Hits and Misses on the Trail.
Many years ago when deer were plenty in this section of the country
(North Central Pennsylvania) and dogs were allowed to run deer at
their will, there being no restriction by way of law against hounding
deer, I started from the house about 10 o'clock in the morning to go
to some traps that I had set for mink along the creek in a swamp not
far from our place. There was an old road or path that led from the
wagon road down through the swamp to the creek. Along this path it
was thickly grown up with laurel and other underbrush that nearly
shut out the path.
I was accustomed to follow this path to the creek when going to look
after my traps. On my way up to the road I heard dogs barking as
though they were on the trail of something, but thought nothing of it
as it was a common occurrence to hear hounds running nearly every
day. I was following this path and had got within a few rods of the
creek and was just about ready to climb over a fallen tree that lay
across the path.
The tree lay up from the ground about a foot or so and it was perhaps
three feet from the ground up to the top of the log. I was just in
the act of climbing this log when a good-sized buck deer went to jump
the log also and we met, head on. I had no gun and if I had would
have had no time to use it. I seized the deer by the horns and forced
him back from the log with a startled cry at the same time. The deer,
instead of trying to get away, seemed bound to come over the log to
where I was, so I held to the deer's horns, not daring to let loose.
I could keep him from raising over the log and after he tried several
times to jump the log, he then tried to break loose from me, but I
had the advantage of the deer owing to the log being so high that the
deer could not pull me over, neither could the deer get in shape to
strike me with his feet under the log. I think that I was so badly
frightened at the sudden meeting with the deer, that I did not know
what to do so I hung tight to the buck's horns and called as loud as
I could for help, thinking that some one might possibly be passing
along the road, which was not so far away, hear my call and come to
my assistance, but no one came. A man by the name of Nelson lived
about a fourth of a mile away, who had a large bulldog. The dog's
name was Turk. This dog would follow me at every chance that he could
get. As no assistance came, I had about made up my mind to release my
hold on the deer as my strength was fast leaving me, when I thought
to call for Turk. I began calling as loud as I could and it seemed
that the dog had heard my calling before I began, for almost before I
was aware of his presence the dog sprang over the log and seized the
deer by the hind leg, but the dog had barely grabbed the deer when
the deer kicked him away from the path into the laurel.
In an instant the dog, with an angry yelp, jumped and seized the deer
by the throat and in a moment the deer ceased to struggle and began
to settle to the ground. As soon as I dared to release my hold on the
deer's horns I got my pocket knife out and sprang over the log and
ran the knife blade into the deer's throat. The deer did not seem to
notice the knife. I think that the dog had choked the life out of
him. The battle was over and it was only a few minutes but it was the
hardest battle that I ever had and the dog came to my assistance none
too soon for I could not have held on much longer.
This did not end the fight, for I had hardly begun to dress the deer
before two dogs that were in pursuit of the deer came up. I was
compelled to use sticks, stones and clubs to break up a fight between
the bulldog and the hounds, though I finally got the row broke up and
drove the hounds off in order to keep peace.
Boys, I am not sure whether the incident just related would be called
a hit or a miss. I will tell of an incident that I call a hit. A man
by the name of Wells and a brother of mine were camping near the old
Jersey Shore turnpike and were trapping, also hunting deer. One day
they had been off on the west side of the turnpike setting marten
traps and had built a number of deadfalls and had also set several
steel traps for foxes. On their way home to camp they had to cross
several low ridges which were good sections for deer. It was nearly
sundown and just the right time for deer to be on their feet feeding
so we spread out along one of the ridges in hopes that some of us
might get a shot. There was a good tracking snow and deer tracks were
plenty. We were on the last ridge before we dropped off into the
hollow to where the camp was and it was beginning to get dark in the
heavy timber. I had come out onto a short spur of the ridge and was
standing looking over the ground very carefully to see if I could not
see a deer feeding, when I heard a shot fired by one of the boys. In
a few moments a bunch of five or six deer came in sight, making their
way around the point at breakneck speed.
I opened fire on the bunch without taking aim at any particular deer,
as it was too dark to get down to real business and the deer were in
too much of a hurry to change their feeding grounds to give me very
much of a show. I was not stingy of my ammunition and pumped lead at
the bunch as long as I could guess where the deer were. As soon as I
had ceased to waste ammunition I heard my brother calling for me.
When I got to him he was at work taking the entrails out of a good
sized buck. We dragged the deer down to where the deer were when I
began shooting to see if I had chanced to hit one of the bunch. It
was too dark to see much but we found a little blood on the snow in
one place but concluded that I had not done much damage.
We dragged the buck that my brother had killed to camp, got our
supper and made plans for the next day's work. It was agreed that I
should look after the bunch of deer and see what effect my shots had
on the deer that we had found that had bled some. I was to work this
bunch of deer while the other boys went to look after the marten
traps, being quite sure that there would be a marten or two in the
traps, for we had built some deadfalls where we saw fresh marten
signs quite plenty.
The next morning I was up early and had breakfast before daylight and
ready to start out and carry out the work as already planned. It was
about one-fourth of a mile from camp to the turnpike and as the deer
which I was going to look for were making their course, the last I
had seen them, in the direction of the road, I was going to go to the
road and then go north along the road to see if they had crossed. The
boys would take the same path to the road that I did when they would
go south of camp to look after the marten traps.
I had my gun and stood in the cabin door waiting for my brother and
Wells to get ready as I would accompany them as far as the road. The
boys were having some trouble belting their leggins and creepers on
to their satisfaction. I became tired of waiting and made the remark
that I could go and kill a deer before they could get their feet
dressed. My brother said that I had better be going then, so I
started on up the path to the road. It was thawing a little, just
enough to make the snow pack. I had gone about a hundred yards from
camp when I saw a track of a deer where it had stepped into the path,
then had turned back about forty yards to the left of the path. A
large birch tree had blown down, knocking one or two smaller trees
down so that it made a little jam. Seeing that the tracks were so
fresh I knew that the deer was close by and as the woods were open I
was quite positive that the deer must be about the jam of trees, when
a large doe stepped out in sight and it was only the work of a moment
to let her down in her tracks. When the gun cracked out jumped a
yearling buck that was lying down just in the edge of the jam and
bounded over the trunk of a large birch and stopped broadside to me
and I let him down. Thinking of what I had said on leaving the cabin
and what my brother had said to me I ran back to camp as quick as I
could go without even stopping to cut the deer's throat. As I came
around the corner of the cabin I heard my brother say to Wells, "I
bet a gander that he has killed a deer all right, for he would not
shoot twice so quick at anything else."
Well, the boys had not got their feet dressed yet, but chance had
allowed me to make my word good only I had killed two deer instead of
one. The boys helped me to hang up the deer and then went to the
marten traps while I went in search of the deer I had started after.
Soon I struck the trail of the deer and shortly saw that one of them
had a broken leg and I did not follow the trail far when the wounded
deer dropped out and left the others. I began doing the creeping act
and soon found the deer lying on his trail. I hung the deer up and
went back to camp thinking that I had enough sport for one day and
would let well enough alone.
When the boys came in at night they brought in two marten skins.