PA -2021 - 12/04/21
We had a great opener last Saturday in NW PA.
There was plenty of fresh snow, it wasn't so cold it got crunchy and never got warm enough to get slushy. Snow fell steadily off and on through Monday. My nephew and I hunted a tower stand that my brother and I built a few years ago. We got in just before daylight and deer we're moving almost as soon as we settled into our swivel chairs. This was my nephew's second year at camp and he was hoping to get his first buck. He was hunting on a junior license and thus wasn't subjected to antler restrictions. After passing up a little doe and a pencil thick fork horn, he shot his first buck at 7:45am right in front of the stand as it wove it's way through understory. I watched the bullet impact through my binoculars. It jumped and kicked its hind legs before running 100 yards—appearing to go down behind a patch of little beech trees. Then, while we were giving it a few minutes and just as we were getting ready to come down from the tower stand, an 8 skipped in. I literally had one foot out the door when I realized I'd forgot to grab a drag rope out of my pack. This second buck flanked us on a course toward a main trail running up the hill directly behind the stand. He stopped right at the edge of the trail with only his nose sticking out. I shot him in a trot, quartering away, off hand out of the open door as he crossed the trail. He dropped like a sack of bricks, which was a good thing, as we ended up tracking my nephews for a couple miles around and over the mountain until he finally got a finishing shot at 11am. It was a great morning. I hadn't even had time to put on my down booties. lol
![[Linked Image from i.postimg.cc]](https://i.postimg.cc/gJsWY21T/E45-E14-F1-E284-4-FBA-ABBA-F1-FF3-FBFAC59.jpg)
![[Linked Image from i.postimg.cc]](https://i.postimg.cc/gJmpFZth/6-B84-EE05-309-C-485-B-92-D1-DAC7760-FD772.jpg)
There was plenty of fresh snow, it wasn't so cold it got crunchy and never got warm enough to get slushy. Snow fell steadily off and on through Monday. My nephew and I hunted a tower stand that my brother and I built a few years ago. We got in just before daylight and deer we're moving almost as soon as we settled into our swivel chairs. This was my nephew's second year at camp and he was hoping to get his first buck. He was hunting on a junior license and thus wasn't subjected to antler restrictions. After passing up a little doe and a pencil thick fork horn, he shot his first buck at 7:45am right in front of the stand as it wove it's way through understory. I watched the bullet impact through my binoculars. It jumped and kicked its hind legs before running 100 yards—appearing to go down behind a patch of little beech trees. Then, while we were giving it a few minutes and just as we were getting ready to come down from the tower stand, an 8 skipped in. I literally had one foot out the door when I realized I'd forgot to grab a drag rope out of my pack. This second buck flanked us on a course toward a main trail running up the hill directly behind the stand. He stopped right at the edge of the trail with only his nose sticking out. I shot him in a trot, quartering away, off hand out of the open door as he crossed the trail. He dropped like a sack of bricks, which was a good thing, as we ended up tracking my nephews for a couple miles around and over the mountain until he finally got a finishing shot at 11am. It was a great morning. I hadn't even had time to put on my down booties. lol