The men headed out to the woods to hunt for white-tailed deer. The place was Hubbardton, Vermont, and the time was in the mid sixties.
My dad, Ray Sr., noted for his abilities at hunting the gray ghosts, directed Tommy to sit by a fence along a specific pasture area surrounded by junipers and cedars. Tommy promptly questioned my father and said, "But Ray...you can't see very far here!"
"If you were a deer, would you go where you could be seen from afar?" My dad replied.
Tommy reluctantly listened and stayed where he was told to. A couple hours passed and Tommy was surprised when he heard my father hollar from a swamp down below the pasture.
"Tommy. There are Four deer coming.....the last one is a big buck!"
As the hours passed, others and my father met up with Tommy, the city-slicker from Connecticut. My dad walked to the fence and saw the fresh tracks, accompanied by deer hair on the fence. He looked at Tommy and questioned..."What happened? They came right through here!"
Tommy answered back with a shaky voice..."Ray...I fired over and over and I missed every time!"
Tommy was shaking and white as a ghost. Ray looked to the others and they all shrugged. Nobody had heard a shot, yet he was claiming he fired six times.
When Ray stepped over the fence, his question was answered. Six un-fired rifle bullets lay in a pile on the ground. Tommy had levered the old 30-30 six times yet never squeezed the trigger. Certainly, this was the best buck fever tail the group would ever tell!