The month of November was eventful with the arrival of hunting season and the Thanksgiving holiday. But even more cause for celebration was the arrival of our third grandchild. Madelynn Quin McCartney made her appearance on November 7th at 2:33 pm. She weighed 9 lbs-6 oz and was 21 inches long. Mother and baby are doing well. Needless to say, much of the first week of November was spent shuttling between Winchester Medical Center and home.
Let’s stay in the hunting mode for this month’s article. Not much for me to report this year, but I did let a perfectly good 4-point buck walk away. Sometimes I wonder why I continue to make the effort. Maybe an article for another day.
So, let’s travel in the way-back-machine to the late ‘60’s or early ‘70’s for this hunting story. That was when I first started hunting seriously and Rockingham County was one of the top deer harvest counties in the state. National Forest land in Lairs Run was a popular place to hunt. The rutted, rocky road into the big hollow was lined with hunting camps. Unfortunately, there is no public access today.
If you owned a 4×4 with good ground clearance, you could navigate the last steep, rocky stream crossings in Camp Hollow and drive to the fields on top of Little Mountain. We didn’t have a 4×4, but if you drove slowly and very carefully you could make to that last stream crossing in a car. There was just enough room to pull off the road at an unnamed hollow leading up to Whetzel Knob. My mode of transportation back then was a ’64 Chevelle.
I had graduated from a shotgun with slugs and was carrying a Winchester Model 100, .308 cal., semi-automatic rifle and had a tendency to empty the 5-shot clip. It was my first deer hunting rifle. My dad gave it to me when I was a teenager. It came with a story about bagging a huge mule deer in Nevada that almost won him a Cadillac in a big buck contest in Las Vegas.
Properly armed we would walk into the hollow before daylight and go our separate ways. I would usually climb the ridge to the left and drop into Lairs Run. One hollow in particular we called “the bowel”. Just under the top of the ridge a big hollow formed a ledge and spread out like a bowel. Hence the name. This was my favorite spot to hunt.
One morning I made my trek to the “bowel”, and sat freezing to death, as usual, on my stand. I didn’t own any decent cold weather gear back then. Suddenly I heard something coming ln the leaves and a herd of deer made their way across the hollow below me. And I mean a herd! There must have been at least 15 deer slowly making their way through the trees and laurel. I started scoping heads hoping to see an antler. I had only tagged spike bucks prior to then, so any legal buck was a prize. To my surprise along with a few spike bucks I saw a racked buck in the mix. I quelled my excitement, found an open spot in the laurel and pulled the trigger.
The buck disappeared at the shot. I eased down the ridge but too my great disappointment there was no blood or scuffle in the leaves to indicate a hit! I trudged back to my stand to get my bearings. I’ve since learned to mark the spot where the deer was standing and go directly to it after the shot. Finally, after making several passes in the leaves, I found a blood trail that led to young 6 pt buck. Not a wall hanger but I was tickled to death. A quick celebration was in order.
After field dressing the deer, the drag up the steep ridge was a challenge. With many stops to rest, I made it over the top and down the other side. The drag the rest of the way out was easier because it was all downhill and I had help. We stuffed the 6 pt into the trunk of the Chevelle and headed for the checking station at Macs Superette. A good day!!
The year has gone so fast! It’s hard to believe this is the December issue of the Chronicle. I hope you have a very Merry Christmas and a blessed New Year!!
R.D. Cullers
Graduate of Bergton Elementary (Class of ’65)
