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Discussion Starter · #1 · (Edited)
A buddy of mine asked me to write up a story of a true deer hunt I was on with a couple of guys. I finished it today. I tried downloading a pic of the actual deer but no go. I embellished a little for humor but just a little. The tale is long but this is written entertainment:

Brett and I picked up Jimbo after work. We were smoking cigars and in high spirits. It was the night before the deer opener and we had the weekend off. Jimbo's wife was crying. Jimbo and his wife had never been separated overnight in the two years of their marriage. Even when their son had been born the year before Jimbo slept in the hospital room with his wife until she came home. Their relationship was tethered more than some due to the fact Jimbo had almost died after they had become engaged. An industrial accident at work had blown him through a wall and left him in a two week coma. His fiancé (soon to be wife) was at the hospital nonstop and never left his side during his coma. They had been high school sweethearts and were deeply in love with each other. It was sickening.

With the cheap stinky cigar dangling out of my mouth I walked up to Jimbo's wife who stood crying on the curbside. I put one hand on her shoulder and removed the cigar out of mouth blowing a puff of cigar smoke her way, "We'll take care of him little lady." She looked at me with tears in her eyes, turned and ran back into the house. Jimbo followed her as we threw his stuff into the vehicle. We unzipped his gun case to admire the new Marlin .444 caliber lever action he had just purchased for his first deer hunt. Ten minutes later he emerged trying to cover up the fact he had been crying too. I almost vomited.

Six hours and two hundred miles later we had finally hauled our last load into the "Sve" cabin (Ragsvold Sve had let us use his hunting cabin south of the Split Rock River. It is approximately 2.5 miles south of Buck Mountain Chateau cabin) "Well boys." I barked, "Time to go out and make Jimbo's tree stand." It was 1 o'clock in the morning. None of us could sleep anyway. Brett and I had the blood fever ("Plak Tow" for those familiar with Star Treks Mr Spock ) and Jimbo...well you know where Jimbo's head was at.

An hour later I was lost trying to find my way back to the Split Rock River for my bearings. Jimbo asked me, "Do you know where we are?" "Oh yaaa," I responded, "I'm looking at buck sign. Looks like we got a really big boy working this area. I pointed at some old dry 3 month old deer droppings on the ground. "See. Must be a 200 pounder!" Jimbo looked at the ground and nodded his head. Brett didn't say a word. He wasn't sure where we were either but didn't let on.

I finally got my bearings straight and actually ended up in the area I had wanted to build Jimbo's deer stand. He would be in between Brett and my tree stand, west of the cedar swamp. We would have about 250 yards between us which I thought was plenty until years later Brett sat by me and I could hear him coughing. He never did believe me when I told him, "Dude, I can hear you coughing." He had a very distinct loud cough which irritated me because it seemed more of a habit than an actual need to cough.

We were back at the cabin at 4 a.m. and Brett and I decided to lay down for an hour for a quick power nap. Jimbo sat at the table reading his bible, praying for his wife and son no doubt. As I drifted off to sleep I was dreaming of a monster 10 point buck coming by my deer stand and stopping broadside. I raised the rifle, centering on his lungs, and began the squeeze on the trigger. The gun failed to go off no matter how hard I squeezed the trigger and the alarm clock went off bringing me out of the nightmare.

Thirty minutes later with bacon, eggs, and coffee just about ready even Jimbo seemed excited and had momentarily forgotten about home. With our stomachs full and bodies pumped with caffeine we arrived at Brett's portable tree stand site and dropped him off. He proceeded to climb very high up to 30' which gave him an excellent vantage point to watch the show which was soon to begin. I amazingly found Jimbo's new stand and dropped him off saying, "What ever you do Jimbo don't leave the stand. I'll be back at noon to pick you up and we'll go in for lunch." I don't know why I said it because I had no intention of stopping back and picking up Jimbo. He was on his own. He had a compass and a topographical map of the area; we all did. He was fine.

Thirty minutes after legal shooting hours, sweating and swearing profusely I finally stumbled across my own stand and two hours after that I woke up having heard a noise. I slowly scanned ahead and saw the buck meandering slowly my way, stopping to look ahead and smell the air. He was about 35 yards out when I fired and he didn't go far. My hunt was over and now it was time for the long drag out. I gutted him and put the liver and heart in plastic bags. I began to drag trying to skirt to the west of Jimbo's area. I wasn't using the compass but rather dead reckoning. An hour later I was disoriented and walked ahead 50 yards to try and figure out where I was. I heard Jimbo yell my name and thought, "Aw crap. Blundered right into his area." Jimbo jumped straight down the 8 feet off the tree stand which later I recalled as unusual and came running up to me all excited and genuinely happy to see me. I would have been pissed.

"Oh gee Jimbo sorry guy. I thought I was farther west of you. I'm dragging a buck out. Hey go on back to hunting I'll skirt way around you." I apologized but Jimbo just stood there with this big happy to see you dog grin on his face looking like he was going to hug me. "You got a deer? Where is it?" He asked.

"Yaa, yaa, I got one about 50 yard back there. Really Jimbo just go back to hunting I'll drag him out." I apologized again, but Jimbo obviously wanted nothing more to do with hunting and wanted to see my deer, and insisted on helping me drag it out despite my trying to persuade him otherwise. Many months later Jimbo would confess what had transpired in the woods. It had been quite traumatic for poor Jimbo. He even sold his gun vowing to never hunt again. (What irks me is I would have bought it. At a discount of course seeing as he was desperate and all to rid himself of the horrible experience)

At high noon Jimbo and I were at the bottom of a steep valley which provided run off water for the Split Rock River. I was starved and weak. I told Jimbo I had to rest. I gathered wood and Jimbo watched me start a fire. I dug out the deer liver and cut a half inch slice off about the size of my hand. I put it on a forked stick and put it over the flames of the fire. Jimbo watched in utter amazement. The yellow bile of the liver mixed and bubbled out with the blood as it slowly cooked. It was disgusting looking. Jimbo looked at me and asked? "Are you going to eat that?" "Yes." I responded, "I didn't bring a lunch."

Jimbo watched me gag down the first piece. I had to burn it on the outside in order to make the inside palpable. Even then it was horrible to eat. I couldn't get the wretched taste of the bile off my tongue the rest of the day. I finished the 2nd big piece and lay back on the ground trying not to vomit it back up. Jimbo seeing that the show was over began to rustle in his pack which I hadn't really noticed until then. To my astonishment he pulled out two sandwiches and an apple. He looks over at me and genuinely asked, "Do you want one?"

See part 2 for completion of story.
 

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Discussion Starter · #2 ·
Part 2 burnt deer liver

"No. I'm good." I said. I looked around to see if my rifle was within reach and if it was Jimbo was going down! It was out of reach. Just at that moment I heard an ATV coming down the main trail which lead to another cabin. I ran to the top of the hill and flagged down the driver. Indeed he was from the other cabin and heading back down to the trucks. I asked him if he would haul my buck down to the trail that cut off to the Sve cabin and gave him $10.00 for his troubles. It saved Jimbo and me the tough drag up the hill and the mile we had left to go. It also probably saved Jimbo from the sandwich stunt he pulled.

Back at the cabin I was dead meat. I lay down and didn't wake up until sundown when Brett came back in skunked. He talked about seeing some guy running through the woods about 8 a.m. but didn't know if he was chasing a deer or what. I didn't think anything about it and Jimbo just sat there silent as he read his bible. We ate supper and hit the sack for much needed sleep.

At 4 a.m. the alarm went off. Brett wanted to get an earlier jump to his tree stand. In short order we had bacon, eggs and coffee going again but Jimbo lay in his sleeping bag not moving. Finally I yelled, "Hey Jimbo. Time to get up buddy. We got to get out there." Jimbo didn't move but slowly said, "You know, I think I'm just going to stay in the cabin and read my bible this morning and maybe go out later around the cabin."

Brett and I stopped and looked hard at one another. I raised my eyebrows to Brett. "OK...yaaa sure Jimbo. We'll stop back in at lunch and maybe you can come out for the sundown hunt. Sometimes that's the best anyway." Something was wrong but I just thought he was homesick.

We came back in for lunch and Jimbo was sitting about 50 yards from the cabin on a stump within plain view of the cabin. Brett and I had seen nothing and heard very few shots. Jimbo again declined to come back out to his stand for the sundown hunt and about 7 p.m. we were on the road home. We dropped off Jimbo to his again crying wife who was now holding their infant son in her arms. He grabbed her like a soldier that had been away at war for a year. I looked away disgusted. It was ruining the macho mood I was in with my deer strapped to the top of the vehicle.

The next spring Jimbo confessed to Brett what had happened. Despite me telling him to stay in the tree stand Jimbo had gotten down and started wandering. He took the gradual slope down into the cedar swamp and it was dark, wet, and tangled in there. He took out his map and compass. It was pointing north but Jimbo was certain North was not the direction the compass was showing. It was heavily overcast. There was no sun to verify his theory. Jimbo thought he must of broke the compass somewhere along the line (actually the compass worked fine).

He began to panic. He was running. He came back out of the cedar swamp and kept running. Brett saw him running but because of the distance didn't recognize him nor did Jimbo see Brett way up 30' in the air. Jimbo ran in a circle and found his stand again. I blundered through a half hour later. Jimbo admitted to Brett he had been in a full blown panic and thought he would never see his wife and child again. He had never been that scared in his life.

To my knowledge Jimbo never went hunting again. Like I say he sold his gun without telling me or Brett until after the fact. His wife always gave me dirty looks too. Like I had something to do with his getting lost in the woods and her almost never seeing him again. That I added to it in any way!! Go figure!!
 

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Discussion Starter · #4 · (Edited)
I thought it strange too but it was his first time in the big Northern MN woods, and 1st time away from his ball and chain.

Had he headed east he would have been in real trouble. No roads for many miles. About 10 years after this hunt 3 miles from us some guys got lost in late March. One died from hypothermia, one was rescued, one walked out.
 

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Killer...I enjoyed your detailed description of deer hunting with your buddies. Burnt liver...no way! I'd almost throw up just thinking about it.(ha) Thirty foot deer stands...I'd get the nose bleed at that height. Mine is barely 12' with a postage sized spot for my arse to sit looking for Bambi.

The art of story telling in an interesting manner is a natural gift, and you've inherited that trait very well. I hope to hear more of your adventures described as well as this first one.

FYI...here's a link to a thread and a post I made about deer hunting a couple of years ago. I've got a long ways to go to get to your level of describing the "big event":

http://www.gunandgame.com/forums/bi...-deer-hunt.html?highlight=deer+hunting+Oxford
 

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all the way to the end i was expecting the story to be one of those internet myths. the fact it is true makes it so much better. good read.
 

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Good story Killer. I enjoyed it. You should write another.
 
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