SmokyMtnHunter
FNG
- Joined
- Jan 25, 2018
- Messages
- 18
With the rut in full swing in Western North Carolina, on Dec 1, I began still hunting my way to a spot i had been trying to get to for several years. Mountain Laurel and Rhododendron surround this place and I hadn’t found a successful entry in the years prior. A couple of miles and one ridiculously steep face later and I was finally able to penetrate the thick cover. The deer sign exploded with fresh scrapes and rubs everywhere. The best way to describe the terrain is a high elevation bowl with a wide bench that cuts across the top of two spur ridges and terminates in a saddle on the main ridge. The type of spot that leaves you day dreaming while looking at it on a topo map. I found a blowdown and at 12:30 settled in for the evening. It didn’t take long and I heard grunting on the ridge above me. I was able to catch a few glimpses here and there of this buck as he bumped a group of does around for what seemed like forever. As the does began to move my direction I became hopeful that I would get a crack at my first Blue Ridge Mountain, public land Whitetail. He read the script, followed the does and stopped slightly quarter away at 70 yards. The .308 did the rest. The Lord truly blessed me that day. That’s not how it’s supposed to happen. Everyone in my neck of the woods knows these deer exist, but you rarely see them. Heck, you rarely see a deer, any deer, but the rut is a magical time and anything can happen. Packing this deer out was brutal. Period. Left me thinking that I had scratched the itch, gotten to “the spot” and took a true trophy home, and now I wouldn’t have to go back. But, a couple of Tylenol, a few days rest and now I’m ready to do it all over again!
