Pennsylvania Game News - January 2019 - 38

of the gulley. A deer was headed straight
at me, but just as suddenly, it disappeared.
My flintlock resting on a shooting
stick, I intently scanned the area. For what
probably was less than 10 minutes, but felt
like an hour, there was nothing.
Thinking the deer had reversed course
and slipped away downhill, I relaxed a bit.
And just then, three deer appeared
from behind a tree and walked out in
front of me.
With a steady rest, I squeezed off a
shot at a doe. And as I struggled to see if
my shot had connected, three deer trotted
by me, unscathed, through the clearing
smoke.
I kept an eye on the deer as I fumbled
with my speed starter to reload. Slowly,
but alertly, the deer headed off. I checked
to confirm I'd missed, then trudged back
to my tree. My hope was slipping.
I cursed myself for flubbing the opportunity and wasting the drivers' time. It was
an unreasonable amount of frustration
and disappointment that, in the moment,
felt right.
But as I stewed, I heard hooves heading my way.
Already reloaded and propped against
a tree, I caught two deer as they zipped
through the hemlocks below.
"Meh!" I bleated, a doe stopping at
the sound, her vitals shielded by a tree.
She stood there frozen for a few
extremely long-and-painful seconds, then
took the step I needed to let the smoke fly.
The deer both were gone before the
air cleared.
Having fired three times, I struggled
to ram another patched roundball down
the extremely fouled barrel. That's when
a third group of deer came through the
hemlocks, offering what would have been
broadside shots at 50 yards.
I soon heard whistles, as the drivers
38

filtered through the trees, trying to get a
bearing on our locations.
I stayed where I was, then pointed
Jason and Tony to where the deer were
standing when I shot. As I motioned
Tony to go farther to his left, he and Jason
crouched down, then slowly started picking their way out the bench. They'd just
vanished from my sight when I heard the
distinct crack-kaboom of a flintlock.
When I reached them, they were standing over a downed deer.
"Nice shot, Kory!" Tony said.
Confused, I looked the deer over. Putting the pieces together, I realized the deer
was the second I'd shot at. I'd hit it back
some and it ran off, just over the hill, then
bedded down.
Jason spotted the flick of a tail as I was
directing them where to go. They saw the
deer was hit and snuck to it, where Tony
quickly dispatched it. Field-dressing
revealed I'd caught the liver with the shot.
Tagging the deer we checked in with
Jeremy and learned he was headed to get
a kayak.
He'd trailed the doe he shot more than
half a mile, where it crossed a small section of the Allegheny River and bedded
on a small island, where he was able to
dispatch it.
As it turned out, our six-hour escapade
would cover woods and waters, and end
with entertaining stories and a freezer full
of venison.
When I picture a group of hunters sitting around a campfire or kitchen table,
it is these kinds of stories they tell. The
failures, the successes, the inexplicable,
the bizarre, and the humorous all make
hunts memorable.
Those memories, and people with
whom you share them, are what hunting
really is about.
The venison is just a bonus.
Pennsylvania Game News - January 2019

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