Tuesday, November 11, 2008

The Suicide Buck

Mark and I had left our property in Yalobusha County just as the sun went down. We had checked it out for recent deer sign and to see if the fields were coming up. It really looked good, and we headed back to Water Valley down the dark country roads.
Mark was driving, he is a Professional driver. We made it to the main highway and were zipping along pulling the trailer that carried the Gator when it happened.
The big buck bailed off the embankment and charged the truck in a suicide attack. His big antlers were lowered as he attempted to ram us off the road with his vicious attack. Mark responded like a true Memphis driver. He put his hands over his eyes and screamed for his Momma.
Riding shotgun, I had seen the jihadist deer racing across the road at us like a missle. Clear-headed and cool, I expertly moved the wheel to avoid the attacking buck. We skittered along the edge of the highway and certain death as I held until the last second, then whipped us back into the road. I think Mark had passed out from fear but luckily I had faced these kind of assaults before. The trailer snapped back into the road as the deer barely missed the truck, but he did not miss the trailer. Wham! The fender crumpled and sparks flew as I fought the truck to a standstill. The big 10-point was dead. His suicide attack had failed to stop us for now.
Luckily someone came along that wanted the big buck and we made it back home. I hate that the big deer died this way, but better him than me.


mailrider said...

Hands over my eyes??I was tring to jump in the back seat!!

bushman said...


Blessed said...

I hate it when deer die that way too, but at least someone came by who wanted him and at least you guys weren't hurt!

deerslayer said...

My God that sounds more like you was here in Tennessee except for here we run off the road to get the deer instead of the deer coming for us. Our shotgun partner is usually hanging out the truck window with a bowie knife trying to cut the deers throat once we get close enough. Now you know the secret to why they call me Deerslayer and how to drive if you ever make it to Tennessee.