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I dunno....I think too many guys are too quick to assume poaching at the first sign of a dead deer in the woods. Easy to speculate but that deer could have been killed by anything.

Those lead free ones may become a go to pellet as few places here in the Capital District strongly suggest or plea for hunters to use non toxic shot. I have to admit to the though of launching those Nosler in .25 at squirrels make me as giggy as a kid on Christmas Eve They didnt group as well I would have liked. They were the best I could find at first,I couldnt miss with them. Then my stock to barrel screws came loose and after I retightened them they just didnt group. Cant explain it. Try 'em out and see how they work, then buy accordingly. I have a bunch of expensive .177 cal pellets from PA for you to try if we link up sometime for a squirrel hunt.

Theres been alot of bad issues at stewert since the D.E.C. doesn't patrol it anymore.I have heard alot of bad things from there.Guys just cutting backstraps and hinds off deer.People being threatened. People coming in in truck loads driving deer,Shooting from the roads, parking in and hunting in areas where someones already parked.sneaking shotguns over on the stewart side.That place is a lawsuit waiting to happen. Somebodys gonna get shot over there soon.

lost from hunting season and not recovered?? poaching usually results in some meat/horns taken.. looks more like an inexperianced / maybe slob hunter losing a recovererable deer.

Ha! Guilty as charged.

I figured the lefty libs out here would love this. Now I sit me down in school Where praying is against the rule For this great nation under God Finds mention of Him very odd. If Scripture now the class recites, It violates the Bill of Rights. And anytime my head I bow Becomes a Federal matter now. Our hair can be purple, orange or green, That's no offense; it's a freedom scene. The law is specific, the law is precise. Prayers spoken aloud are a serious vice. For praying in a public hall Might offend someone with no faith at all. In silence alone we must meditate, God's name is prohibited by the state. We're allowed to cuss and dress like freaks, And pierce our noses, tongues and cheeks. They've outlawed guns, but FIRST the Bible. To quote the Good Book makes me liable. We can elect a pregnant Senior Queen, And the 'unwed daddy,' our Senior King. It's "inappropriate" to teach right from wrong, We're taught that such "judgments" do not belong. We can get our condoms and birth controls, Study witchcraft, vampires and totem poles. But the Ten Commandments are not allowed, No word of God must reach this crowd. It's scary here I must confess, When chaos reigns the school's a mess. So, Lord, this silent plea I make: Should I be shot; My soul please take! Amen

Chapter 3: The Road Back in the day, into the early 60's in fact the road was just plain dirt. It wasn't a long stretch from end to end with not many people living on it. For more than half its length, a small stream ran along it about 100 yeards in the woods, gradually getting closer until it crossed under the road by our property and ran along it about a mile or so. Anbout 6 feet wide, 12 inches deep in teh deep spots and in a ravine about 12 feet down. The residents, just us, Chuck's log house right across from our driveway built on the stream, Sam's place next door. They were an Orthodox Jewish family from Brooklyn who came up during the summer. (See Dirty Dancing for this period when Sullivan County was the Jewish Alps, East Durham- the Irish Alps and Ellenville was the Ukrainian Alps) Past Sam's were the locals who settled here ages ago. One of them years back got into a bar fight in town, tore the bar loose from the floor and someone wound up getting killed. So, after he did his time, his probation stiplulated that he could not set foot on pavement, he was confined to that little stretch of dirt road. He's stand with his toes touching the pavement at the intersection, waiting for someone to come up and bring him a plug of Red Man to 'chaw". If you didn't have Red Man, he'd have no problem chewing Camels, paper and all. He was a big man, big enough that he bounced the rear end of my father's car out of a ditch when he got stuck. He passed on some time ago and the memories from when i was little was me wanting to go pet his bull that was always tied under the big tree and the corner of his field. Later I found out it was a pig. Sam decided to dig a pond where the stream crossed his property. He had a fine one built, big enough for a small dock and an island. He had the presence of mind to add a storm gate so he could drop thewater level if the pillway couldn't handle the flow. Brook trout took hold naturally and I fly fished the pond as well as the lower campsites at Beaverkill. A funny thing about these trout, all they wanted was Light Cahills. We had Dark Cahills, Light and Dark Adams, they all look like mosquitos to me but the trout wanted Light. So me and my cousin wiped out every Light Cahill Bob Darbee had in the shop, one eye warily on the rattlesnake skin. The pond was so nice that the beavers took a shine to it for a few years and blocked up the spillway so the pond flooded the surround. They chewed all the birch trees about a foot of the ground so it was like walking thru a Burmese Tiger Trap. Fall and you would be impaled. Then the beavers were gone. One year I went up in February with my ex and her cousins. He cousin was a limo driver and he brought the limo. I had a VW Beetle. Couldn't get up to the house with the snow so we parked on the road. The neighbors saw the cars and thought the mafia was having a pow-wow at the club. In teh morning the cinder truck came thru so the cousins beat a hasty retreat as the road had iced slick. I came down later, sat in the VW and it slip down the road for 50 yards, nothing I could do but hang on. The cinder truck cam back and we beat feet. Sam sold the place, a few more trailers dotted the stream, the new owners let the flood gate fall into disrepair. Then came that rainstorm a few years back. The storm from hell. Well, the rain came and the stream flowed and the pond filled and the spillway couldn't handle it and the pond gave way. The water came down with such force that the bridge was racked some, the bend in the stream widened to 30 feet. Chuck's waterview log house, became waterfront and then just water in rapid succession. The stream carved the road and roadbed off the side of the mountain and took out the lower bridge. Next year, if you drove to the club via the back way, the road just ended in front of our place in a chasm that once was a road. Chuck's living room was hanging cantalevered over the now 20 foot wide stream in a 40 foot wide stream bed. It was condemned and bulldozed. Surveyors came a year later and damn if they didn't bring in rock and wire mesh baskets filled with rock and fill and gravel and we have a new road much nicer than before with the same little stream along side it. A true marvel of engineering how they built the shelf back on the mountain and made it look like nothing happened. The pond is smaller, I think the owner got spanked by the town. Sam's place is posted now..as is everything else. The pig is gone but the tree and the houses are still there. And just like our club, the first and second generationsof those pioneers are gone, their thrid generation is my age and the fourth is coming into their own. But they'll never know the age of carrying water from a spring, wood stoves, axes and splittin mauls, wool clothes, true woodsmen and pigs as big as bulls.