Buck Fever Read Free

about fifty yards to another blind. Will let you know if I move.”
    “Okay, but it’s already four o’clock. We need to be out of here by five,” Montagno said.
    “Yeah, maybe I should go over there now. Will let you know when I get there.”
    Click, click, Montagno acknowledged.
    ~ ~ ~
    Hermanski picked up his gun propped next to an oak tree and headed east. As he approached another blind, he looked up, seeing a tree perch 20 feet up strapped around a foot-wide oak tree.
    Locals, he thought. Been here too.
    “What the...” he blurted and clicked his walkie-talkie. “Guys, you’re not going to believe this. I just found a half-gutted buck with an arrow sticking in its neck next to a tree with a hunter’s perch strapped to it. An eight-pointer no less and it looks like a fresh kill from yesterday. It’s been cold out so the meat should still be good.”
    “I’ll bet it’s some moron without a license. He probably got spooked by someone coming through the woods and left it,” Lacarter said.
    “You know, I have half a mind to claim it and take it with us. I’m so pissed at these guys getting all this meat on the cheap. What do you think?” Hermanski said.
    “We’re with you. We have to go soon anyway. Might as well bag a dead one as a live one,” Montagno said. “We’re heading over to help. Guide us in.”
    ~ ~ ~
    The three men stood over the fallen buck.
    “Hmm, nice kill to the neck. Let’s get the arrow out, clean out the rest of the insides and drag it out,” Lacarter suggested.
    “Sounds like a plan,” Hermanski said, removing a knife from the strapped sheath on his left leg.
    “You’ll get goo shit all over your hands; use these. Here, take this knife; your diddly knife isn’t cutting through that hide,” Lacarter said, offering Hermanski a pair of rubber gloves and a large stainless-steel knife with a jagged back edge and rounded point.
    “Go, Rambo,” Montagno said, backing away from the knife.
    Hermanski slipped the gloves on, reluctantly accepted the larger blade.
    Lacarter tugged on the arrow, removing it.
    “Look at this. It has a razor-tip and carbon shaft. There’s another opening just above it, like he’s been hit twice.”
    “Whoever it was knew your sniper trick. Must be an ex-Marine,” Montagno said.
    “Probably explains the arrow lying over there. Like I said, one shot to the neck and down he goes without making a sound; another and you are sure of a clean kill.” Lacarter pointed to a fallen tree about 20 feet away.
    “Without making a sound, huh? That’s great if you’re shooting arrows, but a gunshot to the windpipe is going to spook all other deer in the area anyway—I still don’t get it.”
    Hermanski bent down and patted the carcass. The meat’s cold and firm. Hey, does this meat smell unusually sweet to you? A little like asparagus?”
    Montagno bent down and sniffed. Lacarter followed. They agreed.
    “Hope it’s okay. You don’t think it’s spoiled do you?” Hermanski looked concerned.
    “Cut some muscle around the stomach area. If it’s mushy then maybe,” Lacarter said.
    Hermanski cut out a small chunk of meat next to a rib. He held it up for a sniff test.
    “Looks and smells fine. It doesn’t have an odor of the intestines. Probably the smell of whatever food he was eating,” Hermanski remarked. He then slit the stomach open revealing a reddish-brown mush. “Here’s the culprit. Whew, it smells like asparagus and…and urine?”
    “His bladder probably burst earlier and backed up through the intestines,” Montagno said.
    “We’re over-analyzing this. Let’s get the rest out and get going.”
    Hermanski worked diligently for five minutes cleaning the breast cavity. Montagno retrieved a rope from his coat pocket and wrapped it around the antlers to form a towrope. Lacarter offered up a deer tag and secured it around one of the antlers.
    “Gents, we are ready. This buck is ours,” Hermanski said, taking off his rubber gloves. He