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- Apr 15, 2016
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Its been a very, very long deer season for me. Tomorrow marks the end, 6 weeks. Not a lot of deer right here where I hunt. If there are, the gun season sends them deep into the hills. The setter wonders about me I think.
Some days I go 1/2 mile out the back door. Other days I'll walk 3 miles each way. Not much for sign, or trails, or tails. Picking a spot, you will always second guess yourself. Its like looking for owls on a morning none are hooting. Sit and hope.
Faced with eating tag soup I hit the woods again tonight. Hunting pressure has forced me to watch squirrels for up to 8 days at a time with no deer. Just too much woods, no fields, no reason for them to show at all.
I ended up in a spot for the nights hunt just 100' or less from where I've shot two bucks over 200lbs. Settled in against a boulder in the woods, wind in my face, looking up hill to a jungle of brush. On a good night early in the season you can hear them stir up there, but wont come down. Right now, no deer here. Not for 2 weeks at least. I closed my eyes, layed back, and let my mind wander to how I would hunt on Saturday. With the first snow of the year coming in after lunch I will stay out all day. Second guessing myself again over where I should hunt.
Traffic sounds from miles away seem deafening as white noise after a while. I should hunt so far out I will never hear it at all, I tell myself. The squirrels go quiet at sundown. Birds too.
Then, in between the noise of distant cars I hear the rustle of leafs. Sounds off to my right. I turn slowly to see nothing. Nothing at all. Turning back to the hill I've been had. A deer is coming in from the hill right at me! It was the echo that fooled me as to the direction.
This deer sees me as a thing, but I don't think as a human thing. No panic, he looks behind himself. I lift the Lancaster. He looks back. I freeze. He looks behind again. I go to full cock. He looks at me. I freeze.
Then he turns and walks to the right. Not nervous, just resuming the walk to where he thought he was off to. At 50 yards, 20 minutes after sunset (legal here), I cant see my front sight! As he passes by some 10" trees I hold off. This has all the makings of failure. The openings are 9" at best. Instead, I pan to the right to a larger 30" opening ahead of him. I'm now slightly moving the barrel in small circles so I can see the front sight as it passes by the rear sight.
He steps into the window, the Lancaster sends a .490 round ball with 75 grains 3F just behind the front shoulder. It loges into his spine on the uphill shot. Missed the front leg, tenderloin and backstrap. The kind of shot you wish for on a clear morning.
Back home, the setter knows. He can smell it. Dad is down for a hot shower and a porter. He gets some in his bowl in a few days. Meat, not porter.
Not the biggest. This one went about 160lbs. But to shoot it just feet from the last two I harvested was magical.
Just a small, non descript spot in the woods that saved me from eating tag soup.
I like venison stew better. Don't you?
Some days I go 1/2 mile out the back door. Other days I'll walk 3 miles each way. Not much for sign, or trails, or tails. Picking a spot, you will always second guess yourself. Its like looking for owls on a morning none are hooting. Sit and hope.
Faced with eating tag soup I hit the woods again tonight. Hunting pressure has forced me to watch squirrels for up to 8 days at a time with no deer. Just too much woods, no fields, no reason for them to show at all.
I ended up in a spot for the nights hunt just 100' or less from where I've shot two bucks over 200lbs. Settled in against a boulder in the woods, wind in my face, looking up hill to a jungle of brush. On a good night early in the season you can hear them stir up there, but wont come down. Right now, no deer here. Not for 2 weeks at least. I closed my eyes, layed back, and let my mind wander to how I would hunt on Saturday. With the first snow of the year coming in after lunch I will stay out all day. Second guessing myself again over where I should hunt.
Traffic sounds from miles away seem deafening as white noise after a while. I should hunt so far out I will never hear it at all, I tell myself. The squirrels go quiet at sundown. Birds too.
Then, in between the noise of distant cars I hear the rustle of leafs. Sounds off to my right. I turn slowly to see nothing. Nothing at all. Turning back to the hill I've been had. A deer is coming in from the hill right at me! It was the echo that fooled me as to the direction.
This deer sees me as a thing, but I don't think as a human thing. No panic, he looks behind himself. I lift the Lancaster. He looks back. I freeze. He looks behind again. I go to full cock. He looks at me. I freeze.
Then he turns and walks to the right. Not nervous, just resuming the walk to where he thought he was off to. At 50 yards, 20 minutes after sunset (legal here), I cant see my front sight! As he passes by some 10" trees I hold off. This has all the makings of failure. The openings are 9" at best. Instead, I pan to the right to a larger 30" opening ahead of him. I'm now slightly moving the barrel in small circles so I can see the front sight as it passes by the rear sight.
He steps into the window, the Lancaster sends a .490 round ball with 75 grains 3F just behind the front shoulder. It loges into his spine on the uphill shot. Missed the front leg, tenderloin and backstrap. The kind of shot you wish for on a clear morning.
Back home, the setter knows. He can smell it. Dad is down for a hot shower and a porter. He gets some in his bowl in a few days. Meat, not porter.
Not the biggest. This one went about 160lbs. But to shoot it just feet from the last two I harvested was magical.
Just a small, non descript spot in the woods that saved me from eating tag soup.
I like venison stew better. Don't you?
