2008 Man camp opened with the usual 7 hour trip to Deep Lake in far NE Washington State. Vince and I endured hour upon hour of tall tales from Dave, who is temporarily (so he says anyways) living on the public dole. The Obama-Biden 2008 bumper sticker on his truck probably tells the true story
. Once again, Vince explained that his wife would be pleased if he didn't return with freezer meat. Talk about foreshadowing... Upon arrival at the cabin, I made the customary mistake of taking the bed in the loft. At first glance it doesn't seem like a bad choice, until the woodstove warms up... When it's warmed up to a mere 85 or so downstairs it's "two degrees less than lava" in the loft. And it doesn't help when Dave gets up at 2 am and "stokes it til it glows". Nothing like waking up lying on top of my sleeping bag, in a puddle of sweat. Pretty picture, huh? 
So anyways, the next day started fairly uneventfully, as we slept in til the crack of dawn. Now, we know that morning is the best time to ambush a deer (or so all the experts say). However, in eleven years (I think) of hunting whitetails in the area, we've only bagged one in the morning. All the rest from noon to dark... We confirmed that we still had permission to hunt some private property and set up around 3pm for the evening hunt. I saw nothing but does. Vince and Dave saw a few small bucks in a different direction sparring (actually seeing one getting knocked to the ground and getting back up to fight). After about 45 minutes with light failing, Dave put the stalk on them, across the open field but they spooked and flew across the fence and into the puckerbrush. (I can hear the deer talking about it right now... Hey dude, there's a disfigured troll coming this way... Whoa! There's something you don't see every day! 
I'm outta here!) Day two dawned wet. Now this is eastern Washington, the dry side of the state, right? Well, it poured all day. 
Once again we set up for the evening hunt. I sat in the loft of the barn with a view of the upper field and Dave to my left along the far fenceline. Soon after setting up, I saw a doe and another deer in the field some distance in front of me. One was bedded down while the doe fed. Eventually another doe came into the field. The bedded deer ( a spike) stood up and they all began feeding towards me. Since they were feeding towards me and there was plenty of light left, I waited, hoping something bigger might come into the field.Eventually, they got to within 100 yards of me and suddenly freaked and took off to the right. One doe flew over the fence and was gone, while the spike and other doe stopped, staring over towards Dave's area (found out later that two bucks had come out in front of him). Then the spike laid down again. A few minutes later, I heard a rifle shot from Dave's direction. I looked over that direction and saw a couple of deer standing around wondering what the heck that was. My spike stood up, and I decided to take it. I pressed the trigger, only to hear the proverbial loudest sound in a gunfight... "click". "Uh, I know I put a round in the chamber..." Racked that one out, put another in, and pressed... Boom! A Brown and White pile on the ground at 185 yards! Another shot from Dave, and I saw deer scattering. It was then that I made my error as I said, "I got mine." Wouldn't have been bad except Vince was there to change the intent and meaning of my innocent statement. Of course it instantly became the "it's all about me" trip. Even after I went over to help Dave look for a trail (Did I mention he missed by a wide margin? "Canadian officials are searching for the source of two artillery rounds which struck a church steeple in downtown Kamploops this evening...") Sure, it wasn't his fault, it was the new gizmo on his scope... Whatever Dave... As I walked over to check my deer, Vince was already there and says to me, "I thought you said you shot the spike?" I did... "Uh, you shot the doe..." What? "It's ok man, it's camp meat..." A couple of seconds ( and a foul word or two) later I saw the antlers. I shall not forgive him anytime soon. Anyways, I got mine!
Vince ( the cold blooded one)did a fine job of frying up my deer heart for dinner. By the way, I'd be happy to help anyone with disposal of elk or deer heart they might have lying around!
So, the next morning we got Dave's scope dialed in while Vince torched piles of garbage, processed wood products, and endangered wolf carcasses on his property...(hope the Ecology Department and Fish and Game don't hear about that Vince!) It was only off about three feet high at 20 yards. I still don't know how he missed at 60 yards! Nothing much happened that day after that. Sure we went hunting, but nothing eventful happened. Oh wait, my camera fell out of the truck and no longer works. Yea! So, not many photos from the rest of the trip.... Oh, and then there was the "Sleepy Vince" incident in the middle of the field... Thursday at about noon, it started snowing. We set up again, and as luck would have it, a suicidal 1X2 buck stepped in front of Dave. Dave managed to put it down at about a yard with the butt of his rifle... Ok, really about 185 yards. He was actually aiming at a fawn about 10 yards away, missed, and the stray round struck this poor bastard in the ass. Died of blood loss from a punctured hemorrhoid...Hey, wait a second, where's Dave's blaze orange?
Boy, it'd be a shame if Fish & Game saw that, huh? Ya, I know, you took it off before the photo... Whatever... Oh yeah, that loud "click"? A light primer strike... weird.Can you tell we had a good time?
