DEER HUNTING IS RARELY EXCITING
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| Calhoun, MO |
My mom knew I loved the woods and she knew Jesus watches over her little huntress... as I venture out every fall. I miss her.
Everyone had eaten Christmas dinner, I was ten or so, six inches of snow on the ground. Iowa white Christmases were as common as cardinals calling outside my bedroom window, their red a vibrant contrast to a snow-topped evergreen tree. My brother and sisters chased each other in the snow. We were happy to be outside with all the grownups inside. My memories of those frigid Iowa days make me miss the woods so much, my foot hoisted on top of the sofa.
I longed to to go hunting and fishing this year more than ever. I missed hunting for three years while recuperating from reconstructive surgeries and my foot in a cast in 2015. Hunting and the woods is my church. Anyone who loves and respects God's green earth knows what hunting does for a person's soul. It's not the thrill or bang of a powerful rifle...
Winter hunt slow as a turtle--
Deer hunting is rarely exciting, at times not fun at all. In late December, it's alternate season, my weapon is a muzzleloader. I dress against the cold, tuck a snack into my backpack, wear long johns, warm, Thinsulate gloves, jacket layers, comfortable, wool socks and 1100 Thinsulate boots. All that would make a penguin sweat. TV sports shows make it look as they're so toasty and tromp easily through snow, never getting frostbite or icy beards. Not so.
Ed and I take turns driving two hours to the spot - I drive there, Ed drives home or vice-versa.
We nickname different spots; I was optimistic. Early bow season Ed saw 2 big bucks there at the 'fucked-with-the-ground-blind' spot. I spooked two deer walking in. Dammit. I sat for three hours watching for any sign of them returning or a buck tracing them. I was too anxious, tried to slow my breaths to calm down. I got up, trying to follow their path but the sticker bushes were so thick I got tangled up and stopped to cool off in a tiny elm thicket -- in 30 degree sun. Sweating, I peeled off my heavy jacket and sat on my folding chair a spell.
Ed and I take turns driving two hours to the spot - I drive there, Ed drives home or vice-versa.
We nickname different spots; I was optimistic. Early bow season Ed saw 2 big bucks there at the 'fucked-with-the-ground-blind' spot. I spooked two deer walking in. Dammit. I sat for three hours watching for any sign of them returning or a buck tracing them. I was too anxious, tried to slow my breaths to calm down. I got up, trying to follow their path but the sticker bushes were so thick I got tangled up and stopped to cool off in a tiny elm thicket -- in 30 degree sun. Sweating, I peeled off my heavy jacket and sat on my folding chair a spell.
Double checking my iOS phone map, I sent Ed my location. He sent me his. Only 500 yards across the field. I could not see his ground blind but I did make out a deer's shape just inside the trees edge. I was relieved I hadn't shot in haste, according to my phone map, my husband was too close within the bullet's range. Dammit again. It would have been an easy shot and even a muzzie bullet can inadvertently kill if the shot zips through the tangled limbs of timber. She stood inside the heavy brush for a moment then flipped her tail and jumped deeper into the timber right past Ed's ground blind - he told me he didn't see it. She bounded to safety, never acted spooked.
No experienced hunter will take a butt shot and a muzzleloader can't shoot thru that brush like my 243, even if I did take it.
No experienced hunter will take a butt shot and a muzzleloader can't shoot thru that brush like my 243, even if I did take it.
My lightweight boots carved through the berry bushes and oak saplings toward the edge of the timber, working my way to the opposite side of the woods, safely from my husband working the weeds across the field. I set down again across the woods under a large oak tree. I focused the binoculars on several spots a deer might come through.
I ate a snack of cinnamon bread. I watched squirrels play, used my buck call a little bit. I took off my boots, inserted the sticky toe warmers, retied my boots. Quietly slipped on my heavy jacket again. It was not windy but the shade of the timber penetrated my body with falling winter's chill. There,
I sat calmly in a field. 100 yards or so behind me was a plateau of 30 foot
cliffs above the lake water where Eagles roost in the sycamores overlooking the water. We had paddled the canoe below the
cliffs last summer bass fishing. Usually teeming with deer and turkey, deer
prints tell promised of a huge buck. Ed and I killed 6 deer there in five years. No opportunity this day.
It's amazing how the day's chill would be impenetrable to a deer. Wildlife does not need to acclimate. Almost sunset, after three hours sitting, I was cold and didn't want to walk in the dark, timber is so very different in daylight, easy to get lost in deepening nightfall. I texted Ed I was done, walked the mile back to the Jeep. I felt so good to be able, after months with a broken ankle and breast surgery recuperates during the past year. I choked up with the emotion of a day outdoors. Ed soon caught up, gun in hand.
It's amazing how the day's chill would be impenetrable to a deer. Wildlife does not need to acclimate. Almost sunset, after three hours sitting, I was cold and didn't want to walk in the dark, timber is so very different in daylight, easy to get lost in deepening nightfall. I texted Ed I was done, walked the mile back to the Jeep. I felt so good to be able, after months with a broken ankle and breast surgery recuperates during the past year. I choked up with the emotion of a day outdoors. Ed soon caught up, gun in hand.
Someone had left most of a deer's bones in a pile in the parking lot, coyotes had started dragging them away. Disgusting. It's so disappointing that some people have such disrespect on public land. Even a mile into the timber there was an empty beer can crumpled in the leaves near my tree. Another hunter's trash.
I wanted to take my grandkids there, it was not so popular early season spot because of the mile-long trek to those hidden deer hangouts. Too much work hauling a tree stand. But, it's too far for a young lil' hunter to walk as well... trudging through weeds and some mud-holes. That's why turkeys live in it. Years earlier, I flung my first arrows in an attempt to kill a turkey with its flock. I laughed at my own lack of skill, willing to try just for shits 'n grins. I've since killed a deer with a new Bowtech, elsewhere. Live and learn. After many hours of practice and sore arms.
My Christmas Day 2015... a reprieve from breast cancer.
Wondering why that nickname? 2013, we set up our ground blind on the edge of the farthest patch of woods (mile and 1/2 walk), sat waiting for deer to show till dusk. None. Being such a far trek back to the truck, we opted to leave the blind till morning. "It'll be okay" Next morning, we returned well before dawn, Ed used his climber, I sat in the blind. Two hours passed and no sign of deer nor turkey. I was puzzled why. I unzipped the blind and stepped out and gasped. There, just 3 feet from my boot was a big gut pile. I quickly glanced around for any other mess. I found a big rip in the blind; someone had cut into the back side-- wth cut it? I texted Ed, tore it down, put the blind back into the bag, undisturbed on the ground. Some A**** had poached that big-boy in MY blind in the middle of the night! Once back to the parking lot we saw they'd even moved a boulder from the edge of the gravel lot too. That made no sense, because there's plenty of room to maneuver a truck. Hence that spot is dubbed 'fucked-with-the-ground-blind' spot. So, lately if I go there alone, I carry my pistol too.
My Christmas Day 2015... a reprieve from breast cancer.
Wondering why that nickname? 2013, we set up our ground blind on the edge of the farthest patch of woods (mile and 1/2 walk), sat waiting for deer to show till dusk. None. Being such a far trek back to the truck, we opted to leave the blind till morning. "It'll be okay" Next morning, we returned well before dawn, Ed used his climber, I sat in the blind. Two hours passed and no sign of deer nor turkey. I was puzzled why. I unzipped the blind and stepped out and gasped. There, just 3 feet from my boot was a big gut pile. I quickly glanced around for any other mess. I found a big rip in the blind; someone had cut into the back side-- wth cut it? I texted Ed, tore it down, put the blind back into the bag, undisturbed on the ground. Some A**** had poached that big-boy in MY blind in the middle of the night! Once back to the parking lot we saw they'd even moved a boulder from the edge of the gravel lot too. That made no sense, because there's plenty of room to maneuver a truck. Hence that spot is dubbed 'fucked-with-the-ground-blind' spot. So, lately if I go there alone, I carry my pistol too.