hogpatrol
Gold $$ Contributor
I remember my first deer. It was on top of a mountain in central PA. I was hunting with my father who was one saddle over. He heard me shoot, came over and being clueless on the gut job, took out his Barlow and did it for me. It was laying in some rocks, he tied a rope around it's neck. I grabbed the rope and started to pull. It didn't move. I said to my dad, "He's stuck". He chuckled and replied "He ain't stuck. He's heavy". It was my first introduction to dragging dead weight. Thankfully, it was mostly all downhill. I think it took me over an hour to get it back to the cabin. I slept good that night. Yeah, it rode home on the fender too. 












