Bonus Bobcat 1982

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BONUS BOBCAT 1982

The autumn weather and sun angle triggering Photoperiodism has caused the majority of the tree leaves to turn to beautiful hues of rich browns, fire reds, golden yellows and brilliant oranges with various mixtures of the rainbow colors and have fallen to the ground like droplets of rain and suspended aloft momentarily at times by the thermal currents of the wind.  The wind is getting much more brisk of late biting into your bones as if you have no protection at all from the elements provided by the numerous layers of clothing worn.  Acorns have already made their annual decent to the ground below from the lofty mighty towering ancient oaks that are scattered on the ridge line overlooking a small creek that runs into an old canal that is fed from the Pee Dee River, Blewett Falls Lake that once powdered a grist mill of which was long gone around the early 1900s.  This is the area I plan to hunt this 1982 archery season looking forward to being able to enjoy what God has created for all of us if we only take the time to utilize those resources.  

Long before White settlers inhabited this area, Native Americans hunted these same ridges and bottoms as evidenced by the stone arrowheads and spear heads found nearby.  By the vast amount of rock chips and incomplete arrowheads and spear points, the place I found was no doubt where the Native American Craftsman had his campsite sitting hours upon hours chipping away with another stone and sharpened antler tip lashed with leather strips to a piece of wood used as a lever and fashioned those stone points and arrowheads of which some of those artifacts I would classify as seconds not meeting the arrowhead and spear head maker's standard and were simply discarded close by.   The arrowhead maker probably protected himself from flying chips by having a coat of mud over his face and exposed arms and hands and used a piece of Buckskin to protect the hand holding the piece of stone since pressure from the antler tip caused a chip to be removed from the back side of the stone being chipped leaving a razor sharp cutting edge.  Prior to the actual chipping of the stone, he no doubt reduced larger chunks of his raw material into suitable working sizes called "pre forms" which could have been volcanic glass (obsidian), quartz, flint and a variety of stones he either found himself or barter and traded for from other areas.  The Native Americans lived in a time without restraints and limitations as to time and their primary objective was to have the basic necessities of life; food, clothing and shelter and the protection from neighboring tribes.  On can only imagine the chaos, pain and suffering the Native Americans experienced when White settlers moved in and took what was rightfully theirs.  Below pix of some of the arrowheads and spear points that I did not mount under a glass frame but still had stored in a machinists tool box:

At this time of the year, deer quickly devour the Willow Oak acorns first along with the White Oak acorns since they are the least bitter and will finish off the Red Oak acorns which has more tannic acid in them which translate to much more bitterness.   I know this personally since I have tasted them just for the experience of knowing first hand!  One can only wonder what the scene would have been like about the time when the old grist mill was in full operation with the local farmers bringing their loaded wagons drawn by laboring mules, oxen or horses with the wagons bulging sacks of corn, wheat, barley, etc to be ground into meal, flour and grits.  But alas, such scenes are now gone and committed to eternal memories from the past and ones own imagination unless some ole black and white photographs or etchings have survived to more accurately tell the tell. The only remnants left of those by gone years is the hand dug canal which might be passable by canoe although the years has caused the once steep rock lined banks to erode and trees have fallen into and across the banks of the canal with sediment deposits from the flowing muddy river have reduced the depth to a couple to 3 feet in places.  The two large circular granite rock grist mill grinding stones which have a round hole bored through them of which one has extra slots cut from the center hole for attachment to the water powered wooden drive shaft are close by the canal resting there for over a century. The ole moss and plant covered grist mill stones have occupied their silent grave for many generations and if they could only tell of their origin no doubt mined from the rock quarries of mountains in France and transformed into the grist mill stones by the state of the art process at the time which incurred a tremendous amount of physical labor from stone craftsmen.  Those stones would then be shipped in the hulls of the ships as ballast to the few ports in North America and transported via railway (those that existed) and then finally by oxen to their current location.  It had to be a tremendous task to construct an operational grist mill during the middle 1700s and 1800s from the ground up and I am sure if we could personify those stones, they would  have many stories to tell about the decades they labored and what had transpired since the demise of the ole grist mill as they now lay silently in their above ground tomb never again to feel the kernels of the farmer's harvested grain transverse between them yielding sacks of flour, corn meal, grits and feed for livestock.  

Pixs below of the stones referenced above at their present location and the story leading up to their removal from the ole grist mill site at the canal: 

The above stone is the upper stone called the runner stone which rotates slightly above the bottom stone called the bedstone which does not rotate.  Both these stones are 46 inches in diameter and are 14 1/4 inches thick and no doubt weigh close to 2000 pounds each and research reveals they would be capable of grinding about 300 pounds of grain per hour.  Operational water driven grist mills today have covers over them and you cannot actually see the inside operation of the grist mill stones in action.  Below is the bedstone which does not rotate:

When viewing the stones face up, the furrows and lands have identical patterns but when they are installed their pattern is opposite which accounts for the shearing action of the two stones like a pair of scissors.

In operation, the upper runner stone is slowly lowered while spinning very close to the lower bedstone which is stationary and grain is fed into the stones from a hopper above the center of the runner stone and grinding takes place.  The grist mill operation is far more complex that one would imagine and the stones have to be surface dressed near perfectly flat to keep a good sharp shearing action between the stones like a scissor and the furrows also have to be chiseled as well to maintain a square edge as depicted in the drawing below:

     

The grooves in the stones are called furrows and help channel the ground grain and husk to the outer perimeter of the stones where it is collected, sieved and graded into collection bins.  A few close up pixs of the stones:

The granite grist mill stones at their original resting place adjacent the canal were hidden from normal view by small trees and undergrowth that had grown around them and only visible by a very close inspection from the more curious observer and had settled into the ground a good amount.  Before the stones were removed adjacent the canal to their current location, the furrows used to grind and cut the grain like a pair of scissors, as well as move the grain outward from the center of the millstones to the outer circumference and the furrows were also used to increase the air space between the millstone to keep the grind cooler were still readily visible even with all the moss, etc after over a century of resting there.  Below is a .gif animation of how the stones work together:

Below is a pix taken many years later of the permanent tree stand that I took my first deer with bow and arrow from and the granite grist mill stones were about 30 yards from the tree stand and slightly to the right where the ole grist mill and logging road made a sharp bend also to the right and not too many yards from the flowing canal.  The tree had been dead quite a few years when I took this picture with my ole Nikon F2AS 35MM film camera and the dead tree is leaning to the right in preparation for its final resting place onto the ground to be transformed back into the elements of the earth from which it sprang forth:

About a month ago, the stones found a new home as I will describe.  This 2,810 acre track of land formerly known as the Dr. Davis Estate Land was sold to the Catawba Timber Company with the N.C. Wildlife Resources Commission leasing and/or managing the land as Game Lands.  I was bowhunting about 30 yards from the location of the grist mill granite stones one cool late autumn morning when I heard a dozer approaching from the entrance of the grist mill road which had grown up and only a small path at the most.  By the sound of the dozer it was getting closer and closer and decided my morning hunt was definitely over by all the loud noise created from the dozerís laboring engine.  I took my time and got down from my tree stand which was a portable climbing tree stand and was very close by and in full camouflage clothing with face painted and all when the bulldozer approached and was following the old ancient grist mill road bed widening it with the dozers blade pushing small saplings and other debris out of its way when it hit one of the grist mill stones with a loud bang of which the dozer operator stopped to investigate what he had ran into. As the dozer operator was inspecting the granite grist mill stone,  I walked up from behind him and said, ďHelloĒ of which he jumped about a foot or more off the ground in total fright and horror as if something had gotten hold of him.  We both got a tremendous grin from that and asked him his name and he replied that he was, ďFrancis BurrĒ making a road for logging equipment.  Francis said that no way he would have ever imagined someone would be this far from the paved road and we chatted a few minutes.  I guarantee you he has not forgotten that incident to this date.  Francis Burr later came back and moved the granite grist mill stones to their current location which was utilized as yard dťcor.  It seemed a pity to remove those ole stones of which it is easy to personify them as if they were a living object but I guess its done in the name of progress.

I planned to hunt the ridge adjacent the grist mill canal about 100 yards up the canal where I had observed a fresh deer scrape which had a lot of rubs in the area with several deer trails along the lower crest of the ridge where the deer were apparently feeding on acorns and by the amount of rubs and scrapes, one large buck was certainly in full rut.  The previous year, I bow hunted the same area but never got a look at the buck which was mostly nocturnal.  I heard him once before daylight while approaching my hunting stand and later in the day found a fresh rub where I had heard him.  This particular buck I named Phantom because he was so elusive.  He had about 3 or 4 scrapes in this vicinity but never once did I see him visit any of those scrapes during daylight hours but he kept them fresh by the smell of the strong urine that was in them.  I was hoping that the fresh scrapes of this season was his and get a chance to make a fatal shot on him but again, he is the Phantom.  The white oak and red oak trees near Phantomís scrapes and rub line were too small to support a portable tree stand and had to settle further away from the trail about 30 yards which is still within my shooting limits with the bow and arrow to select a suitable tree that wasn't too small or too large.

I placed my portable Baker Pro Hunter model tree stand on a suitable sized red oak tree and had to get about 24 feet off the ground to have a good view of the trail and really didnít know which direction the buck worked his scrape line from.  The Baker tree stand platform is 24 x 32 inches but is a little too flimsy for my 200 lb. plus frame but could secure it to over a large limb and used a set of Bashlin aluminum alloy climbing gaffs to get up and down the tree which is still somewhat dangerous.  The upper gripper blade was lashed with small rope to keep it from moving.  Everything was now ready to try for the Phantom buck.

My wrist watch alarm went off at 5:01 AM and the large king sized bed with the electric blanket and additional cover felt very good and I debated whether or not to get up.  The thoughts of touching the cold wood floor just about won out but a hunter is not rationale most of the time.  I eased from the covers and when both feet hit the ice cold floor it didnít take them long to get out of that bedroom where there is carpet and is a good bit warmer living area.  I dialed the local time and temperature and it was 48 degrees and decided to wear some insulated & filled under pants and shirt since I would be hunting with the wind coming from the North to North West and a good 16 mile drive from our home not to mention a good 20 minutes of brisk walking to access the tree stand.  I also put on brown camouflage hunting pants and a long sleeve pullover shirt with a light weight camouflage hunting shirt.  My hunting equipment was a Brown Bear 2 wheel compound bow set at 67 pounds and using 2018 XX75 autumn orange arrows tipped with Wasp camlock 145 grain broads and had a homemade cable guard bar installed and a Flipper arrow rest and an adjustable Berger button.  The quiver was a detachable Kwikee Kwiver with 6 arrows.  I usually carry a fanny pack which is the USMC surplus and on a regular pistol belt with a set of army suspenders.  On the belt is a 1 quart plastic canteen, small Eastwing hatchet, fanny pack, ammo pouch which carries a rangefinder and a small Army surplus pouch that contains a compass and a small bottle of deer sent.  There is also a small pouch that contains a plastic scent vent of buck lure attached to one of the suspenders.  I usually carry a 30 feet nylon rope with a snap on one end to pull the bow and gear up the tree after I am safely buckled to the tree with a safety strap.  Depending on the stand, I carry a set of Bashlin pole climbers to get up the tree and this particular tree stand will require their usage.  I plan to leave the tree stand at that location until the seasons end or might decide to move it before then.  The fanny pack contains the usual stuff such as first aid supplies, spare bow string, broadheads, emergency gear, plastic bags, fluorescent orange ribbon, tissue paper and other things including a knife which is enough gear to last a week on a Safari hunt.

The day prior to this hunt had a continuous light to heavy rain that lasted until about 10 PM and the following morning was very clear with the stars shinning out of the dark sky.  The moon was about 1/2 full and still out, maybe not the best time for hunting early in the morning but with the rut on and reasoned the deer would be on the move this morning.  The drive took about half an hour winding through some beautiful farm country in the Southern piedmont section of Anson County near Blewett Falls Lake. The walk to the ridge took about 20 minutes at a normal pace or somewhat slower pace to not generate enough body heat to perspire and give my position away to the deer population.  While in route on an old logging road there were numerous deer tracks made during the night following the rain.  This helped me psychologically as I figured the deer would continue to move this morning or at least I hoped as much.  Prior to leaving my parked car, I put 2 green felt strips on each boot lace that I had soaked in Red Fox urine since I would be crossing a couple deer trails getting to my stand.  I also unscrewed the scent vent of skunk essence pinned to my camouflage shirt in hopes the scent would overpower my own scent as I walked toward the ridge.

When I reached the stand at about 6:10 AM, I put my bow down and uncoiled the 30 ft. nylon rope.  Then walked to the fresh deer scrape and dropped a few drops of doe-in-heat lure near it and back tracked down the trail to my stand sprinkling a few drops of the lure on the brush and leaves about waste height in hopes of luring the Phantom buck on up the trail to me in case he did not approach from my direction.  There is too much cover between my stand and the scrape to attempt a shot with an arrow so was counting on the lure to hopefully work.  I also placed two felt strips soaked in the lure on each side of the trail about 10 yards from my stand in a small clearing that would be an easy shot from the stand.  I further placed some pure buck urine taken from a large 6 point buck in November of 1981 that was stored in a 35MM film canister and placed on a rotten pine tree stump near the deer trail in hopes of setting a trap for any deer that might happen along.  With my so called deer lure trap set, I put the climbing hooks on and climbed the tree and got into position.  Its dangerous climbing in darkness with a pair of pole climbers and extreme caution was taken each time one of the spikes was pushed into the tree before the other foot was removed. The next thing done was attaching the safety strap around my waits before I did any moving around on the tree stand.  The pole climbers were removed and hung on a limb and the fanny pack and suspenders were hung on one of the extending side rails of the tree stand.  My bow was drawn up the tree and also hung on a limb.  I removed the detachable quiver from the bow and attached the quiver to one of the stand front rails which had a bracket attached to it for that purpose and you can easily remove arrows as needed from the quiver. The wind was blowing and a little chilly but the layers of clothing felt very warm indeed and it was around 6:30 AM and the sun didnít rise until around 7:00 AM.  The thirty minute sit in the fold down seat wasnít too uncomfortable but bearable while thinking of the Phantom buck slowly and cautiously slipping around in near silence inching his way toward his fresh scrapes. Such thoughts can cause ones vision to materialize a deer from the shadows and overhanging tree branches with only the rising sun to erase them completely. With the sun coming up, the fog began to come in causing visibility to shorten to less than forty yards and the chilly autumn and early winter air caused my feet to feel like miniature and my ungloved right bow hand getting somewhat numb for the cold breeze.

As the sun slowly made its ascent, the fog began to lift and vaporize and the birds began singing their melodious songs and it reminded me of the previous spring and fall mornings.  A grey squirrel emerged from a large dead tree about 25 yards in front of my stand and traveled along its decaying weather beaten limbs to a large white oak tree in search of any remaining ripened acorns that had not fallen to the forest floor below.  A close by Brown Thrash bird has spotted me and cannot quite understand what I am or what I am doing in this white oak tree and is very inquisitive turning his head from side to side and will only approach to within about 3 feet.  I remain statue like and play a silent staring game with him and his curiosity is finally eased and he flew off to another location.

Approximately an hour and fifteen minutes has passed since settling down in the tree stand without seeing or hearing a whitetail deer.  Suddenly, I hear a rustle of the dry leaves to my right about 40 yards away and see a movement of something brown walking rather fast.  Its long brown slender body, short stubby tail, upright poised ears and unusually long legs reveal itís a Bobcat.  The Bobcat is moving in a half circle rather stiff legged and it apparently came from beneath the crest of the ridge and is in search of food.  The bobcat headed for the deer scrape and when it winded the doe in heat lure I had sprinkled a few drops on the ground at the scrape, it began to follow the trail I laid from the scrape to my tree stand.  I had put a few drops every 3 or 4 feet apart on leaves and branches beside and in the deer trail up to a small opening about 10 yards from my stand.  The Bobcat went to each one of the lured places and smelled them and continued to walk up the trail toward my stand.  By this time, I had eased from the fold down seat and stood upright with my bow ready.  The Bobcat slowly walked in the clearing toward the last lured spot and I drew my arrow back to my anchor point and placed the 20 yard sight pin on his neck and shoulder.  The Bobcat was standing lengthwise from me and I knew my arrow would probably go a little high since he was only 10 yards from me although I didnít am low to compensate.  At about the instant I was at full draw, the Bobcat looked directly up at me.  I knew it would not wait around to figure out what I was so my arrow was released.  The arrow hit fairly solid giving a thud type sound upon impact and the Bobcat spun around quickly although its dexterity was very uncoordinated smacking into the undergrowth while it ran.  It took a path similar to the one it had taken to my stand but veered off to the right of it from my stand.  I figured the Bobcat was hit very well and that to continue on the stand waiting for deer would be useless.  I hung my bow on a limb and put my climbing hooks on and then lowered my bow and fanny pack to the ground and descended down the tree. The feel of the ground beneath my feet certainly did feel good.

My pulse and blood pressure was at a maxim due to my excitement and anxiety was building until I could verify a hit and kill on the unlucky Bobcat.  This Bobcat was the second one I had seen in the wild and I certainly considered it a trophy.  The 25 feet climb down to the ground took far less time than climbing up and my adrenalin had to be working overtime at this point.  After getting down from the tree, I immediately checked the arrow which was stuck in the ground a few inches at the same angle that it was when it left the bow.  The arrow was covered with blood and the broadhead had a good amount of hair embedded between the blades.  A few feet from the arrow,  I found a piece of white fatty looking tissue about 1/8 inch in diameter and about 3 inches in length and thought it might have come from the Bobcatís stomach area.  I continued to search for a blood trail but there just wasnít one.  I went back about 20 yards from the hit site and made a circle looking for sign and clues as to what had happened.  I dot down on hands and knees and looked but still couldnít find any sign.  The leaves and ground was wet with the morning due helping to camouflage the sparse blood trail which had to be there from the looks of the arrow.  I conditioned the search in larger sweeps and spent a couple hours to no avail.  I really felt like giving up and reasoned that I had made a gut shot or that I had only grazed the cat instead of making a fatal hit.  I then went back to the arrow and last sign and got down again on all fours and searched for more sign.  By now the leaves and ground was drying and the temperature was climbing into the low 60s and I had to remove a set of the quilted under clothing to keep from having a heat stroke.  I finally found some very small blood splotches and marked the spot with a Kleenex tissue and continued to look for more sign.  Without getting down on hands and knees it would have been nearly impossible to see the small dried blood stains on the leaves.  Also, this late in the year, the maple leaves had similar blood color adding to the difficulty in following the sparse blood trail.  About every five or six feet, minute blood stains would be found and occasionally a much larger blood stain would be found.  By the type of blood stain, it appeared that the cat had moved very quickly through the area because the blood was not deposited in droplets but have been smeared and splattered.  Two times the cat had rubbed its right side on small sapling trees which left a blood stain about 12 to 15 inches from the ground it covered about 6 to 8 inches in length and the blood had ran down the sapling forming a droplet at its base.  I now figured I had hit the Bobcat on its right side somewhere near the stomach area.  This sign was found about 70 yards from the hit site and the cat was now making a circle back to the lower end of the ridge heading for the small creek.  Many times the blood trail was lost and the blood stains were getting much smaller and farther apart.  Sometimes the stains would be less than the diameter of a pencil lead but at least it was still present and able to keep following the blood trail.

I cut a small sapling about 3/4 inch in diameter and made a flag with it since my tissue paper was about used up and I back tracked and retrieved some of the tissue to aid marking the sparse blood trail.  I would place the flag on the last blood or hair sign.  Not too far away, I found some partly digested rabbit hair matted together and was certain the arrow had entered into the catís stomach or intestines.  I also knew I had a long hard trail to follow and that there was a possibility that the blood trail would eventually be lost when the cat bled out or the wound was closed by its intestines.  This tracking business is hard working indeed but only ones determination and tracking skills of which mine was limited due to inexperience can make the difference between success or failure.  I was determined not to give up and to follow the trail until I knew there was no trail left to follow.

At one point near the ridge where it gradually tapers down to a deer crossing where a small wet weather branch feeds into the small creek that runs parallel with the ridge, the cat went to the roots of a blown down tree and traveled the length of the tree as if trying to hole or den up.  The cat continued down the ridge and its trail led to the edge of the creek where all indications was that it entered the creek.  A few days prior we had several days of light to heavy rain and the banks of the creek were swollen and there was no way to cross the creek without walking a mile or so and then there was low places on the other side that would make traveling very difficult.  This area is very dense with bamboo and thick undergrowth laced with sting nettle plants about waist high that will put some serious whelps on your skin upon contact and as its name implies, STING.  These sting nettle plants have very small needle like spines on them and will pierce through a couple layers of regular clothes and leave a painful, itching string and whelp on your skinÖ..been there done that!

One other possibility was left and that was to come up the river by boat and walk straight to the creek from the river and made the decision to do that.  I went back to my stand which was over 100 yards away and gathered my pole climbers, fanny pack and other gear and hiked back to my vehicle.  I wasted no time returning home and getting my boat and trailer hitched up and went to Blewett Falls Lake and put in at the Old Boat Landing.  It took about 20 minutes by boat to get to the ridge running the16 feet John Boat powered by a 50 HP Mercury outboard motor tacked out at 5000 RPM leaving a good length rooster trailing in the air behind the boat.  I had a power trim until installed on the motor and could plane the boat out with only a couple feet of boat bottom surface making contact with the water surface.

Upon arriving at the area about directly in front of where I had tracked the Bobcat to the creek, I anchored and it took another half an hour to walk from the Pee Dee River, Blewett Falls Lake to the creek adjacent the ridge.  As I said earlier, the sting nettle surely does hurt and I trampled them aside the best I could getting through the thick swampy area which probably isnít more than 200 yards in width to the creek.  I finally found the deer crossing at the base of the ridge where an old platform deer stand still remains although not usable in its current condition.  I located the tree across the creek where the cats blood trail had ended upon entering the creek which is only about 10 yards wide at that particular place.  I started looking around for sign at the creeks edge and noticed that the water level had dropped about a foot since the morning.  I continued looking and as I came directly in front of the last Bobcat sign on the other side of the creek, I spotted the Bobcat to my left lying at the waters edge.  Why hadnít I noticed the cat from the other side of the creek earlier?  The cat must have been under the water or either it was so well camouflaged that I had just overlooked it.

It felt relieved that I had located the Bobcat but I was saddened that the cat had to travel so far before death took its eternal grasp. My arrow had entered on the right side behind the rib cage and exited at a slight angle in the lower intestines.  The catís lower intestines were extended about a foot behind it.  One can only imagine how it traveled so far with such internal damage done.  I expect the determination to survive and exist can be paralleled to ourselves since all things great and small desire to live even the ones we take for granted like domestic cattle and birds.

The question I raised is why did I shoot a couple of inches to the left at such a close distance?  I remembered that I had earlier set my adjustable Berger button in toward the riser of my bow and had readjusted my sights because I recently switched from 2117 arrows to the 2018 which are smaller in diameter and the arrows were in the ball park; e.g. 2 to 4 inch groups at 20 yards which is
sufficient for deer, but an animal the size of a Bobcat presents a much smaller target in body width.

In bowhunting as in other sports, there is very little margin for error and equipment must be maintained and adjusted for maximum efficiency, performance and accuracy.  The Bobcat was a female and didnít weight it but it must have went about 30 pounds.  I plan to have the Bobcat mounted and look forward displaying the Bobcat.  This Bobcat has taught me several things about being more prepared which I hope will make me a better bowhunter and Sportsman.  Below pix of the mounted Bobcat which I wasn't pleased with the amateurish job:

  

Above hunting short story was hand written sometime in late 1982 and typed and edited with a few additional comments on 06-07-13 with pictures added on 06-08-13.

The following year 1983, I harvested my first deer with traditional archery equipment commonly referred to as "stick n string" a couple hundred yards from this area adjacent at a small tributary of Savannah Creek and still locked into the memories from the past:



NOTES:  Since that 1982 Bobcat, I have taken one other Bobcat with archery equipment and two others with a .270 Winchester. The other three (3) were taken from the same field near Casonís Old Field, lower part of Anson County, North Carolina.  The other archery Bobcat was observed at the end of a soybean field approximately 200 yards in length and I got out a small rabbit in distress mouth call made by Burnham Brothers and gave a few rabbit in distress squeals and the cat headed straight to my call.  About 40 yards out I had placed a scent vent with some deer urine and had the plastic Zip-Loc type plastic bag in the small ditch nearby of which the Bobcat went directly to the deer urine and pressed his head and neck against the plastic bag as a dog would do.  I gave a couple more low volume rabbit in distress squeals on the mouth call and he headed directly toward me and stopped within 17 yards of which I judged the yardage as 20 yards and missed him with the first arrow of which the Bobcat whirled around and slapped at the arrow fletch when it hit right beside him.  I was lucky enough to nock another arrow while he was observing the arrow and slowly drew my bow back and held the 20 yard sight pin several inches low on his vital area and make a clean kill shot with the cat only going about 40 yards.  I gave the first Bobcat taken in this story to one of our local Taxidermists and after three (3) years had not received my Bobcat mount and finally upon pressing him several times, he supposedly had someone else do the mount for me which looked like a rat t--d in a flower sack; very unprofessional.  I was very disappointed with the mount but the memories of the deer hunt that turned into a Bonus Bobcat still lives on.

I drove to Lilesville, NC  this morning and took a few pixs of the ole grist mill stones final resting place near the intersection of Ingram Mountain Road and Stanback Ferry Road on property owned by Mike Goodwin which has storage buildings for rent on his property.  You can see a large chip out of one of the stones (bedstone) perimeter no doubt caused by contact from the bulldozer's blade that Francis Burr was operating in 1982 when he ran into them. 

I also talked with Susan Burr this evening and she related to me that Francis had passed away in 2005 and certainly sorry for her loss.  I was hoping to refresh his memory about those stones but time waits for no one and certainly thankful for each and every day the Lord allows us.

God Bless! 

Written in 1982 by William M. Porter, Web published by Bill aka Mickey Porter 06-07-13 with updated pixs on 06-08-13.

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