Good Memory Bucks

[bigmacc]

This is a classic involving my dad and a good friend of mine, this story usually comes up around the fire every year, its a memory of my dad and, (what I've heard) was quite a big buck. When my friend and my dad came back to camp my friend who was actually known for downplaying the size of deer pulled me off to the side and was damn near shaking with eyes the size of saucers while he was telling me what happened.

This took place when my dad was in his late 70,s, those that knew my dad know he has killed plenty of trophy mule deer in his life time, he himself only kept one set of antlers and that was the big non typical he killed back in the 60,s that a bunch of game department folks came up to camp and asked if they could look it over and weigh it. Later in my dads life I actually started saving some of his antlers before he had the chance to give them away . After hearing about this buck, I'm sure it would have been one of those sets I would have kept him from giving away.

My buddy and myself had already killed our bucks along with the majority of the camp, most folks had actually headed home, I believe there were around 6 or 7 of us left at camp. The snow was falling in the high country and had been for about 4 or 5 days, my dad wanted to go into an area he hadn't been into in years, he had one of "those feelings" he was famous for. It was at around 6,000 feet and we knew it would be a tough hike in because of the snow but my dad wanted to go in, my friend went with him and I went into another route with another friend, we were about 4-5 miles away from where my dad and buddy were. The hike they had to get to this particular spot was only about a mile, but a bit sketchy with some rock bluffs and shale to go through to get to the spot. My buddy said he and dad made it not more than a few hundred yards in when they spotted a shadow laying in a thicket. The snow was about a foot deep where they were at but fine powder, really quiet to walk in. They stopped and my buddy put his glasses on the form laying in the thicket, he said right away he could tell it was a buck and that it was BIG! My buddy told my dad "its a buck but I can't tell how big", ( it was either the 1st or 2nd year of the 3 point rule), my dad then put his scope on the buck which was about 100 yards away, my dad and my buddy kept watching for him to turn any direction so they could count points, the buck was just laying there in the thicket with limbs and branches dangling all around him. My buddy said my dad kept calmly saying "man thats a dandy, I just can't count the points", my buddy said the rack was thick and very heavy with at least two long tines on the drivers side that he could see, the way the buck was positioned in the trees he couldn't tell the rest. After about 5 minutes or so the buck stood up, my buddy said he whispered to my dad "HOLY S@#T", my dad put his rifle back up and had him in the scope, my buddy whispered again "HOLY S@#T, shoot!" My dad calmly said "is it legal, I can't tell", my buddy said "YES, its a HUGE 3 point, shoot", my dad very calmly again said, I only see 2, my buddy said they went back and forth while the buck started nonchalantly walking out the back side of the thicket, my buddy still saying "SHOOT,SHOOT" while he was watching the buck in his binos. My friend said the whole ordeal lasted about 10 minutes, my dad finally seeing the "3rd" point as the buck dropped over the edge into a jack pine thicket said calmly and I quote "well I guess that was a pretty nice buck". We went into the same area for the remaining 3 or so days of the season, all of us spreading out, my brother and his friends, everybody, we wanted someone in our group to kill this buck. My friend who was with him said it was an absolute monster of a 3 point, he said when the buck stood up and turned his head to the point he could count them all and got a good look, he said the tines were probably 16-17 inches long and super thick, then the buck turned all the way around and walked out the back, my buddy said he had his ears flared straight out and the rack went about 2-3 inches past each ear. We never seen that buck again, it still haunts my buddy, he really wanted my dad to kill that buck. Every time my buddy would bring up the story my dad would just say at the end "oh well, I'll see another one". You know what, he's seeing plenty of them now

[blindluck]

bigmacc, I always say only if you could see the bucks this tree has seen over the years. Your dad is one of those trees.

[bigmacc]

bigmacc, I always say only if you could see the bucks this tree has seen over the years. Your dad is one of those trees.

Thats a true statement and I agree, thank you.

[bigmacc]

My dad used to love telling this one, it was one of his favorite stories to tell of my great grandparents, there were many hunting stories involving these two with lots of pictures scattered through our family but this one as I said was one of my dads favorites.

It was a bluebird day, sunny and a bit warm and grandma and grandpa came back to camp early and left a note for my dad to let him know they were going to make a lunch and take a hike, they took one rifle. They were going into an area that they hunted back in the day, back when it was private, belonging to one of the original valley familys but now it was owned by the Game Department, it would just be a nice hike topped off by a nice lunch enjoying a nice day going into an area they first hunted in the early 1900,s. On the way in they needed to pass by some areas that folks camped in, camps just scattered around and once through they would go through a big swell and over a really large knob and drop into a beautiful big bowl. They got through the camp area, skirting around one side and headed into the big swell when grandpa started hearing "motor type noises" ahead of them in the distance, there were no roads in that direction so they were both a little baffled, they kept going. When they got close to the top of the knob the sound was getting louder and more distinguished, sounded like motor bikes. They slowly made it to the top of the knob to see a couple young boys driving around the outside of the knob on old Honda trail bikes. They sat and watched them awhile going round and round, the circle they were doing was maybe 75 yards give or take in circumference, maybe a bit larger,  . After a few minutes grandpa noticed some ears and antlers in the thick brush, there was a buck laying there apparently trying not to give himself up, thinking his only chance was to lay low. Grandpa motioned for the boys to come over, dad said they were in their early teens maybe younger, grandpa told them there was a buck laying in there and wanted to know if one of the boys wanted to shoot it, they told grandpa that neither had tags and there parents were all out hunting. With everything quiet and all of them whispering the buck must have got nervous. It stood up and grandpa killed it right where it stood only for a second one to bust out running, grandpa handed grandma the rifle and dropped it with one shot(she could outshoot anyone I knew back then and even today) which was no surprise with her shooting ability and background. Well, they had 2 nice 4 points on the ground, could have been twins except I believe one was 26" wide and the other was 26 1/2" wide, a half inch difference , beautiful bucks. Dad got back to camp later that evening seeing 2 big bucks hanging on the pole and grandpa and grandma cleaning up, blood to their elbows, dad jokingly asked "whats this all about", grandma answered, "well grandpa decided to ruin our lunch" ....They were two pees in a pod, married over 60 years and did everything together, those on here that know them know they were inseparable, hunting and fishing together was their passion, whether it be caribou and moose in Alaska or mule deer in Washington, they were quite a pair.

[bigmacc]

Heres another great memory buck. This fella was another Ironworker friend of my dads who died in an on the job accident about 25 years ago, his name was Nick but we all called him "Neek the Greek" because of his Greek heritage, both his mom and dad were born in Greece. Nick was around 6'6" tall and 280lbs or so, had olive skin and jet black wavy hair. Nick was a great husband, father and friend, he worked with my dad all around the country "walking iron". He was an impeccable dresser, always looked sharp whether in his street clothes, work clothes or hunting attire, when out hunting he always wore red long johns, 2 perfectly pressed hickory shirts, wool pinstriped pants, red suspenders topped with a Black Bear wool coat and an orange crusher hat and a pair of Hermen Survivors on his feet. I remember the outfit exactly, he wore the same garb every hunting season since I was a small boy. His Ford trucks were immaculate also, he always bought new and when he would trade them in they looked like they had just left the showroom floor, he kept log books of everything done to everything he owned from his vehicles to his lawnmowers to his firearms, if you ever purchased or traded anything with Nick, you got a great deal, trust me!

I hadn't seen Nick kill too many deer over the years, he hunted hard, ethicaly and was always the last to return to camp. He killed a few 2 points and 3 points through the years but could never connect with a big fella, he didn't care, he loved to hunt, he loved the camp and the people. Grandma and grandpa took a special liking to Nick over the years, grandpa would share many "spots" with Nick and one of those was "grandpas tree" which I've told other stories of on here. Nick was honored when grandpa took him to the tree one day, not easy to find, a godforsaken hole that many would just pass right through(if they did happen to stumble onto it) but grandpa had learned something about this spot back in the 1920,s and to this day we still pull bucks out of it, sometimes 3 or 4 in a season, and gods truth, we have never seen anyone else in this area, ever.  Nick felt honored as I said and hunted it every day when grandpa got to the point he couldn't make it in there anymore. Nick would see plenty of deer including bucks but it was a tough place to hunt and learn, you basically had one shot, it was thick with just a few shooting lanes, everything had to come together when you sat in the pile of old limbs and brush you would stack around yourself. Well, one year Nick hiked back to camp, about 5 miles or so, he had been gone since around 3A.M and now it was around 6 P.M, Nick didn't look his dapper self, he looked a little "different", he said he was going to take his truck and go fill it up and make a phone call to home, he would be back. Dad said, something didn't seem right, he and his wife were about to have another child so dad wondered if he may just be worried about that . Nick had been gone about 2 hours when he pulled into camp, he got out of his truck, came and sat by the fire, we asked if everything was ok at home, he said "just dandy", everything was fine and they were hoping the baby would be there in a couple more weeks, on schedule. Nick finally walked over to his truck and dropped the tailgate, there laying in back on an old sleeping bag was a real nice spike! Nick had killed him at grandpas tree, he was like a kid on Christmas morning. He was so proud of that buck, he killed a few more bucks at  the tree over the years until he died but none that he was more proud of than that spike he killed that broke the ice at "grandpas tree". R.I.P "Neek the Greek"

[Skyvalhunter]

 

[teanawayslayer]

You need to write a book bigmacc. Good stuff! Thanks for sharing. Always makes for a great read!

[bigmacc]

One more about my dad and a buck that amoungst a handful of other ones haunted him until the day he died. He was just a boy when this happened(I think he was around 9 or 10) and he and my great grandma(my dads grandma) had jumped a buck. It was an ordeal that could have ended very badly but didn't. My dad could have cared less, he was just upset about the buck, grandma and grandpa had a different view I will try to tell it the best I can remember it because I wasn't  there but did hear the story many times from my dad, not because of the "ordeal" but because of the buck

Dad and grandma had went into an area that when deer were moving, back then, it was nothing to see 2-300 a day move through. Dad and grandma made it to the spot, almost, when they were starting up an old sheep trail they jumped a bunch of deer, about 10 or so bolted out of a thicket with the last one out being a huge buck. My dad said they had no idea how big it was when it busted out, all they seen was an azz over 2 feet wide carrying a bunch of antlers as it went over the hill about 50 yards in front of them. Dad said he took off after it when grandma said "hold on, he aint gonna wait for ya", she told him to sit tight and they would let the dust settle a bit. After awhile they went way out and around the bench he had went over and came into the area from a completely different angle, there he was again, by himself. They all locked eyes about the same time and he blew out like he was shot out of a cannon. This time grandma sent dad around a different way where she thought the buck may end up(about 2 or 3 hours had passed by now), miles had been covered, but grandma thought she could outsmart this buck , that was the way she was and believe it or not, more times than not she would come out on top. Well, dad went around another big rock outcropping, grandma went another way but in the same area, she told dad when he made it to the creek to stop there and she would meet up with him, they were literally in the same turf, just different elevations. Dad jumped the buck on his way. Dad decided to chase the buck. Dad ended up who knows where but ended up being found the next day 11 miles from where they "jumped the buck", just wandering down an old logging road It wasnt funny for sure when it happened, great grandma always stuck to that story, but my dad had a totally different take, "the buck was HUGE", years later, that was the only thing grandma would acknowledge to the point she agreed with him about and said "I probably would have chased him for 11 miles too, he was that big"
 

[bigmacc]

Looking through some old pictures I came across another of my dads old Ironworking buddies, his name was Roy, he passed away in an on the job accident back in the 80,s, fell 12 feet off a ladder hitting a false floor made of plywood, another foot or two in either direction he would have made the ride to the ground of 56 stories, instead only fell 12 feet and died of internal injuries a few days later while in intensive care, you'd think landing on that false floor would have saved his life, Landing on his tool belt full of spud wrenches did him in. R.I.P Roy.

Roy was one of four of my dads closest friends who were part of the camp for over 25 years or so that died on the job. Roy was about 5'8 and weighed in at about 200lbs, a solid 200lbs. He was an ex Marine, full of tattoos and til his last day sported a high and tight flat top that any leatherneck would appreciate.

Back in the 70,s my dad had one of his "feelings" he was famous for, we all had our bucks except for Roy and another fella. Dad wanted to go to a particular spot thats about an hours drive from camp and about a 3 hour hike in, my dad, an uncle, myself and Roy left at about 2 A.M. The spot is a corridor my great grandparents discovered back in the early 1900,s, in fact back in the 50,s and 60,s many Game Department folks would pick their brains about this area compiling data and for future studying of migratory routes. Well, I remember it was COLD, it never got above 10 degrees the whole season, in fact until mid afternoon it never got above zero. We started into the area, heading for a boxed canyon, when the sun came up we were seeing literally 100,s of deer laying back in the openings of thickets, just laying under trees out of the snow, not a horn to be seen, all does. We figured it was 10-15 below, we were at about 5500 feet with a foot or so of snow on the ground, we had our coats, or scarves pulled up over our faces because it hurt to breath hard if exerted, it was so cold. We eventually made it to the canyon, its about 400 yards or so across and maybe a little more than that deep. It goes up from the bottom about another 4-500 yards in the back of the canyon. Its filled with thickets, benches and rock with 3 escape routes out of it, one at the bottom and two across the back at the top. We parked Roy at the bottom, put him in between two big blow downs, I remember him saying something like, "its like I'm in a dang fox hole" , he was so short and square that once we got him wedged in there about all you could see was his head sticking out . The other 3 of us went way out and around the canyon and started up the backside where we then split up, my dad heading for one of the other escape routes and myself and an uncle headed for the other. By the time we reached the top about an hour or so had passed by since we left Roy in the "fox hole", no cell phones back then so we basically told him when we left to wait for all hell to break loose in about an hour or so, we were right on schedule. We started down both escape routes, about 150-200 yards apart, we were rolling rocks down the benches and into thickets then we would stop and listen, you could hear the deer busting loose headed for the third escape route. After 20 or so minutes of rinse and repeat we heard the BOOM. We eventually made it to the bottom seeing Roy standing over a dandy 6 by 5, about 27 inches wide. He said "man that was easy, the hard part was picking which one to shoot". He said probably about 150 deer had blown by him on each side, he said about 14 or 15 were bucks, but he was wedged in so tight he could only shoot comfortably and ethicaly to his right , he said there was a bigger one that went to the left but he couldn't get his rifle on it, something I guess we should have figured in while concocting the ambush I guess . My dad was pretty proud of that day, everything went according to plan and a dandy buck was down.


One day I will have to tell the story of how Jim Croce almost ended up in our hunting camp, yep he did a little Ironworking before he made it big

[Skyvalhunter]

I didn't know Jim was from this area.

[bigmacc]

I didn't know Jim was from this area.

He wasn’t Sky, he was from back east, New York or Jersey, I don’t remember, somewhere back east, my dad worked all over the country( even a few places abroad), putting up  towers, skyscrapers, dams you name it, he met and worked with a lot of characters during the years. Oh boy! I already told the story of the guy from Wyoming, he met while putting up towers outside of Sheridan, he’s the one who was kicked in the face by a mule when he was young and lost an eye, later in life he had a whole box full of fake eyes, he had one for every holiday, an eye with a shamrock painted where the pupil would be that he wore on st paddy’s day, one with a flag he wore on the fourth and on and on, he must have had 20 different eyes in that box. My dad talked him into moving to this state back when construction was booming here, last I heard he moved back to Wyoming a few years after he retired. When I was younger I met some real dandies that became good friends and part of our camp, Never did meet Croce though, my dad worked with him at a couple different jobs, I remember dad saying he heard a few of his songs before he was famous , he would play his guitar and sing while on lunch break or when they’d go out for a few beers. Dad had invited him to come to Washington to just be in camp for vacation, he could sit around the fire and play and sing his songs. I don’t remember what happened but he never made it, next thing I know he was on the radio👍

[bigmacc]

Had someone on here ask me to tell this one, I wasn't there when this happened but my dad was and he used to get a kick out of it, it was a "hell of a buck" from what my dad said but it never ended up on our pole.

Back in the 70,s and 80,s I had a buddy that had moved up from Arizona for construction work, he hunted with us for 20 or so years until he moved back to Arizona. Randy was born and raised in the desert, loved hunting, in fact he had a pretty impressive photo album himself, hunting northern Arizona for everything from mule deer to coues deer to elk to mountain lion(what we call cougars) to wild pigs. The story I told years ago of my friend and his brother that killed 2 domestic pigs(turned feral) after a live stock truck went on its side, well that was him. Randy was and is a great guy, I still communicate with him from time to time, he still kills big desert mule deer(antlers anyways ) and still remembers this story better than I do for sure, because he was there.

My dad had an old 72 ford Bronco(still wish we had it ), it wasn't my dads first Bronco, this one he bought in pieces and kind of put it back together for hunting, his first Bronco he bought at Brien Ford, it was a 71 or 72 I don't remember, anyway he fell in love with it, brand new on the showroom floor and baby blue with a white top, I was with him. He paid cash for it and we drove home within an hour, $2,700. Man we hauled a lot of deer home in the back, top and tailgate of that thing. Sorry, back on the story. This "other" bronco my dad had purchased years later that he put together was in our camp for a few years, it was used basically for my dad doing his "midnight rides" . My dad would sit and stir in camp like a little kid the day before Christmas if weather was moving in, if it had come in a week earlier, it was snowing, it was raining, the wind was blowing, there was a moon, there wasn't a moon, it didn't matter with dad, everything revolved about when, where and how much the deer were moving. He had Randy convinced also, along with the rest of us. After all, he's killed a few bucks.

I remember sitting around the fire one night, we were just about ready to hit the sack, it was snowing pretty good and it was cold enough we were keeping our eggs and milk etc close to the fire to keep everything from freezing, some of you may remember that, it was cold! Dad said "I bet deer are moving through @#$%^, who wants to go and check out some fresh tracks"(he used to either drive roads at night when it snowed or just sit at certain places and watch them move in the headlights). Well, we all went to bed except for Randy, he was already asleep in a chair by the fire with snow packed all around his head and collar, did I mention Randy had a sleeping disorder? Randy would fall asleep pretty much anywhere at anytime, everyone was concerned including his wife, we have many pictures of Randy at hunting camp in all kinds of poses, he never knew what hit him, he was asleep. Sorry for rambling.

Well, dad grabbed Randy, woke him up and said "lets go for a midnight ride, we,ll find out were these deer will be before those *censored*es will" (meaning the rest of us ). Dad and Randy jumped in the old pieced together Bronco, one problem, there was only 1 seat, Randy had to sit on an old Craftsman toolbox, dad said just hang on.

Dad said he was talking to Randy, snow was falling, the old logging roads were slick and he noticed Randy wasn't talking or answering. Dad looked over and Randy was asleep, on the toolbox, leaning up against the window. Dad said HE seen about 200 or so deer moving that night, along with some pretty nice bucks. They made it back to camp, Randy was awake and went to bed. We were up in an hour or so, dad told us where HE seen a bunch of nice bucks moving through, we knew where they'd be holed up for the first couple hours of daylight before they would start moving again. Dad took Randy with him, they hiked in a few miles into a certain staging area, they sat down at an hour or so,  later out of a thicket, jitterbugging up the hill was a big 4 by 5, Dad nudges Randy, says "shoot". Randy wakes up! and says "shoot what" The buck was gone, my dad said it was one of the bucks HE seen the night before and it was a dandy. Randy never did see that buck let alone get a shot at it. Randy ended up getting his sleep disorder taken care of, he's on different therapies now along with c-pap etc, it was a bad deal but he's ok now. When we talk with him about that season he says "oh ya, I remember hearing about that buck, heard it was pretty big"

[bigmacc]

This is a hell of a buck, not our camps per say  but one ill never forget. In the Little Bellingham Camp there were friends or relatives that folks would invite over from year to year, all were sworn to secrecy of coarse and even then they weren't shown the "ace in the hole" spots . I remember being a kid when my great grandmas sister had some friends come to camp that were from Anacortes, if I remember right there was a mom, dad and a couple kids around my age at the time(12 or 13). In the later years they still camped in the same spot but were always very to themselves. They would still hit the bonfires and make the rounds etc but that was about it. The dad was a fisherman, short, stout and I remember as a kid looking at his boots/feet, they were HUGE! Anyways, he hunted one area and one area only, it was a short hike out of camp, maybe a couple miles or so but an absolute jungle, my dad always said, "if you ever shoot a deer in there, make sure you got plenty of matches, salt and pepper cause yer gonna eat him right there".

I think I was in my 20,s or so when word was flying around Little Bellingham that Bill(we'll call him) had a BIGAZZ buck down, word also got around that he didn't have any salt or pepper with him . I remember dad saying something like everybody get some rope and knives. We walked out the old skid road about 2 miles, there about 300 yards down hill in a creek bottom supposedly was bill, we couldn't see him through the jungle, if it wasn't for his buddy knowing where the buck went down hill neither would have been found to this day

Apparently Bill and his buddy had rounded a corner in the old skid road and there standing in front of them was the buck, Bill shot him at about 30 yards, the buck crashed over the bank and into the jungle, they waited after hearing what sounded like a truck driving through the jack pines, then they said it got quiet. They went after him and found him dead in the creek.

We cut that buck up into I don't know how many pieces, about 10 of us were in on the ordeal, throwing pieces over our shoulders and painfully walking them up that hill that a goat would have avoided. All the pieces made it up the hill, it was a big deer, they weighed all the pieces, I will not say the weight. The memory of this buck I will never forget was its antlers, it was a 29 point buck(eastern count ). Yep, it had 2 points on one side, the 2 points were huge, long tines and on the other side was a "mass" about the size of a softball with 27 points about an inch or so long coming out of it, looked like a pin cushion, I kid you not!

That buck was talked about for many years, not just because of its size or its antlers which was something worth talking about, it was talked about because ole Bill didn't bring his salt and pepper  . He only made it to camp a few more years and I believe passed away from a heart attack, til this day that buck and that ordeal is still talked about in camp.

[Jingles]

Nothing like BigMaccs but my memory buck involves my little brother and Tink's 69 buck lure just after it came out.
Living on a farm back in MI we could go out to the "back 40" and sit along the edge of the field between the corn and the woods.
Well we decided to go sit in a position just over the hill/ridgeline from the house and being young, dumb and full of c-m we decided that a drop or 2 on our clothes wouldn't hurt and mask the human odor. After sitting there for about 2 hours my younger brother about 5 at the time decided it was boring and wanted to head back to the house, being as we were just over the top of the hill/ridge from the house we both agreed it would be hard to get lost as he could see the house from the top of the hill, so he started for the house with me remaining where I was and could see him until he dropped over the hill. And that is where it got interesting for him as  buck must of been inspired to investigate this little human that smelled like a doe in heat. My brother said it had a huge set of horns and kept circling him and getting closer with every circle. I could not see this happening as it was one the far side of the hill/ridgeline. To this day you can not get near my brother with any kind of buck lure and that happened close to 60 years ago.
Funny now but at the time as a 5 year old probably could of been a bit on the spooky side.

[bigmacc]

Nothing like BigMaccs but my memory buck involves my little brother and Tink's 69 buck lure just after it came out.
Living on a farm back in MI we could go out to the "back 40" and sit along the edge of the field between the corn and the woods.
Well we decided to go sit in a position just over the hill/ridgeline from the house and being young, dumb and full of c-m we decided that a drop or 2 on our clothes wouldn't hurt and mask the human odor. After sitting there for about 2 hours my younger brother about 5 at the time decided it was boring and wanted to head back to the house, being as we were just over the top of the hill/ridge from the house we both agreed it would be hard to get lost as he could see the house from the top of the hill, so he started for the house with me remaining where I was and could see him until he dropped over the hill. And that is where it got interesting for him as  buck must of been inspired to investigate this little human that smelled like a doe in heat. My brother said it had a huge set of horns and kept circling him and getting closer with every circle. I could not see this happening as it was one the far side of the hill/ridgeline. To this day you can not get near my brother with any kind of buck lure and that happened close to 60 years ago.
Funny now but at the time as a 5 year old probably could of been a bit on the spooky side.