About 35 years ago when I was a teenager, two of my dads friends, both named Steve, took me deer hunting. Steve H was a piece of work. We heard him shoot twice. He said a bunch of does came out. He shot one and “they all ran around “. He shot at what he thought was the same one and “they all ran off”. We found two blood trails crossing the road 20 yards apart. 100 yards into the woods on the other side of the road, we all three walk up on two bedded does, like to within 10 yards and they are just laying there looking around. Weird. The Steves assume they are both wounded (but they look fine) and they send me back to the truck to get a rifle.
When I got back after 10-15 minutes, only Steve B is there and he’s shaking his head. He says that one of the deer got up and walked straight at them. Steve H asked Steve B for his knife, which was a custom fixed blade with about a 6 inch blade. The deer walks up to within inches of Steve H then turns and takes one bound, then starts slowly walking away. Steve H runs up behind the deer and plunges the knife in its back. The deer takes off dragging Steve H. Steve B says they tore through the woods and out of hearing about 10 minutes ago. We yell for Steve H but no response. After 10 more minutes we hear a pitiful wail a ways off. We start making our way in that direction and eventually walk up on a helluva scene. There is a 10 foot diameter circle of nothing but blood everywhere. The deer is dead with its throat slit and a gruesome cut down its back from chest to hips, with all its guts hanging out and some intestines caught on bushes yards away. Steve H is on his back wheezing and so out of breath he can’t talk. His camo tshirt is pushed up like a halter top and stuffed with leaves. His pants are full of leaves and debris from being dragged through the the woods. His big white beer belly is gleaming in the moonlight, his belly and chest bruised and beat to shit by hooves. The custom knife is laying by his side, and by god he was not gonna let that deer run off with the knife in its back.
We never saw the other deer again and no bullet wound in this deer could we find.
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