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I met Roger when we were both working at the Canadian International Mill in Gatineau, Quebec, in 1963.    We became good friends, and I invited him to join us for hunting season in the late 1960s. He has been hunting with us ever since.  Roger  already had a lot of hunting experience, and he had shot deer just about every year from the time he was 18 years old.  He has a huge collection of whitetail to his credit, and was a key member in a number of  successful moose hunts. Roger was part of the “Deer Yard Crew,” and went with us into the winter deer yards to open up trails and cut cedar for the deer during bad winters.  Roger always had a camera with him, and took some great pictures during those years.

Roger is a very, very quiet individual.  He speaks softly, moves smoothly, and never seems to get excited or angry about anything.  But he is very aggressive when hunting deer.  He is fit, tireless and persistent, and an excellent woodsman.  Roger is a gentleman, and absolutely reliable.  He and my brother Rick are the two persons I would want with me if I were in trouble in the woods. 

Among all of our guys, the opinion is that Roger is the best shot, whether the deer is close or far, running or standing.  Roger still hunts with his .30/06 Remington that he had when he first came to hunt with us about 40 years ago, and he’s never used a scope.


Roger Morin and I have been friends for many years.  We are the same age, and both of us started hunting very young.  Although we fished and ran beagles together, and spent a lot of time in the woods, year-round, most of all we were true whitetail fanatics, and the chase was everything.

On beautiful frosty fall day in the mid-1980s, we decided to drive Merritt’s Hill first thing in the morning.  There was about three inches of  frozen snow crunching and crackling underfoot.  My brothers Rick and Rolly would be the walkers, and Roger and I would be posted on two of the best runways on that hill.  Without hesitation, Roger suggested that I cover the big gully, and he would take care of the runway closest to a nearby field.

Because still hunting over that kind of frozen snow cover was impossible, Rick would drive the top of the hill, hoping to move something down to us, and Rolly would do the same, down lover and along the swamp.  Merritt’s Hill is a big expanse, and there is room for three more walkers than we had that day.  We knew that this would be a hard-driving, noisy chase, and any deer moving would be on the run, flags high.

I moved as quietly as I could to my chosen spot.  I had been in position for about thirty minutes when I was surprised by an explosion of noise not far ahead, but out of sight in the bush.  I quickly realized that more than one deer had been bedded down in front of me, and had taken off when they heard all the crackling and crunching as Rick moved down the hill.  I knew from their direction that I would not see those deer.

There were two bucks bedded there, one an average 8-pinner, and the other a really big 8-pinner.  The smaller one tried to cut back, and ran into Rolly, who fired what he knew to be a solid shot.  The buck was badly hit, but continued running and disappeared from Rolly’s view.  He heard two shots from Roger’s spot, and figured Roger had finished off the wounded buck. Rick came down to me, and we worked our way toward Roger and Rolly.  Before we got there, we could hear them having a loud and excited discussion.  The story was:

Roger downed a big 8-pinner that was running full out, right toward him.  That buck dropped at his feet, and he put a second shot into it. Rolly was arguing that “I hit that sucker back there near the swamp, and it ran to you.”  Roger was trying to explain that the buck he shot was running full tilt, and showed no signs of a hit. The only two holes in it were Roger’s.

After discussing and arguing, Rick convinced Rolly to back with him.  We thought that probably there were two bucks, and sure enough, this was the end result, to Rolly’s satisfaction.  Rick left to pick up Mom, to bring her to the scene.  She was alone at the Buckshack, and loved getting out into the bush to admire our success.  We have a video of this event, and it will always be a hunt to remember.