That afternoon, the men relaxed around the fire talking and sharing more hunting stories, a favorite pastime.
Ed shared a time when he and his friends Brian and Rusty had been hunting up on Harrington Mountain.
“Rusty and I had several opportunities to get a good buck that day, but nothing seemed to mesh and they all had gotten away.”
“After hiking for most of the day, we met up with Brian back at the pickup. The bolt mechanism on his rifle wasn’t working properly, so he couldn’t use his gun anymore. Good thing he didn’t see anything… it would’ve driven him mad!”
The men nodded, agreeing whole heartedly, relating to Ed’s story.
“Instead of heading back to camp, we decided to venture on for an evening hunt. So, we drove out onto one of the Forest Service roads, located on the west side of Slug Creek.”
“Slug Creek, huh? What a name!” snickered Fred. “What kinda name is that?”
“I don’t know,” smiled Ed agreeing. “When I first saw that name on the topographical map, it made me wonder too. How in the world do some places get named? Was this area infested so badly with those slow moving, slimy creatures that they had to name the creek after them? Or did some poor soul get into a fight and get ‘slugged’ so hard that he fell into the creek and drown?”
All the men were smiling, while Fred continued to snicker.
“Anyway, back to my story. Late into the evening we noticed several deer off the logging roads, but nothing with antlers. As the evening light diminished, signaling the end of another hunting day, we resigned ourselves to the fact we would have to quit and try again the next day for those elusive bucks. Unloading our rifles, we put the bullets into our pockets as we climbed into the truck and started off for camp, about 15 miles away. The dirt road led us out of the trees and onto the crest of an open ridge, mostly covered with dry, golden field grass.”
“We were almost off the mountain, with only a mile to go before the main road, when I looked at my watch and noticed that there was only a few minutes left of legal hunting time. Suddenly Brain hit the brakes and we came to a sliding halt.”
“In one swift moment, everything changed for us. ‘There’s a buck!’ he said as all three of us spotted it at the same time. It must have come up from below. The first thing I noticed was the spread of the antlers, which were as wide as his ears, a descent buck. Not huge, but a buck that we wouldn’t want to pass up. It froze in place, starring at us as it stood in a broadside position and only seventy-five yards in front of the rig.”
“With my heart beating with excitement and without any hesitation, I anxiously tried to hurry and get out of the truck. Reaching down to find the passenger door handle, I couldn’t find it. The three of us were squished in the front seat so tight, my right leg was in the way. With my fingers searching frantically, I tried to feel anything that resembled a door handle. I felt blindly every curve and edge of the side panel, reading it like Braille, with the precious moments ticking away. Finally, I found it and bailed out. Rusty was right behind me.”
“Because Brian’s gun wasn’t working, he stayed in the truck and watched from behind the steering wheel.”
“Once out of the truck, I reached into my pocket, grabbed two bullets and chambered the ammo. Rusty threw one round into his gun. I swiftly stepped ahead of the pickup, knelt down and drew the crosshairs of my rifle scope on the vital area of the buck.”
“Be calm, I told myself. Hold it right behind the shoulder, hold it… steady. I was mentally saying to myself don’t mess this up. I now had perfect aim and my rifle was steady as a rock. This is it. It’s time to squeeze the trigger. Gently I squeezed… nothing. A little harder… HARDER! NO!!! My gun won’t fire. What’s wrong with my rifle now? ‘Shoot him!’ I told Rusty. ‘My rifle’s messed up’.”
“I looked down at my gun and saw that the safety was on. I couldn’t believe it! But to my surprise, Rusty didn’t fire his rifle either. Incredibly, his safety was on too! We weren’t used to hunting right out of the truck.”
“Brian was watching all of this from inside the truck and he was in disbelief. Here was this buck standing there broadside, a super easy shot and we weren’t shooting or doing anything. ‘Shoot, shoot! Why aren’t you guys SHOOTING!’ he’s yelling at us.”
“You can’t expect a buck to hang around forever and he didn’t. By the time Rusty and I had our safeties off, the buck was leaping over the edge and heading out of sight.”
“Not wavering, we both ran over to the edge and saw the buck at full speed going further and further down the side toward the bottom!”
“It’s amazing how thoughts can come into one’s mind when the moment is full of intense action and excitement. The first thing I thought of was NOT AGAIN! Visions ran through my mind of the night before, when I missed that four-point. Another one’s getting away, I despondently thought. I can’t let this happen again!”
“Not giving up, my eyes and aim were tracking the buck again. As the buck was half way down the hill, I took another shot. But, my bullet hit the only tree in the open hillside as the buck darted behind it. Rusty fired and missed, as well.”
“Reaching into his pocket, Rusty pulled out another bullet to load into his gun. Without taking his eyes off his target, he tried to chamber it… but something was wrong. The bullet wouldn’t go in. Rusty was fumbling around so much, he had to relent and take his eyes off the buck to look down to see what the problem was. To his bewilderment, he was trying to put an Alkaline AA Battery into his rifle. Rusty was now completely and totally done. It was mentally over for him. He was wasted. What a shocking revelation.”
“After running full speed all the way to the bottom, now about 200 yards away, the buck stopped momentarily in the dark shadows of the forest below. He took one last look at us, as he glanced over his back, probably snickering and then disappeared into the trees. Not a very good day of hunting, I can tell you.”
“With each hunting experience, there is always something to learn. Even though Rusty was an expert hunter, he quickly learned not to put his batteries in with his bullets, and we both learned to make sure our safety was off when we needed our guns the most,” Ed concluded.
The men had enjoyed that story immensely, especially Fred.
Some of men went into the tent to rest until the evening hunt, including Pastor Tom. His first day had been exhausting and he wanted to put his feet up.
Braxton limped around on the crutch and then sat in his truck, brooding.
The Encounter
A Tale Of True Love Page 28
