Dead By Ned

I have gotten to know Ned Parker through my forestry classes at Iowa State. He showed some interest in the deer hunting scene and specifically wanted to try it with a bow. Nick and I have slowly but surely worked with him on all things bow and deer. His roommate Jon Jones is also a bow fanatic and it has helped in getting Ned out into the woods. Last year he struggled hard and never filled his tag. He was touting the PSE that Nick and I both harvested our first deer with but never fired a shot. He unfortunately broke the cable on it and decommissioned it for good. No harm no foul it just is.

Fast forward to this season. We have put Ned in the same stand over and over and he never got deer close enough. On the day after Ethan Shetler shot his buck, Ned went back to the same stand and his roommate Jon sat where Ned usually does. I was on a grocery run for Rachel when I got a call.

"I hit a buck."       "What!?!?!"        "I hit a buck. But not that good. I think. I think it was high and back. Maybe."   

Damn. That's never a good thing.
I told him to get out of there and get back to his car and we would go from there. I finished the grocery run and surprisingly to its completion. Ned went to Nick's where it was decided we were going to wait a few hours before we tracked him. We would be back around 11pm. Rachel was rather displeased with me but I still went to go track. Jon, Ned, Poindexter, and myself walked the mile in to begin the quest. We got to the stand and couldn't find blood to save our lives. Ned showed us where he thought it was standing. He told us after he shot, the buck just stood there, and eventually took a few steps before it bolted down into the willow swamp below. We looked down below and still found nothing. Nick doubled back and finally found good blood back at the top. Ned was completely turned around as to where he thought the buck was. We followed a great blood trail for about 200 yards before it started to turn into smears and specks. Another 100 yards and nothing. We finally found a bed. We followed the rest for about 20 feet and another bed. After that we ran dry. Doubling back Jon Jones found the arrow. No fletchings and a wad of frozen mud and guts and blood on the broadhead. It looked like good blood on the arrow and we knew this was a dead deer. We looked at what seemed like every angle from last blood and still found nothing. By now it was 2am. We called it and backed out. Nick had time early and he and Ned were going to look again in the morning.


First light was 6am giving them a little over 3 hours of sleep. They went right back to the last blood and found something interesting. We looked straight ahead, left, and even behind the line of trail this buck was following. They found that the buck doubled back and only went another 20 yards. At one point the previous night we could swear we could smell him. It was awesome they were able to find it.

This is Ned's first buck. Recovered on 11/11/11. We decided this buck is to be the Willow Buck and we would label it Dead by Ned.

 

After recovering the buck they both found that Ned's shot was much worse than originally thought. He thought high and a little back meaning paunch/liver hit. The arrow went in the right ham and came out underneath it next to his testicles. Poor shot indeed. The rage broadhead was attributed to the recovery of this one. Nick did the gutting for Ned and gagged his way through it. Being that they were well over a mile from the car, and it is uphill the entire way, they opted to hide the buck in the brush next to the river.

The ground was frozen and it was cool enough during the day that Nick came back and floated the buck out with his kayak. The river was low and he brought his waders and when needed he straddled it and paddled his way back to the boat ramp. This was a much better plan instead of having to drag the buck out. We were not going to go through that again.

 

That night was the beginning of deer camp as Michael Parker, Austin Freeseman, Mom, and Dad were in town and at Nick's place. We started camp with a deer on the pole (or Nick's deck). 

Congrats to Ned for harvesting his first deer and a fine buck to boot! Hopefully next year will treat you as well as this season has. But until then,

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Redemption is Sweet

Well, after my weekend at home of heartbreak and confusion I got back on the horse and got right back into the stand. Monday morning of the 7th (an exact year after Coleman's giant) my alarm sounded an hour after I set it. Thankfully, I set my alarm 45 early every day as I love the snooze button. I got my stuff and bolted. Got into the stand quietly and with 15 minutes before legal light. Beautiful morning. Sun was just about ready to show and turkeys start making their way down the ravine. I hear oak leaves crunch on a trail dead ahead of me and this time it is not turkeys. I swing my legs on the stand and look up to see a nice buck making his way right to me. He stops dead in his tracks and pegs me. His head bobs as he tries to pick me out of the skyline. He doubles back and is going right back from where he came, stops, and then turns around again to come down my trail. Every ten steps he stops and looks up at me. He finally commits and makes his way down the ridge to my opening. "Look thru the peep" says Rachel, "squeeze" I hear Nick tell me, "Loosen your death grip and take a breath" I tell myself. He stops in a basketball sized opening. I am already drawn back and decide to not shoot. Dad biffed a shot not waiting for the open shot, I will not do the same. He walks into my lane and stops. SMACK! A blast of sand behind him tells me complete pass thru. he runs up the side of the other ridge and stops 50 yards or so from my stand. He starts to sway, his tail goes up and starts pinwheeling, and he barrel rolls sideways into a downed tree bole. Redemption. Perfect shot placement on a nice buck feels nice.

I get out of my stand and go straight to him. I go to the top of the hill and get Nick to come help me take pics and drag him out. I sat at the hillside and soaked in the morning. A flock of speckle-bellies flew over, turkeys continued to scratch the leaves behind me.

Nick finally made it to me and we took some pics before dragging him out.

It felt good to put a nice buck on the ground, and eventually on the wall and freezer.

Nick helped me gut and start dragging the brute out. We soon figured out that this thing was stacked. Even gutted he was one of the heavier bucks we have harvested. We got to the ravine bottom and were already heaving trying to catch our breath. We had a goal to get him to a flat spot on the hill before taking a break. Just before the spot I slipped and all the weight went to Nick. POP. That was Nick's back. He crumpled to the ground and couldn't catch his breath. We eventually made our way slowly to the top of the hill without the buck and went to get the landowner's four-wheeler. We were given permission to use it the year before, yet we were too stubborn to use it the first time. I couldn't get it started and Nick was broken. I sent him home to have Lisa take him in to the doc. (Later we found that he completely dislocated a rib). A buddy of ours, Ethan Shetler, came and helped me with the four-wheeler and we got the buck out. What an odyssey. I packed him in ice and left him in Nick's garage and dealt with the rest that night.


The next Wednesday morning, Ethan shot a dandy basket out of our willow stand. We were unable to help him search for it or take pics. To shorten things up, he jumped it and it tried to cross the Des Moines River. He doubled back to Nick's to use the kayak to search. No find. He looked down stream to find this:

 

He died midstream and floated down river. He hung up in a tree in the river! This was a true adventure.

More stories to come. 

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Home Rut Camp

Went to Dike for the weekend and boy do we see deer. Friday evening I quick went to the beaver tree at the lower spot. Just at sundown I rattled and snorted in a basket. He came in all the way from about 70 yards to 10. On the walk out I was followed by a little buck. Saturday morning. I hit a nice buck in the same ash tree I shot Coleman's Giant out of last year this same weekend. This was a 3 yard shot quartering away. He jumped the creek and was out of sight. Half hour later Nick calls and says he shot a nice buck as well. Deja Vu. Same thing as last year, same weekend, same farms...Scary. We convene back at home and go back to find Nick's buck. Excellent blood for 100 yards, then it got dicey. We went 300 plus yards before we jumped him and lost site of him. We checked a pine stand, and Nick finds a funky little shed from this last winter. Cool find but not a deer. We back out to look later. We head over to Coleman's to recover my buck. We track the buck through the woods, into the corn, across the fence, and into another corn field. GREAT blood. He then did something I have never seen a deer do wounded; he crossed an entire bean field. I tracked him all the way to the next section. A mile to be exact. At this point I was sick. I backed out to come back later.

Nick went back out and eventually found his buck about 60 or 70 yards past where we left off the first time. Beautiful buck with some character.

At this time I was headed out to look again for my buck. I tracked for five hours. Some moments I was on my hands and knees. He eventually crossed the creek on the property and then dropped my arrow, again after about a mile and half. 50 more yards or so and that was that. No more blood, no more chance. Game over. At one point I was so close to the dirt I bumped my nose into a log, and this log turned into a nice shed. I backed out and decided to get back into the stand. Froze my ass off. I was soaked from deer tracking and had my coat and a t-shirt on. I have never been so cold.

An hour before sunset my beloved wife calls to chew me out for staying out in the cold. But wait? She shot a nice doe. Great shot and it didn't go far. We waited for everyone and tracked it 50-60 yards and found her in heap.

 

Two deer in one day is not too shabby. 

Next morning after church I got permission to go look one last time for my deer. I took Nick and Dad with me this time and we still found nothing. Oh well that hunting. I unfortunately know this buck is dead and I will never for the rest of my life understand what happened with this buck. It was a decent shot, close, and I was using a large broadhead. Nick attributes it to the shear will of the creature, I know this was God's work. He created shear will that mankind cannot understand. I was truly defeated by a magnificent animal. Dad, Nick, and I headed to my tree to grab my rattling antlers and to check the trail cam. Tons of black birds and shadows on it. One little buck close, and a great shot of a shot wide buck that was a for sure shooter. 

Upon comparison, I may have discovered something outstanding and in all honesty statistically impossible. The shed I found is most likely from the buck I shot from the big ash tree last year. The two properties aren't really that far apart and he was an older deer. 

I can't even begin to describe how cool this is. Yes, losing a deer is one of the worst feelings in the world, but this is unreal. This was a wonderful weekend and as I explained to my brother in law and to Michael Parker, bowhunting has some of the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. I am beyond proud of my wife for making a spectacular shot in her usual "there" fashion. I am proud of my brother for not giving up and being persistent as it paid off and got him his deer. I will be dumbfounded and sincerely humbled by the deer I killed this weekend. I will never see him again and I will never know what happened there. Can't wait to get back on the horse.



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Hunting ish

I have been so busy I no longer feel. I have had very little time to actually get into the stand but I have gotten to see some cool things. I have spent some time out with Rachel and even had the opportunity to shoot at a coyote. Never found it but Rachel ranked it right up there with one of the coolest encounters ever. Last weekend I rattled in two bucks who came in on a string. Tons of deer, turkeys, raccoons, and even some time out with th neighbor kids for youth hunts. No deer down yet but again too busy.

In a non hunting related note, Married life is great. Coming home to someone is awesome. Shitty day not so shitty anymore. We LOVE our fireplace and I know I don't have half as much firewood as we could burn this winter. School is going fair, and Rachel is surviving vet school. My jobs sucks more than I could have possibly imagine yet its better than my classes. Oh well, that's why I get outside I guess.


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Pheasant Camp 2011: Part 4 cont.

Note; watch Dad point towards the end of the video.
And I quote: "Keep your eyes peeled boys, this place has produced birds before." ROOSTER!

Three shots, three guys, of course we got that one. We continued on in the last stretch of the final push. Again at the base of valley, Mocha hit hard point. Flurry of feather again. Austin froze because he didn't know you could shoot them. Oops. Dad and I pulled out one each.

We ended the stretch tired and happy.

Rachel even took a picture of a knarled dead maple at the end of our trudge.

  

Back at camp we again took some photos. I requested Rachel take a picture of me with my single rooster and single partridge. I do believe this to be my first partridge as well. I wanted this tree because Dad took a picture of his first deer with a bow under this boxelder.

 

Here is our final group picture on the porch of the greatest camp I have had the privilege to hunt over the years.

I want to of course thank my Uncle Al for hosting another fabulous pheasant camp. I want to thank my Aunt Karin for both allowing us to trash the house :) and for seeing the grand-babies! (and for the spare inhaler, I an indebted to you for that).

Here are a few other pictures that just need to be posted.

What a camp.

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Pheasant Camp 2011: Part 4

Sunday morning, we woke up to cold and windy. In all honesty, this was was nothing we weren't prepared for. We were walking the east end of the section this time that consists of the deeper ravines and valleys. We pull birds out of this every year and this one was no exception. First bird to flush was right across Austin and I. I gave him an eternity to shoot and nothing happened so I took care of business. I don't ever get to gloat, but I really couldn't miss this trip.

It may not look like it but the next bird was on it's way down by the time I got any shots off. Austin and Dad were on the ball this time.

Again, the birds were holding close because of the stiff, cold, wind and the birds are down before many shots can be fired. My cousin Brian had radar lock on this one and made short work of it.

At one point we pulled down a bird but were unable to make an ideal shot, and we crippled a bird. The bird was marked but not dead. A busted leg would hopefully keep it down and let the dogs do the rest of the work. Rachel got footage of the result. Bird flies away without one of us bringing it down.

It was time to take on the other side. We crossed the creek and took a group photo.

We took our positions and Cuba, Al's pup went right to work flushing a big mature rooster that Uncle Paul Johnson and Al brought down swiftly. We slowly pushed our way forward and watched as Cuba again pushed a bird around. Hen this time but he worked hard for it. There was a pause then Mocha, Dad's pup went on a hard point. All hell broke loose as a covey of gray partridge broke from the side hill, a couple folded when all was said and done. There was a little island that Brian and Nick headed out to see if there were birds as years past had produced. We watched as many pheasants and a few partridge busted from a patch the size of a semi trailer and we marked one that landed. No birds for Nick and Brian but Austin and Dad found the marked partridge. From a distance we see the small upland bird flush, a POOF, and then hear two simultaneous shots. Too cool! We continue on our push and follow the dog as usual. We hit a spot and find a bird.



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Pheasant Camp 2011: Part 3

After the final push in the corn it was time to call it quits for the day. I collected the birds and herded the family for a group photo.

What a wonderful camp!

After picture time it was the usual clean the birds time. Nick and I rallied hard to go on a last hunt between the two of us, but we were refocused to bird cleaning. With the help of many in the crew it took us 15 minutes to clean everything. Some trap shooting and bow shooting filled the last gap of time until 6pm.

At 6pm we all collected ourselves and made it down to the fen.  The fen was the last place our beloved Jill retrieved a bird. She snuck out of the house behind Al and hobbled her way out to hunt with the rest. Uncle Al dropped a rooster and watched his dog work towards the bird in the tall grass, or so he thought. Our old grizzled Labrador lumbered into the harvest field, picked up the rooster, slowly made her way back to Al, and laid the bird at his feet. Couldn't have had a better last retrieve. Jill died this last spring and her ashes were placed in a box at home where they were stored until now. We held a ceremony with some fine whiskey, a toast to all faithful retrievers of the past, and a heart-string pulling poem read by my mother. We toasted to our dog, and then spread some of her ashes around the fen where she was able to have one last hunt.

After our ceremony we reconvened back up at the house. We were all together enjoying each others company and some of the best Venison Stew the Lord has bestowed upon us. Prepared by the hands of my mother we all stuffed ourselves with stew, bars, and more stew. Perfect batch. There is nothing better than a great day in the field and then coming back to a fabulous meal. Great food, great family. Doesn't get better than that.



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Pheasant Camp 2011: Part 2

After our first run of the morning we got back to the house and had us some lunch. Some of us sat out on the lawn and shot bow for awhile, while others napped. We finally reconvened for the second push of the day. I have few pics of this push as my camera was dead but I have some aftershots for later.
This was the push Poindexter decided to take along his longbow in hopes of at least getting a shot at a flushing rooster. We started the push and Uncle Rick and I doubled on a rooster. Later, Nick finally got a shot, missed, and then Grandpa smoked it with his Ithaca. Great start. I had two birds get out ahead of me, and Rick called hen but I knew the first one was a rooster. I missed my first and smoked him on the second. Long shot and the only person to shoot. I told you I couldn't miss with that gun. We were on the downslope of one hillside when we hear a shot below us, and then hear birdshot hissing through the prairie grass. I told Brian there is someone shooting at us, and then Dad tell the group there has been a guy on this private property for the majority of the hunt. Brian and Al head over and have a word with him. "Lost" he says. "sorry" he says for spraying us with birdshot. "Didn't know we were there". Idiot from the cities. We move on. Austin finally get his chance at a bird and drills an immature rooster which we don't locate per say. Oops. In the aftermath of that another rooster gets up and nick shoots with his bow. Miss. Brian and Austin pull it down for another bird in the bag. Redemption is good. Rick then flushed a bird the length of his beard hair and thus turns it into red mush. We end the run and start walking back to the house. A little prairie section off to the north is on the way back. The dogs got birdy and Nick followed all the way. A big, slow, beautiful rooster flushes right in front of him. Swing and a close miss. All we hear was "INCHES!" So close with that bow.
After we got back to the house before our last push of the day, I had to get a picture with Grandpa and our true single roosters. 

For the last push of the day we chose the cornfield behind the house and boy did that pay off. We were covered in birds. Al was worried about bird numbers. I can't tell you why. I was a constant flush of pheasants. Austin and I took the down wind side on the push down. No shots but tons of birds. We stayed their for the way back because I had a hunch. Again Rachel took some gems while we waited for birds.

 Austin and I with our bird!

More to come


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