Most family’s that are close usually have something that brings them together, like game night or camping. My family has hunting. Every year my aunt and uncle along with their two kids drive from New York Mills to my grandparent’s house in Pengilly. Deer season is the time of year that brings us together.
The way it works is early in the morning my two uncles, my two cousins, and my gramps and I all head out to position ourselves in this valley so that no matter which way they come through we can at least get a shot off. My story though begins around one or two in the afternoon after the prime hours that the deer move on their own. On this day I was riding with my gramps in his two door diesel pickup. We had decided to drive along the creek to see if we could kick a few up. We had driven about two miles along the creek in one of our fields south of the house. To stay awake and stay warm we drink coffee or hot chocolate so we had to stop quickly to take care of business.
I had my back turned to a hill where the wind was coming from when off to my left I hear a yell followed by a bunch of shots from my gramps 30-06 and I had to finish as quickly as possible as I reached for my 30-30 rifle and turn to see a large buck running across the field and leap into a neighbors field. Luckily we also own the field on the other side of it and the field is next to it is a friend’s field. As fast as I have ever seen me and my grandfather move we were in the tuck and turned around in seconds and in hot pursuit.
To get ahead of the buck my gramps had to drive around the field as fast as possible to our field on the next hill. To outrun a deer you must move very fast and my grandfather decided that seventy miles an hour across a cornfield was the way to go. Naturally corn fields are not smooth. Looking ahead we didn’t see what was coming, a deep dip in the field that created the perfect ramp. My gramps one and a half ton pickup was at least five feet off the ground and...
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