Record mount survives two close calls

With a possible new Ontario record whitetail, it seems like a good time to revisit the story of Hugh Reehill’s deer — which was shot in 1958, but not recognized as a record until 1996. The Lindsay resident was hunting in the Parry Sound area with members of the Peterborough-Lakefield Hunt Club as part of an assembly of relatives and friends that included Elmer Flynn, who would become his best friend. Members had to apply to join, and if accepted, only got a spot when an existing member dropped out. It took four consecutive hunts to achieve full membership. Peterborough-Lakefield Hunt Club Reehill’s first year was 1958. Not knowing the lay of the land, he asked camp captain Wallace Thurston to choose a watch for him. After a 20-minute walk, he settled into a swail in a clearing with a small ridge to the north, classic Canadian bush to the east and south, and in the west, a thicket of four-foot spruce trees. They were hunting with dogs and Reehill soon heard barking steadily increasing in volume to the point where he got himself ready to shoot. The dogs kept moving past his watch, however, and their excited barks began to fade. Disappointed, he relaxed until he heard a twig snap from the spruce thicket. Glancing up, he could see — just above the tree tops — a set of antlers moving his way. As the animal advanced, the spread of the rack indicated it was a moose, not a deer. Let down again, and with no one in camp holding a moose licence, Reehill sat back to watch the moose come through, but it never did appear. Instead, a magnificent whitetail buck trotted into the swail and was downed with one shot. Back at camp, the rest of the hunting party were not that impressed with the deer. They pointed out that Reehill had actually shot a larger deer the day before. In fact, no one had any second thoughts about including it in the traditional “draw for deer” where everyone took home an animal, though not necessarily the one they shot. Fortunately, Reehill drew his own number, and if he hadn’t, what would become an Ontario record might have gone unrecognized. Dad's trophy mount Fast forward to 1993. Nick Flynn, the 35-year-old son of Elmer Flynn, has grown up seeing, and hearing the story of, his dad’s friend’s