A CLOSE ENCOUNTER WITH A BUCK. 



F. D. FANNING, M.D. 



In February, about 1856, when the 

 country was all new and wild in St. Joseph 

 county, Mich., John Hazlett, an agile and 

 strong young man, was working with 2 

 other fellows, clearing a piece of land. 

 There had been a heavy fall of snow a 

 few days before, and after a slight thaw 

 the weather had turned cold, making a 

 strong crust under which the snow was 2 

 feet deep. As the 3 men were going to 

 work one morning they came to where a 

 deer track crossed the trail. The deer's 

 feet had cut through the crust at nearly 

 every step, while a man could easily walk 

 on top. After inspecting the track Haz- 

 lett determined to get the deer. He re- 

 traced his steps to the cabin and loaded 

 the old double barrel muzzle loading shot 

 gun with bird shot, which was the largest 

 on hand. Coming back to the track, he 

 followed it. He had hardly gone 30 rods 

 when a big buck jumped up just in front 

 of him. As he sprang up he seemed to 

 be stiff and did not move quickly. Hazlett 

 fired, the shot striking the animal in the 

 side of the head, staggering him. At the 

 second discharge of the gun the buck 

 wobbled again, but made off, bleeding 

 profusely from the head. After going a 

 short distance he lay down and waited 

 until Hazlett came up before he jumped 

 again. This occurred a number of times, 

 but each time the distance grew less. Fi- 

 nally the buck refused to be driven any 

 farther. Hazlett gathered clubs and sticks, 

 and, hurling them at him, succeeded in 

 moving him along farther, but aroused his 

 ire. Hazlett pelted him hard, and thought 

 for a while he could knock him over, but 

 the clubs were broken branches and not 

 heavy enough. Each time the buck was hit 

 the hair on his neck and shoulders would 

 rise and turn forward; and, finally, when 

 Hazlett was within 10 or 12 feet of 

 him, he lowered his head and charged. 

 The snow was too deep and the buck too 



close for Hazlett to get away, so quickly 

 dodging to the right and throwing out 

 his left arm, he encircled the buck's neck 

 with it and the battle was on. Fortunate- 

 ly, the buck had already shed his horns for 

 the season. The animal reared and 

 plunged. The only weapon Hazlett had 

 was a jack knife in his trousers' pocket. 

 This he got out and opened with his free 

 hand as soon as possible. All that time 

 the buck was trying to strike with his 

 feet, but on account of the deep snow, 

 could not do much. As soon as he could 

 Hazlett jabbed the buck in the neck with 

 the knife. Then, for the first time since 

 charging, the buck wanted to get away; 

 but Hazlett was afraid to let go then 

 for fear the deer would turn and kill him. 

 He hung on like grim death. When the 

 buck made a leap Hazlett swung himself 

 up on to its back and grasped the animal's 

 right ear with his right hand; and when 

 they would land Hazlett's weight would 

 force the deer to its knees. 



Every time Hazlett's right hand was 

 free, he would use the knife. The buck's 

 struggles began to diminish, and after 15 

 minutes' battle he was down. Hazlett was 

 a sight to behold. He had on a pair of 

 heavy trousers and a pair of overalls, and 

 from the middle of his thigh down the 

 legs of both were gone. He was com- 

 pletely saturated with blood, and his legs 

 were cut in 30 or 40 places by the buck's 

 hoofs. He dragged the animal to the 

 cabin. There his wounds, painful yet not 

 deep, were dressed. An examination of 

 the buck's legs disclosed the fact that they 

 were badly cut, showing that he had been 

 run hard by dogs on the crust. This ac- 

 counted for his stiffness when first get- 

 ting up. This fellow, after getting away 

 from the dogs so successfully, deserved a 

 better fate; but he served to demonstrate 

 the pluck and agility of Mr. Hazlett. 



"How large a permanent population has 

 Crimson Gulch?" inquired the tourist. 



"Well," answered Broncho Bob, "we've 

 got about 407 living here. But with so 

 much hoss stealin' an' brace faro goin' on, 

 I wouldn't allude to anybody as bein' par- 

 ticular permanent." 



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