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Deer hunting in the " Old Days "
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<blockquote data-quote="Rancocas" data-source="post: 5244269" data-attributes="member: 2871"><p>My first deer hunt was in 1960. I was 12 years old and had been hunting small game with the adults since I was 10. I wasn't allowed on a deer hunt until I turned 12. </p><p>It was in southern New Jersey, where I was born and raised. Pine forest, blueberry fields, and cranberry marshes covered much of the land of south Jersey back in those days. Deer were awful scarce, though.</p><p></p><p>My Dad posted me at a spot where I could watch a short section of open bog between two thickly wooded islands in the large, spreading commercial cranberry farm. The only legal firearm for deer in that place and time was a shotgun and buckshot. No slugs. I carried my Ithaca double barrel 12 gauge that I had just received for my birthday back in July. Both barrels were loaded with paper hulled OO buck shot.</p><p></p><p>Dad and my uncles went on to push through one of those wooded islands, hopefully to drive a buck into crossing that open ground that I was posted to watch.</p><p></p><p>They did! I heard a stick crack, and some thumping noises, then a doe broke out of the underbrush and dashed across the shallow cranberry bog, splashing water as she ran. She was followed by another doe, and then - there he was! I saw the antlers high above his head. A buck!</p><p></p><p>The buck galloped through the marsh, splashing water, as it ran full speed following the does. My eyes were big as saucers and my mouth hung open in awl. But, I quickly raised my shotgun and fired. And, fired again.</p><p></p><p>A clean miss. I had shot behind the running deer.</p><p></p><p>I didn't get my first deer until sometime in the late 1960's. I was hunting in Pennsylvania then with my uncle Frank.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Rancocas, post: 5244269, member: 2871"] My first deer hunt was in 1960. I was 12 years old and had been hunting small game with the adults since I was 10. I wasn't allowed on a deer hunt until I turned 12. It was in southern New Jersey, where I was born and raised. Pine forest, blueberry fields, and cranberry marshes covered much of the land of south Jersey back in those days. Deer were awful scarce, though. My Dad posted me at a spot where I could watch a short section of open bog between two thickly wooded islands in the large, spreading commercial cranberry farm. The only legal firearm for deer in that place and time was a shotgun and buckshot. No slugs. I carried my Ithaca double barrel 12 gauge that I had just received for my birthday back in July. Both barrels were loaded with paper hulled OO buck shot. Dad and my uncles went on to push through one of those wooded islands, hopefully to drive a buck into crossing that open ground that I was posted to watch. They did! I heard a stick crack, and some thumping noises, then a doe broke out of the underbrush and dashed across the shallow cranberry bog, splashing water as she ran. She was followed by another doe, and then - there he was! I saw the antlers high above his head. A buck! The buck galloped through the marsh, splashing water, as it ran full speed following the does. My eyes were big as saucers and my mouth hung open in awl. But, I quickly raised my shotgun and fired. And, fired again. A clean miss. I had shot behind the running deer. I didn't get my first deer until sometime in the late 1960's. I was hunting in Pennsylvania then with my uncle Frank. [/QUOTE]
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