By BILL SCURLOCK
A couple of weeks ago I had occasion to be in Alabama deer hunting. Dad and I were invited down there to do some hunting with our muzzleloaders. For any of you who don’t know, a muzzleloader is an old fashioned Daniel Boone type gun. You saw some if you ever watched Young Daniel Boone on TV or saw Jeremiah Johnson at the movies. Going to Alabama seemed to be a pretty good idea because the state has a deer season that lasts about 60 days and the limit is one buck per day.
Naturally, there were deer all over the place. Not only were deer plentiful, but the squirrels would almost run over you. Nobody hurts squirrels much where we were so they weren’t scared of people at all. I was so close to a couple of them I could have hit them with my ramrod. In addition to deer and squirrels, we saw ducks, turkeys, raccoons, and bobcats.
The first day out was about par for me. I saw a wide variety of game and enjoyed every bit of it, but I didn’t see a buck. I got back to camp and felt pretty confident about hunting the next day. I had the feeling I would see a buck.
The second morning I was easing along through a creek bottom watching a flock of turkeys when out of nowhere, it seemed, a giant buck appeared about 50 yards away. I estimated, because I was shaking too much to make an accurate count, that he had at least 20 points. As he walked along browsing on acorns, he kept a wary eye on the turkeys and the rest of his senses were alert to any danger. I tried to take a steady aim using a small oak tree as a rest. As I squeezed the trigger, I thought for sure he would be mine. It was just too easy a shot to miss.
When the trigger engaged the lock, all I heard was a dull clicking sound. I had forgotten to prime my flintlock. I was cussing myself as the buck started away but then he just stopped and looked at me. As I fumbled around for my powder horn, he started coming toward me. I was elated, to say the least. I primed my gun as fast as I could and when I looked up he was about 10 feet away and coming at full speed. I ducked and shot at the same time and narrowly missed getting trampled under his hooves.
I came up off the ground running for all I was worth, but there was no way to outrun that giant buck. He was almost on top off me again when I whirled around and swung my gun at him. I felt it connect and break but saw that I only hit him on the antlers. It stunned him long enough for me to get a good running start but soon he was gaining ground.
I could only think of one thing to do and if I didn’t do it fast it would be curtains for me. I reached up and caught the first low limb I came to and went up that tree as fast as I could. He stamped around the bottom of the tree for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. I threw my skinning knife at him once, but that only seemed to make him madder. He just kept snorting and looking up in the tree at me. Finally, about mid-afternoon, he got tired and apparently left.
I waited in the tree until it was almost dark and finally got up the nerve to climb down and look around. Then cautiously, I started running at a steady lope back to camp.
About halfway back a movement caught my eye and there was that same buck coming toward me. I spotted a gully over to my left and ran up it as far as I could. When I got to the end, the sides were almost vertical and there was no way for me to get out except the way I had come. I turned around just in time to see him make the last big charge and braced myself.
If you ever get a chance to go down to Alabama to do some hunting, it would be well worth your time to go. It is a sportsman’s paradise set in some beautiful country with abundant game and fairly liberal game laws.
What happened to the giant buck? Why, he kilt me, of course. Ya’ll have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.