BigSlapper
11-29-2008, 10:10 PM
So … my grandfather, having endured the depression years, living off the land and “eating what you kill”, always espoused “nothing good ever comes easy”. It was part of his creed, but that’s a story for another day. I’m pretty sure as a 15 year old I never quite understood what he was getting at as there were always steaks in our freezer and a car to drive me to the rink. He certainly caught me rolling my eyes many times while he went off “half baked” about the “youth of today” and “when I was your age” blah, blah, blah. Well gramps, I’m now 45 and you’ve long since passed on, I think of you every day and I’ve had some time to reflect on the lessons you passed along - and you were right … nothing good ever comes easy .
And so begins my lengthy tale …
I had planned well in advance for a 7 day late September trip into Region 3, and if I was skunked, a late October return trip. My thought was this would be ample time to fill both Mulie and White Tail tags. The area I planned to hunt had both … and the odd October spike/fork moose to keep things interesting. One thing is certain however, and that is we can never count on the weather. Generally we have to take what we get. Well, what I got in late September and late October were some of the most beautiful tropical breezes imaginable. Hell, 2 of the days in October I hunted in shorts and a t-shirt! Go figure. No bigger animals-no movement … nothing but a few bruins, a thousand grouse and a bunch of small deer. Heading back home empty handed, not once but twice, did not sit well. I made up my mind that I was going to put in some time and work to make things happen. I immediately planned my 3rd trip, 2 weeks out (November 10th), in order to coincide with the rut. Or at least that was the thinking. I packed the truck and camper and pulled into my area on the 10th, some 3 ½ hours later only to experience 12 degree temps – in mid November! Couple that with learning the rut was behind schedule by at least a week or maybe two, made for another miserable empty handed drive back home, 3 days later.
And so now it was “game on”.
Thrice daily on-line weather checks, phone calls to locals, anything I could do to get a leg up. Finally the forecast called for ‘flurries” November 24th, overnight temps were in the minus teens and there was sign the rut was picking up pace. Hiking into my area the morning of the 24th, I acknowledged this was more like it. I hunted hard the entire day. I saw a 3x3 and two smaller 2x2’s along with 10 or so does. The cool temps had definitely kicked everything into gear. Rubs, scrapes, urine, nervous does … all the goodies one wants and expects to see, just no snow. The 25th dawned cold and overcast with a good deal of wind and my high hopes of snow. I picked out numerous deer throughout the morning, seeing for the second time both small 2x2’s, 8 to 10 does and the south end of a north bound buck, high tailing it to anywhere but close to me. I couldn’t count points fast enough but I certainly recognized the wide spread. Proof they were around, just not showing themselves. Gramps always said “they don’t grow big by being stupid”. I had decided to hunt the whole day through, having my pack full of grub and essentials. Around 1:00 pm I bumped into a moose cow and calf … we played Mexican stand-off, at 75 yards, for 10 minutes until they went on there way. Neat. I made the mental note to check the LEH regs and perhaps try my luck with the “lottery” – a surprising amount of moose sign and even a couple live ones for next year. Looking to the sky and hoping for snow, I decided to make my way down “main street” of the slash I was in and, following the main skidder trail in the wide open, I set up at the back end facing into the wind. To hell if the deer that I had already seen, saw me, I was holding out for the big boy who I hoped would make his way from the timber out into the open. At least that was the plan. For the next two hours I sat shivering in my make-shift ground blind (-10 and windy) wondering what the hell I was doing, where was the snow, and damn, those wolves that are howling sure seem to be getting mighty close. I wondered if the deer thought this as well? It was 4:00 pm and I was actually thinking about packing it in when higher up in the corner of the draw, I caught movement. As if by magic he had just appeared, walking out of the timber to present himself on the ridge. I could see his rack from where I sat and needed only a 2 second binocular check to confirm 4 solid points on both sides and a big body. Unfortunately it always happens one is seldom fully prepared and of course I had not set up my shooting sticks for quick action. So, gun up, deer in scope, confirm again the 4 points, safety off, a split second wondering if the slight waver would affect the shot (shut out the thought and trust in your training), deep breath, hold … BOOM.
Now those of us that have killed deer know the sound of a solid hit. This I heard. We also know a solid hit by the way the animal reacts. This was demonstrated by the buck’s 3 foot leap in the air, hunched back, and legs wind-milling mid air looking to touch down and take off. This, I also witnessed. I knew I had hit him hard. It was 4:10 pm and I had about 20 minutes of light left and apparently a lot of hard work ahead of me. I didn’t yet realize how true this would be. I made my way slowly over to the opposite ridge to find my prize which I expected would be close to the point of impact. I found blood, but no deer. By this time it was quite dark so I “installed” my headlamp and found myself walking overlapping circles in a 300 yard area, trying to find my buck. I knew he could not have gone far and that the Barnes TSX bullet (130 gr.) I used, would do it’s job as it had always done. Back to the circles. The circles went on for over an hour. I’m not sure of the record for dropping “f-bombs” in a one hour period while walking circles wearing a headlamp - but I think I now own it. It became evident that I was not going to find this deer alone (yup, did I say I was hunting alone?) in the pitch black and that I would have to come back at first light. I was also worried about the wolves that were yapping and barking off in the distance. Free meals don’t come around too often for a wolf. Stopping in to see the good folks at Tunkwa Lake Resort on the way out of the bush, Rich offered to head out on his Rhino with me at first light. I took him up on the offer and arranged to meet at the resort the next morning.
Waking up at 5:30 and looking out the camper door, I was distressed to find 4 inches of snow had fallen and would obviously hamper my chances of finding my deer. Go figure! When you want it you don’t get it … when you don’t, well …
On the way back in to find my buck, with 4 inches of fresh powder, it was one of those magical mornings. Blue sky, no wind, -15, fresh snow and probably 100+ sets of fresh tracks over the kilometers we covered. It was a rough area to get the Rhino into but I had instant respect for what these vehicles can do. When close, I quickly outlined to Rich, where I had shot from, the point of impact and the direction the buck took off when hit. No sooner had I finished setting the stage for Rich, when I had turned back to continue looking and saw the “rack” laying in the snow. I couldn’t believe my luck as I was sure, with the new snow and a lost blood trail, that it was going to be 50/50 finding the damn thing.
Well, some work getting it out (265 lbs), a couple 8:30 am celebratory cold brews, a new mount for the wall and the thought of backstraps and landesjeager sausage … should keep me going until next season.
Thanks Rich for your help … and JohnK – the world needs more folk like you. A sincere thank you.
And so begins my lengthy tale …
I had planned well in advance for a 7 day late September trip into Region 3, and if I was skunked, a late October return trip. My thought was this would be ample time to fill both Mulie and White Tail tags. The area I planned to hunt had both … and the odd October spike/fork moose to keep things interesting. One thing is certain however, and that is we can never count on the weather. Generally we have to take what we get. Well, what I got in late September and late October were some of the most beautiful tropical breezes imaginable. Hell, 2 of the days in October I hunted in shorts and a t-shirt! Go figure. No bigger animals-no movement … nothing but a few bruins, a thousand grouse and a bunch of small deer. Heading back home empty handed, not once but twice, did not sit well. I made up my mind that I was going to put in some time and work to make things happen. I immediately planned my 3rd trip, 2 weeks out (November 10th), in order to coincide with the rut. Or at least that was the thinking. I packed the truck and camper and pulled into my area on the 10th, some 3 ½ hours later only to experience 12 degree temps – in mid November! Couple that with learning the rut was behind schedule by at least a week or maybe two, made for another miserable empty handed drive back home, 3 days later.
And so now it was “game on”.
Thrice daily on-line weather checks, phone calls to locals, anything I could do to get a leg up. Finally the forecast called for ‘flurries” November 24th, overnight temps were in the minus teens and there was sign the rut was picking up pace. Hiking into my area the morning of the 24th, I acknowledged this was more like it. I hunted hard the entire day. I saw a 3x3 and two smaller 2x2’s along with 10 or so does. The cool temps had definitely kicked everything into gear. Rubs, scrapes, urine, nervous does … all the goodies one wants and expects to see, just no snow. The 25th dawned cold and overcast with a good deal of wind and my high hopes of snow. I picked out numerous deer throughout the morning, seeing for the second time both small 2x2’s, 8 to 10 does and the south end of a north bound buck, high tailing it to anywhere but close to me. I couldn’t count points fast enough but I certainly recognized the wide spread. Proof they were around, just not showing themselves. Gramps always said “they don’t grow big by being stupid”. I had decided to hunt the whole day through, having my pack full of grub and essentials. Around 1:00 pm I bumped into a moose cow and calf … we played Mexican stand-off, at 75 yards, for 10 minutes until they went on there way. Neat. I made the mental note to check the LEH regs and perhaps try my luck with the “lottery” – a surprising amount of moose sign and even a couple live ones for next year. Looking to the sky and hoping for snow, I decided to make my way down “main street” of the slash I was in and, following the main skidder trail in the wide open, I set up at the back end facing into the wind. To hell if the deer that I had already seen, saw me, I was holding out for the big boy who I hoped would make his way from the timber out into the open. At least that was the plan. For the next two hours I sat shivering in my make-shift ground blind (-10 and windy) wondering what the hell I was doing, where was the snow, and damn, those wolves that are howling sure seem to be getting mighty close. I wondered if the deer thought this as well? It was 4:00 pm and I was actually thinking about packing it in when higher up in the corner of the draw, I caught movement. As if by magic he had just appeared, walking out of the timber to present himself on the ridge. I could see his rack from where I sat and needed only a 2 second binocular check to confirm 4 solid points on both sides and a big body. Unfortunately it always happens one is seldom fully prepared and of course I had not set up my shooting sticks for quick action. So, gun up, deer in scope, confirm again the 4 points, safety off, a split second wondering if the slight waver would affect the shot (shut out the thought and trust in your training), deep breath, hold … BOOM.
Now those of us that have killed deer know the sound of a solid hit. This I heard. We also know a solid hit by the way the animal reacts. This was demonstrated by the buck’s 3 foot leap in the air, hunched back, and legs wind-milling mid air looking to touch down and take off. This, I also witnessed. I knew I had hit him hard. It was 4:10 pm and I had about 20 minutes of light left and apparently a lot of hard work ahead of me. I didn’t yet realize how true this would be. I made my way slowly over to the opposite ridge to find my prize which I expected would be close to the point of impact. I found blood, but no deer. By this time it was quite dark so I “installed” my headlamp and found myself walking overlapping circles in a 300 yard area, trying to find my buck. I knew he could not have gone far and that the Barnes TSX bullet (130 gr.) I used, would do it’s job as it had always done. Back to the circles. The circles went on for over an hour. I’m not sure of the record for dropping “f-bombs” in a one hour period while walking circles wearing a headlamp - but I think I now own it. It became evident that I was not going to find this deer alone (yup, did I say I was hunting alone?) in the pitch black and that I would have to come back at first light. I was also worried about the wolves that were yapping and barking off in the distance. Free meals don’t come around too often for a wolf. Stopping in to see the good folks at Tunkwa Lake Resort on the way out of the bush, Rich offered to head out on his Rhino with me at first light. I took him up on the offer and arranged to meet at the resort the next morning.
Waking up at 5:30 and looking out the camper door, I was distressed to find 4 inches of snow had fallen and would obviously hamper my chances of finding my deer. Go figure! When you want it you don’t get it … when you don’t, well …
On the way back in to find my buck, with 4 inches of fresh powder, it was one of those magical mornings. Blue sky, no wind, -15, fresh snow and probably 100+ sets of fresh tracks over the kilometers we covered. It was a rough area to get the Rhino into but I had instant respect for what these vehicles can do. When close, I quickly outlined to Rich, where I had shot from, the point of impact and the direction the buck took off when hit. No sooner had I finished setting the stage for Rich, when I had turned back to continue looking and saw the “rack” laying in the snow. I couldn’t believe my luck as I was sure, with the new snow and a lost blood trail, that it was going to be 50/50 finding the damn thing.
Well, some work getting it out (265 lbs), a couple 8:30 am celebratory cold brews, a new mount for the wall and the thought of backstraps and landesjeager sausage … should keep me going until next season.
Thanks Rich for your help … and JohnK – the world needs more folk like you. A sincere thank you.