Free: Contests & Raffles.
The story goes like this: (I think)Well, a buddy and I had a couple beers yesterday after work, and somewhere along the way he says, "I'll bet you can't ride a deer." One thing led to another, and we set off across his field to his feeder. I climbed up into the treestand above the feeder. Thank God it's only 6 feet above the ground because I fell out twice. (Maybe it was more than a couple.) Well, along about dusk out came this little doe. She wisks right up to the feeder as quick as a wit leaving me precious little time to think. Her head's down feeding, and she's only a couple feet out from me with her butt toward me. I think, "Now or never," and bail off the treestand. Well, the trajectory of my flight was looking pretty good for about the first 18 inches or so, but a minor collision with a leg of the feeder significantly slowed my velocity to the point that I may undershoot by a little. Some wild arm flapping aided my lift well enough that I was able to land on her right about where the tail meets the hips. "So far, so good," I thought as I was just touching down. Then I quickly came to realize that leading with my nuts onto a bony surface may not have been a great idea after all. Let me tell you, doubling over onto a surprised deer is not such an easy task, but I was proud of not falling off since the pain was instantaneuos and unbearable. That is until he raised his head to contact mine. Imagine my surprise as I catch a velvet covered antler in the forehead; this was supposed to be a doe! Not having much choice at this point but to try and hold on, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and we were off. Did I mention that this deer was a little surprised? I don't know if that quite describes it or not, maybe you could better sense the sensations I felt if I said that it was like being on the business end of a bottle rocket without a stick. As we froliced through the field in what was apparently an extremely fun game for the buck, his hoof must have knocked an arrow out of my quiver. (Which I was quite proud of still possessing since it was attached to my bow which I had forgotten to let go of; maybe that's where the extra lift came from.) After roughly six weeks, or maybe a couple minutes, the details are a little fuzzy, of this rodeo I decided to try and make a graceful dismount. As luck would have it I was able to let go of his neck; however, not holding on proved to be hard on my health also. Flying through the air was the easy part, but the landing needed a little work. The doctor said a separated shoulder is nothing to worry about; all we have to do is pop it back in place. (I may have overreacted to the pain of that little bit of hell, because his secretary said he's prepaing the lawsuit now.) Upon my disembarkation from the buck's back he must have been tired because he tripped as he jumped the fence that we had cleared so well at least a dozen times a little bit ago. When he hit the ground the arrow that he'd kicked loose previously just happened to be in the right spot, and it ended up being a good double-lung shot placement: just like I'd planned it!That's the story of how I got my first buck with a bow. You'll notice in the picture that his velvet is torn a little, so that verifies the story. You don't want to see the picture with my face in it because it ain't pretty after our little meeting of the minds. Anybody that tells you velvet-covered antlers aren't hard yet is full of it! And the doctor threw me out before he could put a sling on my shoulder. It'll be ok, though: I'm tough!
