In the fall of 1988 I was working a job in southwest Pennsylvania on the banks of the Monongahela River. Pretty country and full of game animals. Turkeys flew back and forth across the river every day and deer were so plentiful that you had to be careful driving for fear of hitting them.
Part of the job was involved in filling an old strip mine to the east of the project and above the river highway with excavated material from the riverbank. This was all a heavily wooded area, and the deer used to congregate in the clearings along towards the late afternoons, feeding on the grasses and clover planted by reclamation crews years earlier. We counted upwards of a hundred nearly every day just within the limited area we were working in.
The equipment didn't seem to bother them much and they would walk around the big end-dumps and dozers as tho in a park. There were a number of big bucks, and all the teamsters and operators, and not a few foremen, were chomping at the bit waiting for the opening day of deer season.
We held a meeting before then as so many people had requested permission to bring their rifles to work with them and bag some venison if they got a chance during the shift. I voted against the idea, fearing that I would end up with some holed equipment, and maybe a teamster or two shot out of their trucks. But I was disappointed when the vote went the other way and the project manager said he would take the idea up with the Corps Of Engineers people in charge of the project. That was my last hope, but again, I was disappointed when the Corps guys gave their hearty approval.
On opening day I made my usual before shift walking inspection of the equipment lineup. My maintenance crew and I did this every morning, noon and night, looking for problems big and small with the equipment. We would fix the small problems immediately, and backlog the others for attention later. Anyway, at daylight the production shift began, and I drove back up to the old mine site to see how things were going before heading into town for a quick breakfast and parts run. I started seeing hunters almost before crossing the highway on my way up hill. The further I went, the more there were. When I got to the fill location I could hardly believe my eyes. I had thought the hunters were to be limited to just our employees. I was wrong.
There was a hunter about every fifty feet all around the opening where we were dumping spoils, all dressed in red or orange, must have been about 50-75 people, all carrying the latest in hunting artillery and all scanning everywhere for deer. I spotted the project dirt super sitting in his pickup and drove over next to him for a short talk. Yep, he was armed to the teeth too, and his eyes were darting all around looking for the elusive whitetail.
We did talk, very briefly, and I got the hell out of there and didn't go back that day. It was plumb scary, and me a Vietnam combat vet.
Fortunately, no one got shot that day or anytime after. My equipment came through unscathed too. The worst thing that happened was that one of the guys did shoot a buck, and whilst dressing it out, slipped and slit his leg open for several inches. He had to be transported to hospital for stitches.
Most of the people up there were relatives or close friends of our people. They had the clearing surrounded for sure and a deer didn't have a chance of getting out alive. But, the deer got the word evidently that season was set to open and they didn't show up, except for the few that didn't hear about the big ambush. Hunters took about six or seven bucks out over the next few days, and the opening day crowd never really came back out, a situation I appreciated.
Unfortunately, a few hunters, non-hunters and cars or trucks, get bagged every year in states around the country. I was just reading about a case up in Idaho I think it was, where a guy shot a cow. He told the owner, who basically caught him dragging it down the road with a chain behind his vehicle, that he mistook it for a Coyote. Similar things have happened all over and in fact, I've had a near miss or two while deer hunting in Michigan myself years ago. Stray bullets have to come down somewhere and they cause a lot of damage when they do, sometimes injuring or killing people and pets or blasting a hole through a windshield.
I don't hunt anymore, haven't for years. Not that I'd mind going up to the family camp and hanging out for a few days. That was always a lot of fun, with good food, companionship, and a chance to catch up on what the rest of the family was doing. But I do my meat hunting at Albertson's now a days. It's cheaper in the long run, and probably safer.