“During hunting season in 1954, my husband and I decided to join my folks in Flagstaff, AZ for a weekend of hunting. We went out in the folks’ big station wagon and decided to hunt in one of my family’s favorite hunting spots called Tin Roof. Why it had that name, I never knew, but the hunting was always good.
Our camp was soon set up and mom and I decided to keep the fire company while my husband, my dad, and my brother hunted. About half an hour later, dad and my brother returned because they were hungry. As the four of us sat around the fire talking, I told them about my most recent job at the Prescott Arizona Chevrolet Dealer as a hostess/greeter for the new 1955 models. It was rather funny about that job because out of all the beautiful girls they had in town, all of whom were in school, the dealer had to settle for two married women—both of whom were pregnant–in fact, I was due within the month!
Dad had just asked about the new cars when we heard a shot, then several more shots from the direction my husband had taken. Dad laughed and remarked that he hoped Bob (my husband) was bringing a deer in. We agreed, but were startled when there were about four more shots. We looked at each other wondering if he fallen and hurt himself and was calling for help or if he had ‘buck fever.’ Dad and mom thought, after a while, perhaps they should go out and search for him, but before they could Bob came into camp–without a deer, but wearing a very queer, white look on his face! He dropped his rifle next to the chuck box while mom handed him a cup of steaming coffee which he took in shaking hands!
Gulping the coffee down without noticing the heat, he told us this story:
He had gone to the left from camp, as dad and my brother went to the right. He had gone perhaps 100 yards when he saw a magnificent buck – a pure white one! The rack was wide with many prongs, some twisted into each other, showing the white buck had some age on him. All the young man could think of was how wonderful it would be to show off those magnificent antlers!
Bob thought it was rather strange the animal never acknowledged his presence as he couldn’t have been over twenty feet away. Even when he jacked a shell into the chamber, the buck went on grazing on some grass. He fired once, knowing he had aimed true for the heart. All the buck did was shake the flies from his antlers. The second shot caused the beast to slow down in his eating, raise his head, and actually look at the hunter. Upon the next several shots, the buck sprang into some heavy bushes and disappeared. Bob could hear his hooves striking rocks, then silence. Knowing he had hit the animal, Bob searched for a blood trail or any sign of a wounded creature. When he found nothing, he came back to camp.
My poor husband was nearly a basket case by the time he finished telling his story. The rest of us were silent too. Then mom spoke.
‘Bob, my father shot at a white deer in 1916, and he knew he had hit the deer, but could not find him. From what papa (my grandfather) learned from other hunters and cowboys in the area, others have shot at him as well with the same results. What all of you were shooting at was a ghost!’”