Walmart Photo Shop Turns in Deer Hunter

Press Republican ^ | 11/24/02 | Dennis Aprill

[Intimidator]

I do not personally think that I would like to hunt deer with dogs

You gotta try it man, its great fun. I'm a still hunter too but I enjoy the dogs alot more. You would think it would be easy but hitting the dang deer when its running 50 mph with its hair on fire is alot easier said than done even with buckshot.

[Skooz]

I suppose sneaking up to within 300 yards on the prairie is more difficult than hunting the thick woods and thickets where you have to get close to even see them and where they can smell you alot easier huh?.

Uh, yeah. Not even close. Sitting on your butt all day ain't hunting. Deal with it.

[Intimidator]

And I help him eat the venison

Thats because you're not killing anything, bwaaaahaaaaaaaaaaaa. Get you a deer stand and go hunting man, you'll enjoy it, better yet come to NC and run the dogs, its even more fun.

[oldvike]

Deer season here in Kentucky lasted 16 days this year. Of that period, I spent 7 days hunting and never fired a shot. I saw about 60 deer. Of those 60 deer, I could have taken a reasonable shot at about 40 (within 200 yards going no faster than a trot). Of those 40 deer, only 3 came within this 30 yard range you speak of. Of those 3, none were worth shooting (two 4 pointers and a doe). My entire time in the woods and fields resulted in me seeing only 2 deer worth shooting...unfortunately, one was too far away to shoot and the other was obstructed by trees and lack of daylight.

I guess if you're only after a doe or a runt buck, then it's pretty easy, but the only people I know that hunt for them are little kids and lazy hunters. I'm after trophies, not runts. Not only did I not fire a shot at a buck this year, but it's been 3 since my last buck kill.

I'm sorry, but IMHO deer hunting (for large buck) is not easy. If you're hunting for doe, then it's not near as hard.

P.S.- during muzzle loading season in December we'll probably take a few does in order to thin the herd.

[Skooz]

I have hunted many many times. Sitting in a deer stand is not hunting, no matter how many times you post "bwaaaahaaaaaaaaaaaa."

But, let's just agree to disagree, okay?

[Outlaw76]

It’s morning, kinda. The Sun isn’t even peeking up over the horizon. Only the lighter blue to the east shows the coming of a new day. I’m sleepy, but excited all the same.

I get out of my bed roll (I call it a sleeping bag when I’m camping.) and put on my long john’s and wool socks. I brush my teeth and chew on some mint, the real stuff not candy, the smell of it helps get me ready. My stomach is rumbling so I eat a couple of pieces of bread and drink a small glass of water. I’m into my hunting clothes and bright orange vest quickly.

I smile at my son who’s grinning at me ear to ear. We sit down and check our guns, loaded? Safe? Yep, ready to go. We spoke about our strategy the night before, but we go over it again for safety’s sake. He has the ridgeline heading east over looking the creek, I have the valley and the opposite hill. We know the area, we know each other, and we hope we know the deer well enough. If everything works right I get the first shot, they will run right to him afterward. If I make noise, they will run to him. If he makes noise they will sit still or run to me.

I look east, the sun will be up soon, time to head out. I mess up the boy’s hair before he puts his cap on. Outside it’s cold and damp. With almost no wind and good visibility, its great weather. I ask the deer to help feed my family and me. I don’t know if it helps or not, but I heard the Native American’s did that before a hunt and it just feels right to me.

I nod to my boy and smile, it’s time to hunt! I try to be silent, and imagine I am not visible. I step softly and move no more than four steps at a time. I alter the rhythm of the steps so that it sounds more like squirrels than a man. Opening myself to every sound and smell I loose track of time.

I hear a cruch, pat pat pat on the ground. Squirel. Off to my right I hear a grunt. I’m smiling now because the scouting I had done the day before was paying off. I step lightly on the rocks crossing the creek able to move a little faster now. Moving up the hill I keep my eyes on the valley, they are down there somewhere. I catch the briefest flicker of white about forty yards away down in the valley as I gently step over the briar patch. I think they know I’m here now.

Time doesn’t matter as I move through the woods, the deer aren’t far from me, I can just feel that. They should be moving east toward my son, there is a pond they drink at that lies beyond him a ways. The signs there were fresh the day before. I’m coming up on a rocky outcropping that overlooks a small clearing. Signs show they walk on the southern edge of that clearing, sometimes stopping to nibble but never for long.

The first doe crosses. I don’t know how they elect the one to go first, maybe they just don’t like her. Then another, young one, the mother follows close behind. A young spike, head low walks up and raises his head, ears to the sky. I stop staring at him, I look over his shoulders and slightly beyond him. I know he’s feeling me staring at him. He moves more quickly now, not a run, not a hop, just a wary walk. A couple of seconds pass, but I know the old man of the crowd is behind them. Nope, its a doe, a big doe. That old girl is probably momma and grandma to the others. She knows something is wrong. She scratches the ground and makes coughing noise, a kind of bark and bounds out of sight. I don’t get a good look at the next two, moving too fast. I hadn’t noticed the breeze shift any, but they must have smelt me. My son should be in front of them moving to his ‘spot’ a nice place under a cedar tree that gives him a good view the valley and both hills.

I’m in a piney area myself now and can move much more freely on pine needles. I’m in no hurry, but I know the game is near and my heart is pounding. My spot lies ahead; I have a good view of the creek bed and the opposite hill. I get into position and look for my son. I see the tree and the orange of his vest. He’s been quiet and I am proud of that.

We must have done something right, the first doe steps into view without a care in the world. (Now I know why they don’t like her, she’s noisy.) Then the others follow. Conditions must be perfect; they don’t seem to be too agitated. The buck is pretty good size, through my scope I count somewhere between four and eight points. Still not in good range for me. Patience isn’t normally one of my son’s strong points, a virtue that eludes him most of the time, today is different though he’s hunting.

The deer move closer to me, so far oblivious to the fact we are here. The buck, he’s pretty canny, I still don’t have a good line on him. He’s in range for both my son and I. I’m guessing my son is being nice and letting me get the kill only I can’t get a shot.

Then I hear it, the whistle some folks make at ball games. Ear drum piercing high pitched blast of noise. Calmly as can be the buck turns and looks strait up the hill at my son and the barrel of his 30-30. It was a good shot, right in the middle of the chest. He gets to dress it. I thank the deer and let out a lout ‘Whoop!’ for my boy.

Many years from now we will still tell that story. Oh, the six-er-eight! points may grow 12 or more and the deer may eventually walk right up to him as it’s re-told over the years, but that’s all part of it, that’s hunting.

[Skooz]

Sounds like you're a hunter, not a butt-sitter.

[Skooz]

My most precious memories as a child were going hunting with my dad in North Dakota. Getting up long before dawn, putting on about 67 layers of clothing, sipping coffee and hitting the road to find just the right spot.

My dad taught me how to hunt, and how to hunt with class and sport. He showed me everything I ever needed to learn about sportmanship and how to handle a rifle and shotgun. He also taught me respect for the land and other hunters.

My dad died two months ago, and I have found myself thinking back to those cold days of my childhood, trudging through the snow in search of game. Just the two of us acting as a team. I will remember that until the day I die.

[oldvike]

I'd like to think that me and the crew I hunt with do the right things.

[philetus]

Parents' lessons to children became secondary to the indoctrination of the state, and any parent who stood up and said it was wrong came under suspicion.
Germany 1939

The concept that the state should control the development of children arguably began with Plato, who made the government of his totalitarian "republic" the custodian of "its" children. The Jacobin government of revolutionary France, which sought to create a totalitarian "republic,, systematically subverted family connections. Bertrand Barere, a member of the revolutionary Committee on Public Safety, taught that the "principles that ought to guide parents are that children belong to the general family, to the republic, before they belong to particular families ... the spirit of private families must disappear when the great family calls .... You are born for the republic and not for the pride and despotism of families."

[Wallace T.]

Don't shed any tears for Kodak. That company recently fired a long-time employee who objected to its corporate diversity policy, which propagated acceptance of various types of sexual perverts. Kodak may be headquartered in America, but it is an un-American company. Better to deal with the Japanese than homegrown fans of perversion.

[NCnodeLOGICBOMB]

A week before 9/11, a friend of mine was in New York with his family. They did all the tourist things and he took quite a few pictures. A few days after the terrorist attacks he took his film to WalMart to be developed and picked the photos up the next day. The clerk complimented several shots that he had taken of the WTC. My friend thanked him and had a few blown up to 8x10 for framing.

Several days later he was in the same Walmart and what did he see? A display with 8x10s of HIS photo for sale. As you can imagine, they had sold quite a few.

There is no way that this occurred without the managers approval, who offered a few copies of the photo as compensation. What a joke.

After complaining up the ladder to the district level, WalMart wrote him a check to make it go away.

[Wondervixen]

Okay everybody, on three...

ONE

TWO

THREE

DOH!!!

[Sniffers]

"It's a world record. The bear had killed a couple of other people and was being hunted by other forest service and Game personnel. Of course, the Game department did not let him keep it."

Actually, I have a copy of the article from the Anchorage Daily News on this big Alaskan Brown Bear kill. It is not a world record, which makes you realize how big the real record bear must have been. Also, the rest of your captioned post above is not correct. It had not killed anyone, and the hunter had a valid brown bear tag - although he went to the island hunting for deer.

The bear was killed on Hinchenbrook Island in Prince William Sound. I used to fly out there with a buddy and fish for coho salmon - without any gun. Never realized that there were bears on this particular island, let alone this bruiser. If I had realized this, I would have taken a much bigger gun than a 7mm mag!!

[glc1173@aol.com]

Buy a digicam - and avoid these kind of hassles due to the overactive imaginations of underpaid clerks.

[BraveMan]

Thanks for the clarification.

I'm happy to say the bears around my haunts up nort' simply can't compare to that. I look at those pictures and think of all the times I backpacked around Miner's Castle and the Pictured Rocks when I was younger, it never occurring to me I might end up as some Brown bear's Scooby Snack.