I was working with a construction crew one year when deer season came around. Three-fourths or more of the crew were hunters so monday mornings were filled with deer stories. A young man, a furriner from several states away, had never been deer hunting. Some guys at work volunteered to take him. They dropped him at a creek with a deer crossing sign. This was on the main highway a quarter mile from town. Then the other four or five guys drove another fifteen miles or so and hunted in the Tunica hills. Deep gouges by the hundreds cut into the red clay heading towards the Mississippi River. If there has been the least bit of rain climbing that raw red clay was hell!
The end of the day, the guys in the hills were tired, sore, nobody had fired a shot. Ha, one ray of sunshine, let's go pick up Joe! Joe was nowhere in sight and they had to call him. He hollered back, he needed help with a big twelve pointer. He had shot the deer bracing off of the sign. He couldn't thank the guys enough for giving him the best spot!
I have deer in my backyard. That is about as far as I am willing to chase them. Might or might not harvest one this year.
Hu