The only piebald deer I've ever seen was shot by the 14 year friend of my son. Seems I took the boys hunting one Sunday afternoon; and because this kid was a bit leery of a climbing stand, I put him in my ladder stand (this was the first time this boy had ever been deer hunting). After I was sure he was fixed and safe, I went to my climbing stand; and as I was going up the tree heard him shoot. Fearful that he had shot himself, I rushed back to my ladder stand to find a beautiful 6-pt piebald buck dead on the ground beneath the tree. I expressed my joy at his success; but in all honestly, inwardly I was a bit miffed as that rare deer was supposed to have been mine! My son dragged the buck out of the woods; and wanting this kid to appreciate and enjoy the full experience of his outdoors adventure, I insisted that he gut the deer (under my professional supervision, of course). In "unzipping" the buck, the kid managed to puncture the stomach, was subsequently sprayed by an explosion of green and stinking stomach contents; and was instantly reduced to a gagging wimp little "girl" creature rolling around and puking in the leaves. When the boy recovered his composure it was dark, so I told my son to hold the flashlight and I'd finish the surgery with the understanding that my new "trainee" watch closely so that I never had to do this for him again! As the kid knelt down closer and closer (at my insistence of course) to insure he fully understood all the nuances of this surgical procedure, I reached into the body cavity with cupped hands, then splashed a half pint of warm red deer blood from the boy's chin to his belt line. The gagging was now mixed with curses. Late that evening, we finally arrived at the boy's home, I personally delivered this boy to the front door of his home; and you should have seen the expression on his old man's face (his old man did not like the idea of hunting) when he saw all that blood! I then calmly explained that the boy had accidentally fallen out of the tree stand, fortunately suffering only a superficial cut in the process; and that his son's injury was not nearly as severe as those blood stains would seem to indicate. Well, without getting too deep into ensuing details, his old man did not appreciate my woodsy sense of humor; which to me, was a bit sad. However, I was never invited to take this kid hunting again; nor have I ever seen another wild piebald buck (or deer!) in the 23 deer seasons since.
