THE CATNAP BUCK

If you think my friend Don Christensen hung up his rifle after helping Ralph shoot the “Blind Man’s Buck,” think again. Hunting on his property in Spooner, Wisconsin, Don received a dose of good luck from an unlikely source.

Here’s the story in Don’s own words:

It had been a slow four days of hunting. My daughter Beth and I had only seen two small does and a pair of spikes. I wanted to hunt on Nov 21, the day before Thanksgiving, and figured something would show up because Beth decided to take the evening off to start Thanksgiving prep. Seems there is always a day or two during season when she has something else to do, and that's always when I have opportunities.

I had been sitting for an hour in a blind 100 yards behind my house when our cat—a jet-black female named Bob (because of her short ears)—felt she needed to come out in the woods and hang out by my stand. I have no idea why she does this. I've never even petted her, but she inevitably shows up and scratches at the door of the shooting house. I wasn't in my elevated shooting house this time so she jumped right up on the windowsill. I whispered a few obscenities to her and she, being a cat, jumped onto my rifle rest and burrowed down in the blanket on my lap and went to sleep. I figured things would get pretty intense if I surprised her with a shot during the evening, but being quadriplegic, there wasn't much I could do.

Bob performs double duty as lapwarmer and good-luck charm.

Not long after that, a buck stepped onto the food plot about 100 yards from me. My rifle rest would only turn about half the necessary distance to get my sights on the deer, so I needed to turn the chair quite a ways. By the time I realized that, he was only about 80 yards away, standing in the oats.

I turned and my wheelchair made a loud click. He froze broadside, looking in my direction, but I had turned just far enough where I could do the finer aiming adjustments with the joystick on my rest. Thankfully he stood still for the couple of seconds that took. A little squeeze on my bite trigger and BOOM went my .243.

The shot seemed to have no effect on the buck and he trotted off to the right out of view. You know, that cat never even moved until I started shaking after the shot as the adrenaline left my system. Reminds me, I've got to bring her out some turkey from dinner. Don't get me wrong and assume I like that cat but she did stay quiet when I needed her to.

I knew the shot felt perfect, so the buck wouldn't go far. I gave my son Riley a call and he came out to recover the deer. I couldn't figure out what was going on because there was no blood, no hair, absolutely no sign of a hit. My whole family, my caregiver, and the neighbor searched the area but there was absolutely no sign of any kind. We decided to let him be till morning, then start really working the woods. The morning search didn't go any better, so I was totally confused. Riley set up a target back in the woods and I took a shot to check the scope. Perfect shot… I knew I did not miss.

One more look by Riley did the trick. The 8-point buck had trotted about 80 yards before piling up on the backside of our pond. Never a drop of blood…it was a complete pass through right behind the shoulder and the Hornaday BTSP never expanded!

Anyway, he's in the cooler and now it's up to Beth to tip over the big one. We'll be out again this afternoon!