Illinois 1978:
I shoot this big whitetail down in a s#it hole. It's Illinois; a road every mile but there's a fence every 100 yards. I'm by myself and getting the buck over the fences is nearly impossible. It's the Midwest for crying out loud. It's against the rules to take a whitetail deer out in pieces. So I tie a rope around each hind leg and drag the big guy thru briars and brush. At each fence crossing I have to drag the beast over to a tree, throw a rope over a limb and "hoist" the whole deer over the fence. It's crazy.
I made it over the last fence and I'm draggin' the animal thru a picked cornfield, 400 yards to go to the road. I'm give out and the big rack is getting hung up on the corn stalks. I just don't know if I'm gonna make it. A guy comes down the road, stops, parks his Subaru, and comes out to help. It's Francis Wachtel, a guy I went to high school with for 5 years.
"Hi Goober, long time no see.....Uh....I couldn't help but notice you're dragging the deer the wrong way. Here, let me help ya" Francis said.
"Really? Draggin' it the wrong way? You may be right. Boy am I glad to see you. Can you give me a hand?" I asked.
"No problem." he replied.
So we turned around, grabbed the rope, and drug the deer back into the woods.
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