During Christmas break last year, a friend of mine asked me if I wanted to go run dogs the following morning with his uncle, Wild Bill. A famous character around my hometown, Wild Bill is a good old boy who has done a lot of crazy things over the years.
How could I resist going?
The following morning my friend Patrick, his little brother John Paul and I went to Wild Bill’s house. Wild Bill started loading up his dogs. I had never seen deer dogs like this.
Most hunters use beagles. Wild Bill had two pit bulls and few strays he has picked up over the years. After seeing this, I was pretty hesitant. I didn’t think the trip was going to be anything but a waste of time. Patrick, John Paul and I loaded up the truck.
I set up on a grass plot about 10 yards wide and 150 yards long with thick woods on both sides. I decided to use my 30-06, since a shotgun with buckshot is only good for 40 to 50 yards.
I heard the dogs get released. Several minutes later, I heard a deer. A huge eight-point came out of the woods 10 yards away from me on the other side of the plot. I tried to find him in the scope, but he saw me and darted back into the woods. I was so mad at this point because I knew if I had a shotgun, I would have gotten him. So I walked back to the truck, got my shotgun and returned to my spot.
Ten minutes went by and I heard deer running again. Two does came out in the exact same spot as the eight-point did. With two quick shots, I killed both of the does. After that, I started to feel better about my disappointment earlier. Another 20 minutes passed and I heard the dogs running another deer.
Another huge buck jumped out of the plot but this time it was about 100 yards away. So for the second time in less than an hour, I had the wrong gun. If I had my rifle, I would have had a shot.
As I stood there with utter disgust for my particular bad luck that day, I heard John Paul shoot from about 75 yards back in the woods and parallel with me.
I heard the dogs bay up and knew they had a deer pinned. I ran to see and I found the pit bulls holding down a five-point.
John Paul’s shot had broken one of the front legs. I could not shoot the deer again because the dogs were all over it. Instead, I ran back to the truck to get my knife and ran back to the deer. The pit bulls were still holding it down, so I grabbed a horn and tried to cut the jugular.
Before I could do that, the pit bulls let go of the deer. The deer lunged and entangled my foot between its horns. It dragged me several yards.
With help of the pit bulls, I finally finished the job.
I got up exhausted and could not believe how much work I did for a deer I did not shoot.
I have to give credit to Wild Bill’s dogs for one of my most memorable hunts. I want to hunt with them again, but next time I want the right gun in my hands instead of a feisty deer.
Justin McGehee can be reached at [email protected].