Not really, just a Doe with too mush testosterone.
Every now and then you hear about some poor hunter getting a citation from Fish and Wildlife for poaching one of these freaks of nature.
Like my neighbor claiming I shot one of his heifers, when in fact, it was a Jersey deer.



Kansas hunter Chuck Rorie, who has hunted since age 10, was shocked when he shot what he thought was a buck, only later to discover it was a doe with eight-point antlers, reports The Wichita Eagle.

Rorie, from Monroe, N.C., said: "I didn't think much about it; it just looked like a nice buck when I was watching it and shot it. But when I was skinning it I realized something didn't look right. It didn't have the right private parts. I whispered to my dad to look because I didn't want to sound like some (dummy). When he looked, said he saw (female parts), too. I'm tickled to death. I know this is a once in a lifetime thing."
http://www.youngcons.com/kansas-hunter-thought-shot-buck-saw-something-unusual/#lightbox/1/

Quote from: Solar on December 11, 2014, 06:18:19 AM
Not really, just a Doe with too mush testosterone.
Every now and then you hear about some poor hunter getting a citation from Fish and Wildlife for poaching one of these freaks of nature.
Like my neighbor claiming I shot one of his heifers, when in fact, it was a Jersey deer.



Kansas hunter Chuck Rorie, who has hunted since age 10, was shocked when he shot what he thought was a buck, only later to discover it was a doe with eight-point antlers, reports The Wichita Eagle.

Rorie, from Monroe, N.C., said: "I didn't think much about it; it just looked like a nice buck when I was watching it and shot it. But when I was skinning it I realized something didn't look right. It didn't have the right private parts. I whispered to my dad to look because I didn't want to sound like some (dummy). When he looked, said he saw (female parts), too. I'm tickled to death. I know this is a once in a lifetime thing."
http://www.youngcons.com/kansas-hunter-thought-shot-buck-saw-something-unusual/#lightbox/1/

This sort of thing happens with cattle also. Dad used to raise Herefords. We went about half a mile down the road one day to pick up a cow and her calf that Dad had bought from a neighbor. That cow had horns, straight ones about 7-8" long, and a bad disposition. Once we got them loaded in the trailer and got out on the road, the cow went so crazy she damn near turned the trailer over. When we got home and opened the trailer gate, she burst out of there looking for something to kill, leaving her horribly gored calf on the trailer floor in a pool of blood. We barely saved the calf, and she continued to nurse it. But that cow was a pain in the ass, attacking the other cattle whenever she took a notion.

I still remember the day we dragged her by the nose into the barn and locked her head in the stock for a little 'surgery.' While I held her head, Dad removed those damned horns with a meat saw and slopped some disinfectant goop on the stumps. Before it was done, we were both spattered with the blood that came zinging out of the stubbed horns.

When we turned her loose in the barnlot, she spied an adolescent steer minding his own business and grazing quietly by the fence. She put her head down and charged just like a bull in a cartoon, and hit that steer in the ribs at full gallop. Her squeal of pain was music to our ears! I laughed my ass off. She settled down quite a bit after that, and the horns never grew back.

Quote from: TboneAgain on December 11, 2014, 06:48:11 AM
This sort of thing happens with cattle also. Dad used to raise Herefords. We went about half a mile down the road one day to pick up a cow and her calf that Dad had bought from a neighbor. That cow had horns, straight ones about 7-8" long, and a bad disposition. Once we got them loaded in the trailer and got out on the road, the cow went so crazy she damn near turned the trailer over. When we got home and opened the trailer gate, she burst out of there looking for something to kill, leaving her horribly gored calf on the trailer floor in a pool of blood. We barely saved the calf, and she continued to nurse it. But that cow was a pain in the ass, attacking the other cattle whenever she took a notion.

I still remember the day we dragged her by the nose into the barn and locked her head in the stock for a little 'surgery.' While I held her head, Dad removed those damned horns with a meat saw and slopped some disinfectant goop on the stumps. Before it was done, we were both spattered with the blood that came zinging out of the stubbed horns.

When we turned her loose in the barnlot, she spied an adolescent steer minding his own business and grazing quietly by the fence. She put her head down and charged just like a bull in a cartoon, and hit that steer in the ribs at full gallop. Her squeal of pain was music to our ears! I laughed my ass off. She settled down quite a bit after that, and the horns never grew back.

The ranch I worked ran exclusively Hereford, only these weren't cattle for slaughter, theses were breeder stock, starting a 30 grand a head.
But what I never knew was, after all that selective breeding, it was normal to have polled several females and cauterize the area, something I hated doing, it was an all day event.
John, the owner said through selective breeding to create an even more docile animal, they screwed up the hormone track in both sexes.