Dale Earnhardt hunted more of this country than either Daniel Boone or Davy Crockett.
It started on pasture hills in North Carolina, following rabbit dogs with his father and uncles. Later he hunted trophy elk in dark canyons in Arizona with Indian acquaintances. They hunted where Geronimo, the great Apache chief, hid after insurrections against U.S. forces.
He hunted deer in the snow-covered evergreens of Michigan and in the thick brush country of Texas.
His success in the woods compared favorably with his success on America's racetracks. But the hunting trophy Earnhardt treasured most was a symmetrical 12-point white-tailed buck he harvested in 1979 in Blackstock, South Carolina-his first big deer.
Earnhardt was living near Charlotte on Lake Norman at the time. Lee Slater, a neighbor, talked him into joining a hunt club near Chester, South Carolina.
"Hal Houston, my father-in-law, was in the club, too. So, one day the two of us drove over to Blackstock to check out this lease," Earnhardt recalled. "We found a great place for a tree stand. It was a nice open hollow where no pines were growing, and you could see where several deer were crossing from one thicket to the other."
Houston, Earnhardt said, picked out a place where he wanted to put a stand, and the two put one up where he could see the hollow.
They drove into the place the next morning, using an old roadbed through the woods. Earnhardt joked with Houston about using the stand they had put up the day before. "He said, 'Naw, you go on over there to the edge of that clear-cut. They've been seeing a big buck over there.'
"I told Hal I was going to drive down to the end of the road, then walk off in the hollow, take my climbers and get up in the first pine tree I could find. He told me to go to the clear-cut, that it was too thick in the hollow where I was headed."
The road ended about half a mile beyond where Hal got out of the truck. Earnhardt stopped the truck about halfway to the end of the road. He got out his climbing gear and went off into the hollow and up a tree. Soon, he saw a covey of quail, working its way slowly down the hill and to the hollow.
"They worked their way close to the tree I was in, and I was watching the roosters and hens jump around about 20 yards from me," Earnhardt said. "Always one of them would run and jump on a limb and look all around while the others were feeding."
Then, suddenly, everything stopped. The woods became totally silent. The birds stopped feeding and began creeping away.
"I figured a fox or bobcat must be close by," Earnhardt said. "Then I just happened to glance down and right under the tree stood this 12-point buck. I mean, straight under the tree."
Earnhardt started trying to slip his rifle around without scaring the buck. He finally got it pointed down, but couldn't get the stock against his shoulder.
"I took a second to make sure I was doing this the best way I could, and then I pulled the trigger," Earnhardt said. "The lights went out. The recoil of the rifle sent the scope against my head, and it cut a big gash over my right eye. Not only that, but I was about to fall out of the tree. I got overbalanced leaning over the edge, and I was just barely hanging on with one arm."
Meanwhile, the deer ran. Earnhardt regained his balance and his composure. He got everything back together, but he couldn't find the deer.
"I got down on my stomach on a limb and looked all around," he said. "Every few minutes I wiped a big swat of blood out of my eye."
Earnhardt spotted the deer in a thicket about 50 yards away. He looked down the barrel of his rifle, using his left eye because his right eye was blinded by the blood.
"Finally, I thought I had his butt in the scope, so I pulled the trigger," Earnhardt said. "Again, I didn't have the stock against my shoulder, so the scope took the left side of my head off. I sat up and the blood was running down my nose on both sides."
Earnhardt climbed down the tree and walked over to a little knoll. There was his deer.
It was 9 o'clock and getting warm. Earnhardt began taking off clothes and throwing them in the truck. He loaded his climber and put his rifle in the case, and backed the truck as close as he could get it to the deer. By the time he got the big boy loaded, he was wet all over sweating.
Earnhardt tooted the truck's horn to get his father-in-law's attention.
"He walked up to the truck and said, 'What's wrong? I heard you shoot. What did you shoot, yourself?'
"Then he walked around behind the truck, and the next thing I heard was, 'Lord, have mercy, what a deer!'"