Great story with terrific ending!
On the subject of fletching color. Way back in 1974 I was on a January bow hunt in Alabama with my college room mate. Deep in the Cahaba State Forest. Waded the river every morning in the dark (waist deep) to get to where I wanted to hunt. IN those early days I thought the harder I worked the more "luck" I would have. (It took me more than a decade to learn that smarter trumps harder.)
I had a hip quiver and was carrying a Bear B-Mag, 60" recurve at 50#. My arrows had mostly white feathers. As I was walking to my stand one afternoon I spied a couple of hounds 50-60 yards away. I shook the quiver of arrows at the dogs. They started towards me. Uh, oh. I figured they might have thought I was a deer twitching its flag (tail). I didn't let them get too close before running them off. I wasn't afraid of the dogs, but I didn't want them coming nearer, especially if someone was with them.
Topic: A huntin story ... Now next chapter (Read 2056 times)
