So I can't sleep and have been looking online at interesting hunting stories. Just read this one and thought it was to good not to share. It was found on fieldandstream.com. If you have any to add, please share!
I assume you're only looking for true stories. This is one I posted a few years ago. I will admit, it was not all true. (The buck was slightly larger than I reported. Hate bragging on the Internet...)
Once, when I was still a bowhunter and not yet graduated to high-caliber rifles of enormous potential, I came upon a very nice 5 X 5 buck, marking his dominance into an old barbed-wire fencepole. I approached him head on, and the wind must have been swirling, because he nosed me and jerked his head up to look for the source of said scent. In doing so, he managed to snag, then securely anchor himself, in the fence; first on his rack, and eventually on the fur around his head as he struggled. Excitable in my youth, I thought it Providence that this buck be “shewn to me” and I drew back. I was going for a poorly-chosen head-on chest shot, but upon hearing the “twang” of the bow, the beast tried to duck! With his neck firmly anchored it amounted to more of a collapse, and my broadhead cut along his back from base of skull to tip of tail down to the backstrap. This added new strength to the buck! Wrenching himself from the fence, he actually started to de-cape himself! As I fumbled for another arrow he continued to snort, tug and further extricate himself from his fetters at the expense of his hide. Soon he was stripped naked, down to his hooves, when the barbed wire gave way, with only a three-foot piece still wrapped around his antlers. With a mighty tug, he finished his impromptu self-skinning job Leaving his entire hide caught on the demolished fence. With no discernable effect he turned and ran back along the fence, towards an old depository of farming implements, beer cans and plum thickets common in these parts of the Appalachian foothills. Now, up till now, any reasonable person could see the plausibility and utter truth of my story, but I will admit, it gets hard to swallow from here on out. I’m not exactly sure what happened next, but I believe that he ran past an old pickup whose only functioning part happened to be the drivers-side mirror. He must have caught a glimpse of himself; skinned and entangled in barbed wire, and suffered what I can only describe as “fright-induced-instant-death syndrome”, or FIIDS, as I have seen it referred to in whitetail management circles. As wild animals are often wont to do, (remember the chicken stories your Grandmother told you) although for all practical purpose being dead on the hoof, reflexive motion caused the buck to turn back towards our deer camp at a dead run (literally) and attempt to jump over the same fence that proved to be his Waterloo. He made a poorly-timed attempt to clear a wicked-looking metal fencepost, failed, and gave himself a nasty slice from brisket to paunch on the tip of the post. As his reflexes gave out, he managed a strange head-first twisting jump and snagged the remaining barbed-wire high in an overhanging branch of and old Burr Oak. By the time I caught up, panting and sweating, a strange silence hung over the deserted camp. There was the majestic buck; skinned, gutted, and hung not 10 yards from our campfire. All that was left for me to do was affix my tag, and my season was ended. Strangest thing I’ve ever seen, and true as the day is long. That deer is mounted and hung above the dining room table. It cost me extra to have the taxidermist mount the neck without any fur, but I think the remaining strand of barbed wire in his left antler is the finishing touch. Forgot to add: He green scored 197 12/32, and dried slightly larger to an amazing 200 1/5 inches on the nose.
I assume you're only looking for true stories. This is one I posted a few years ago. I will admit, it was not all true. (The buck was slightly larger than I reported. Hate bragging on the Internet...)
Once, when I was still a bowhunter and not yet graduated to high-caliber rifles of enormous potential, I came upon a very nice 5 X 5 buck, marking his dominance into an old barbed-wire fencepole. I approached him head on, and the wind must have been swirling, because he nosed me and jerked his head up to look for the source of said scent. In doing so, he managed to snag, then securely anchor himself, in the fence; first on his rack, and eventually on the fur around his head as he struggled. Excitable in my youth, I thought it Providence that this buck be “shewn to me” and I drew back. I was going for a poorly-chosen head-on chest shot, but upon hearing the “twang” of the bow, the beast tried to duck! With his neck firmly anchored it amounted to more of a collapse, and my broadhead cut along his back from base of skull to tip of tail down to the backstrap. This added new strength to the buck! Wrenching himself from the fence, he actually started to de-cape himself! As I fumbled for another arrow he continued to snort, tug and further extricate himself from his fetters at the expense of his hide. Soon he was stripped naked, down to his hooves, when the barbed wire gave way, with only a three-foot piece still wrapped around his antlers. With a mighty tug, he finished his impromptu self-skinning job Leaving his entire hide caught on the demolished fence. With no discernable effect he turned and ran back along the fence, towards an old depository of farming implements, beer cans and plum thickets common in these parts of the Appalachian foothills. Now, up till now, any reasonable person could see the plausibility and utter truth of my story, but I will admit, it gets hard to swallow from here on out. I’m not exactly sure what happened next, but I believe that he ran past an old pickup whose only functioning part happened to be the drivers-side mirror. He must have caught a glimpse of himself; skinned and entangled in barbed wire, and suffered what I can only describe as “fright-induced-instant-death syndrome”, or FIIDS, as I have seen it referred to in whitetail management circles. As wild animals are often wont to do, (remember the chicken stories your Grandmother told you) although for all practical purpose being dead on the hoof, reflexive motion caused the buck to turn back towards our deer camp at a dead run (literally) and attempt to jump over the same fence that proved to be his Waterloo. He made a poorly-timed attempt to clear a wicked-looking metal fencepost, failed, and gave himself a nasty slice from brisket to paunch on the tip of the post. As his reflexes gave out, he managed a strange head-first twisting jump and snagged the remaining barbed-wire high in an overhanging branch of and old Burr Oak. By the time I caught up, panting and sweating, a strange silence hung over the deserted camp. There was the majestic buck; skinned, gutted, and hung not 10 yards from our campfire. All that was left for me to do was affix my tag, and my season was ended. Strangest thing I’ve ever seen, and true as the day is long. That deer is mounted and hung above the dining room table. It cost me extra to have the taxidermist mount the neck without any fur, but I think the remaining strand of barbed wire in his left antler is the finishing touch. Forgot to add: He green scored 197 12/32, and dried slightly larger to an amazing 200 1/5 inches on the nose.
