a fine 
deer. 

After all the preparation, and hours of studying maps, scraps, rubs, and
trails, I never expected to harvest my deer anywhere else, but the 
hunting grounds that Jimmie and I had started hunted together back in 
the Firelands.  And even though Ryan was in school, and Jimmie wasn’t 
there to help me celebrate, his hunting tips and his lucky orange 
stocking cap were. 

You see...  I had never harvested a deer, and this was only my second
shotgun season.  And even though I watched alot of hunting videos, 
shows on television, and  read my field & stream, outdoor life, and 
american hunter magazines, I learned so much more in the field from my 
hunting buddies.  This 12 point, buckeye turnpike buck was my first.  
And it was made possible because of ethical, and instructional hunting 
friend’s like Jimmie, Galen, and Bryan, that I could experience a safe, 
enjoyable hunt. 

Eric Dendinger Bellevue, Ohio 


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