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Post by joen on Apr 11, 2009 23:14:46 GMT -5
I was shootin my bow out back today when I saw the little critter out there. I put my bow up and get out my Rem. 700 in .243 a chair and a tall glass of ice tea and before my tea was gone that hole diggin ba$%#@$ showed up at 105 yards and he is still there.  |
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Post by Decatur on Apr 11, 2009 23:39:55 GMT -5
You don't eat them?
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Post by jrbhunter on Apr 12, 2009 1:38:15 GMT -5
I remember it like yesterday: I was probably around 10 years old, home for the summer, dad had got home from the early shift and was working on our boat in the garage. He was hot and tired and frustrated: told me to go weedeat the back yard and I didn't argue. Arguing generally resulted in a venimous leather belt. Before I could get the weedeater cranked I spotted a little brown furball next to our woodpile way in the back. I hunkered down and recognized the chubby little figure. After a short stalk and a few close calls: I got past dad and made it to my bow (silent approach). Slipping out the back door, I approached the shadow-box fence that seperated our driveway from the back yard. After careful consideration, I opted to slip down the North side of the fence.... in plain site of the groundhog... because itwas just a groundhog and nobody enjoys an asswhoopin'. Slowly but surely I slipped closer and closer: using clothes on the line and the woodpile to cover my approach. As I inched within range (15yards) I drew my bow and took aim. The arrow flew and hit him right in the brisket. As quickly as he went down, I shot up in excitement. I rushed over to him, put my foot on his head and exhaled in accomplishment.... only to see my dad standing on the hill with his hands on his hips. I believe I set a land speed weed-eating record that afternoon. But when I was done, he took my picture with the trophy.  |
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Post by joen on Apr 13, 2009 7:26:23 GMT -5
I got me another bean eatin woodchuck yesterday. 223 yards and it made the farmer that I deer hunt on happy.
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