3 replies to this topic

[OkieOutlaw]

The Legend Lives

Several years ago my wife and I had the chance to purchase a small farm here in southern Oklahoma. As we had rented a house in the area years before as honeymooners we did not hesitate at all in buying the farm. We had always been extremely happy here as I did farm work for local farmers and eventually went to work for the state when they started claiming land all along the north bank of the Red River supposedly for flood control. Needless to say my employer was not too popular amoung the many farmers that suddenly were losing acreage that fell bellow a pre determined elevation. I worked to help building the many miles of governement fence that would soon become a 8,000 plus acre Wildlife Management Area. The years passed and I moved from job to job mainly in the construction and truck driving industries.
As we slowly built up our little farm I got to know all the local farmers and even got re-acquainted with several of the old timers from our previous years in the valley. Most knew me as a quiet and good neighbor that was willing to help them with any type of farm work, and that I loved to hunt and fish along the Red River. They soon realized that I was an avid coyote hunter, and was also an excellent shot with a rifle although most never knew how I had acquired my ability. As the years passed I would routinely hang the dead coyotes on fenceposts near where they were killed mainly to ward off other coyotes. This practice earned me quite a reputation as a varmint hunter, and soon farmers were contacting me to help out with their coyote problems especially during calving season.
Now that I have given you a little back ground information I can begin with the original story. Earlier this year I was contacted by Mr. Bond a very nice older gentleman that my wife and I had known for years asking me to help him out with a pack of coyotes that had moved onto his place and was decimating his calves and harassing his nursing cows. I agreed to do what I could about his problem and was granted rights to coyote hunt his property. I quickly located not one, but two very distinct packs of coyotes and began to thin them out. As the dead coyotes started to mount on the fencelines the old gentleman and I began to talk more and more.
He would now be sitting out on his porch almost every day and would flag me down as I was leaving the property. We would generally just sit and talk sometimes until well after dark. One day as we were sitting there he suddenly asked me why I had never asked to deer hunt on his property as he knew from prior conversations that I loved to hunt them. I told him that I knew his grandsons hunted the property and that I always jsut hunted the game refuge as most locals called it now. He asked if I knew about The Legend, and I admitted that I did as many of the locals knew him very well.
The Legend as he had become known as was a huge racked deer that seemed to grow miracoulously as the stories spread about amoung all the locals. He was said to have survived so many hunting seasons that he knew precisely when each season beagn and ended. He was said to be able to outsmart any hunter that ever lived and would one day just die of old age.
Well Mr. Bond told me he knew the deer and that he knew where the deer disappeared to every season, and wanted to know if I wanted to hunt him. I had personally seen the deer on two different occasions always on private land directly adjoining the game refuge, and that I didn't have permission to hunt. I hunted the deer for two years on the refuge during the gun and muzzle loader season, but never with any success.
Mr. Bond showed me where he went and that he came there every year. I carefully scouted the area and decided on two stand locations for the coming archery season as I had recieved a new crossbow for Christmas the previous year. My favorite stand was an old deadfall oak tree that had been struck by lightening and was perfect for a ground blind with all the dead branches and leaves haging all around. I would only hunt this area during the gun season and only if the wind conditions were perfect so as not to alert him to my wife and my presence.
We had creeped into our blind at around two thirty that afternoon little expecting to see what we would see. Not long after getting all set up I noticed the largest rack I had ever seen directly behind another large deadfall not fifteen yards from us. I also noticed the shadow of a does head on a tree right beside him. I alerted my wife and as she first saw him exclaimed He's huge. I too was mesmerized as he majestically stepped from behind his cover broadside at 15 yards looking directly into the blind as though he knew exactly what it was. I was suddenly hit with buck fever so bad I could not turn on my Simmons three dot sight and just sat there totally dumbfounded. The doe moved off to the side of the tree and as he turned to follow her he stepped around the deadfall and was now standing with the other side of that amazing rack plainly visible again at no more than fifteen yards, but still I could not regain my composure enough to even level my bow at him as he slowly followed to doe away. After he had left all my wife and I could do was look at each other in amazement.
Well the days passed and we never saw him again and moved on to other locations to eventually harvest our deer for the season. One day as I was in town I learned that Mr. Bond had passed away in his sleep and I dutifully went to his funeral. I was extremely sad to have lost such a dear friend, but knew in my heart that he was at peace.
A few days later I was taking one of my hog hunters to one of my stands on the refuge when he turned to me and asked.
"Ya'll got any good deer around here?" As I turned my head to look out the window on my side of the truck a huge smile came over my face and a tear welled up in my eye as there he stood in all his glory in the corner of Mr. Bonds pasture, and I couldn't help but think "The Legend Lives On". I never did answer his question.

[mopar1969]

Great story Okie, thanks for sharing!

[U.P. Hunter]

Great post! Thanks for that.

[OkieOutlaw]

Thank You. This story was actually written as a tribute a few days after the original hunt.
The deer was killed by a poacher and all they bothered to take was his head. We have a huge problem of road hunters in this area and unfortunatley this deer became a victim of their unsportsman like conduct.