Not Fred

Morning of the 17th Rachel and I hunted Coleman's in the new ladder stand that Dad and Michael put up in a multi-stemmed maple just east of the corner. It was not seriously cold, but it was cold compared to what we had been used to. We weren't able to sit long, but for what time we did, I rattled on the ground beneath Rachel. I hadn't rattled for 5 minutes when a really nice basket showed his face. He was on our side of the creek and then crossed to use the wind to his advantage. He is the same buck that both Dad and Michael have seen there, but he was having none of our game once he winded us. Shortly after seeing him we headed out.

I spent the afternoon working on little things back at the ranch with Michael, and with the wind as it was, I almost decided to call it. I asked Rachel if she was hunting that night, and I no more than sent my text and she came over the hill. Can't fault her sheer will....

I really didn't know my plan as I was tagged out and the place we were hunting was going to be difficult to just sit without messing up Michael or Rachel. We walked the dry creek bed all the way to the stand Rachel was to set up in. We let her get into her stand and then turned down the next dry creek to Michael's set up. I figured I would just walk the creek the rest of the way up and sit in the willows in hopes of popping a coyote with my .17. I got half the way there when Michael claps at me and points towards the willows. There was an SUV parked next to the spot I was going to sit.
Shit.
I called Dad and he said trappers. I figured things would just have to work itself out. They pulled a loop and parked it behind me. I sat pivoting to see them, while watching the woods in front of me. Not 15 minutes after I had sat down, a buck ran the creek right in front of Michael and stopped in front of him in the field. I had no idea what was going on. I kept silently screaming "SHOOT!!!!" I put my range finder on it and saw weird body language. I still didn't know what was going on. It started trotting off and I looked at it again when it hit me. I could see blood coating the left side of the buck with an arrow dangling out that side. He had shot.
Wait.....
His quiver was hanging from his tree and from my distance I thought it was his entire bow. At this point the light-bulb finally blinked to life. I grabbed my phone and in one fluid motion I opened it and she was there.
"Was that you?!?!?! Did you shoot?"
"Yeah, I think it was a gut hit though."
"UH...It looked good from my view, there was blood right behind the shoulder."
It was determined that the shot may have been quartering a bit, but she didn't think that much. She did says the hit was back for sure. I called Michael and told him to sit tight. I got up right away and went straight for the trapper guys. I crossed the beaver pond and walked right up to their set. Grandfather, father, son clan trapping coyotes. Very nice guys. The old guy said he had been trapping there for 43 years and this was our first encounter. He was a very nice guy and I merely inquired as to there evening plan. I told them my wife had just shot a buck and the hit was marginal. They had no plans to go over to that area the rest of the night and warned me of a large trap in one of the runs. I parted with a smile and a good luck.
There is hope in this world after all. 
I called Dad to keep him in the loop, called Michael to tell him to still hunt until dark, and then Rachel to tell her I was on my way to sit with her. I got her out of the stand safely (seems so much more important these days...) and we sat on the ground next to her stand developing the game plan. We decided that once Michael got to us, we were going to back out. Michael informed us when the buck ran past he saw what looked like a gut plug where the entry hole was, and that he had a chance to shoot it again but was uncertain if that was acceptable. We informed him until it is on the ground to shoot until empty. We then backed out.
Supper of pork chops, hashbrowns, and stemmed broccoli courtesy of Dad. While eating dinner we discussed the buck in question. There was a buck that frequented the area that both Dad and Michael had seen multiple times, and both had opportunities to harvest. They named him Fred as he was such a regular. He had a broken right side, missing the latter half of his main beam. We put Rachel in the stand we did so she could shoot Fred and there was a strong possibility she accomplished that.
At one point I called Nick and he suggested to wait overnight and track in the morning.
Instant mutiny.
We did decide to wait until 8:00 before we headed back out. Dad came with for the tracking and brought the van and trailer. He also decided when we got there to drive through a gap in the dike and drive through the field to about where we would start tracking.
It took awhile but we finally found blood. Dad started the trail and led the way. Five yards in we find the arrow. Great blood, and doesn't smell bad; good sign. After the arrow got dicey. Blood was the size of pin tips. We tracked another 15 yards when Dad says,
"Is this big, brown, dead thing what we are looking for?"
The damn thing went barely 25 yards into the bugaloo and bedded down before expiring. It was a HUGE relief knowing that we had another buck down, and without a tracking odyssey. Rachel, to say the least, was ecstatic.

Rachel did her own gut job, and in her own, 'wrong' fashion... ;) We found out the shot was weird. She hit guts, paunch, liver, and a small corner of one lung. That deer was dead before we backed out that night. Still, knowing this, I am glad we waited as at the time there were too many unknowns, and I was not going to jump another deer. This time we didn't get that opportunity.
Dad brought the sled, but with as tangled and dense as the underbrush was, and the sheer body size of the buck, it was easy to just have Michael beast the thing out.

On the way out we almost bottomed out the van on the dike. This could have made for a much longer evening, but we managed to bull our way out. We got the deer hung in the tree to cool over night, and called it and evening. Upon further review, we decided that this was as titled, "Not Fred". Dad still thinks it was, but it could be a case of mistaken identity. This was the same buck that Michael had come right under the stand chasing a doe earlier this season. That was the same stand from which Rachel shot this buck.
Sunday morning we went through the butcher process as we always to.

It was nice to have another buck in the freezer. It's been a tough season for everyone, and success was welcome. I must also mention the amount of help we got from Michael not only with the deer, but all break. It was nice to have another strong back to heave pretty much anything I asked of him.
I paid him in bullets and Dr Pepper. :)


Tonight I mounted the buck on a hunk of the cherry cancer that Nick collected a few summers ago. It's awesome to say the least.

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Bow Camp

This has turned out to be a rather difficult season all-around. This bow camp was no exception. Friday evening the guys got out before I made it out to the house. Lisa was just leaving for a meeting when I got there. No deer shot and not much for shot opportunities. We had brats and backstraps for supper. In all honesty, everyone seemed stressed. It was still great hang out and talk deer, but there was a tension about the clan.

Saturday morning. Kurt, Michael, Poindexter, and myself headed for the public. Long walk for everyone, although I branched off to hunt my turkey corner. Ten minutes after sun-up these two guys pull a loop and set up 80 yards from me. Turkey hunters. I stand up and wave to them, so in the event a bird comes, I don't get peppered. They stop, look, and then bury themselves into the brambles. It's good to know there are inconsiderate bastards no matter where you go. As soon as they leave I get up, swap out some clothing as it is heating up fast, and head to the big field to glass for awhile. Walking out the guys tell me they saw three big deer. Nick and Michael saw a brute, and almost got a shot, but they don't get big being dumb. As we continue to walk out I tell the guys about the turkey hunters. We get 20 yards from them before I notice them standing on the field edge on the trail. I stopped to inquire about their morning. I asked them why they still set up next to me, and that I was there well before they were. No recollection of me being there. Struck by blindness they were. Nick and Michael both noted that their gun safety skills were deplorable. Gun barrels were swinging the entire conversation. Breakfast of Biscuits and gravy, eggs, and a half gallon of milk if you are Kurt.
Nap time. Afternoon hunt Rachel joined us. She went home Friday evening as there was a baby shower for her cousin Saturday morning.
Saturday Evening. HOT and WINDY. The storm front was making its way in but it was still upper 70's and windy as hell. Nick sent Rachel and I to a field edge stand. I brought a hanger stand with so I could just sit in the tree with Rachel. Got to the stand with plenty of time so I could have time to set up the hanger. I got up the tree and in the ladder stand to set it up. I got the first strap on and cinched. I got onto the stand to put on the second strap. I was standing, but crouching, when my world came crumbling down. Literally.

One second I am standing in the tree, the next I am on the ground, ears ringing, back throbbing. I don't know what happened. Rachel stood over me and all she could muster was, "Are you ok????"I just laid on the ground trying to catch my breath. I was sweating profusely, and my back was killing me. "Is your leg ok????" She must have seen something I didn't, but my legs were fine. At this point I could only do the most logical thing. I laughed; hysterically. When I regained composure I told Rachel I was ok and wanted to hunt anyway. The stand stayed on the ground and so did I. It was the most uncomfortable sit of my life. I drifted in and out for the better part of an hour, the pain in my tailbone becoming more and more prevalent.
I looked around the tree to see three does filter into the field. I looked up at Rachel waiting for her to see them as well. See looks down at me, and motions if she should shoot. I said no does tonight but I was not about to turn down an opportunity. I managed to stand behind the tree and range them at every step. We waited close to twenty minutes before a shot presented itself. Nick set up across the woods, and was able to see the whole thing unfold. At one point he even texted me to stop moving as he could see me from a couple hundred yards away. I sat still long enough to watch Rachel launch and arrow. She managed to hit her coat with the string which gave the doe a jump on the string. The arrow hit, and she barreled across the field. Tracking in the dark was impossible with crappy flashlights and I was in a bad way. I hobbled my way across the field to the truck. Everyone at camp headed back out but me. Ice, and goo-goo-bombs. A friend of Nick's stopped by with his daughter for dinner and he brought his daughter. We hung out and talked deer while they searched. They came back for dinner with no deer. After venison stew, they continued the search. Lisa, Dad, the kid-let, and myself stayed at the house. No deer in the end. It was determined a non-fatal hit. Everyone was as the trend held, rather edgy and borderline grumpy. Rachel drove us back to our apartment where ice and sleep awaited.

Sunday morning. Rachel and I slept in. Found out later so did everyone else. Weather was super crappy and it wasn't worth it. We didn't get back out to the house until late afternoon. Cold hunt for the guys. Made burgers, and brats and made sure they were ready to eat when they got back. All were cold, Michael was an icicle. Camp disbanded abruptly and that was that. End of camp 2012.

Sore today. Neck, elbow, tailbone, and found out thanks to a co-worker, my ribs are tender as well. My back no longer sounds like rice krispies when I bend over. Could have been much worse.



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Western Iowa Pheasants

Sunday and today brought an opportunity to hunt some pheasants with my boss, Aaron, at his Dad's place near Cherokee, Iowa. We left Ames at 5:30am Sunday, and were hunting by 8:30. A trend reared it's ugly head on this trip. Poor Luck. The first place we went was supposedly untouched as no one should have hunted it, nor had permission to hunt it yet this year. We pull up to see two gentleman in orange on draw we were going to hunt. We, in all honesty, just inquired whom they obtained permission, and tried to move on. They were having none of that conversation. A quick phone call confirmed that they indeed were trespassing. Oh well. Walked a river bottom area that finally produced two birds. I managed to pull one down but as it was going to sail across the river, my boss put another in him. Twice. Saw tons of deer, and even a fair amount of hens, but no more shots. The next spot. Same story as before; people. Next spot? Walked, feather piles, and shotgun empties. I was less than concerned as I am used to not even seeing a pheasant in Iowa, but my host's were starting to show their frustration. We hunted a couple more placing before calling it a day. Aaron and I chased squirrels for awhile, and then decided to try our luck at fish. There is a nice pond in front of the house and it proved true for sunfish and bass. Aaron caught eight to ten 3/4 pound sunfish, and I pulled in six bass in the 2 pound range. It was awesome. We continued our evening with me watching everyone play cribbage, while we ate fried walleye, and bacon cheeseburgers. Of course there was some Seagrams VO Gold in the mix...We then finished our evening playing Big Game Hunter on the Wii.

Today was slower even then yesterday. It rained steady pretty much all night and was still misting when we got to our first spot. Thicket held only bird which flushed and dropped back down farther down the draw. When we flushed him again I had 12 foot ragweed between me and him. Aaron popped off two shots before I could even see it. His dog Lexi had her first pheasant retrieve on this bird to top it off. A couple more spots didn't show much either. We flushed one hen the rest of the morning. With the bird situation as it was, we went back to the house, which at the top of the hill has a skeet and trap station (my boss shot at nationals in college, and they are a shooting family) and decided upon a round of skeet. I didn't shoot great, but I held my own. We shot a few more guns and I even beat Aaron out with the .22 at the 'nickel trick', before we called it a day and headed home. It was a very enjoyable excursion, and I hope to be invited up again despite my "bad luck" status. ;)

On a side note, it was nice to have a break from deer for awhile. This season has proven to be more of a stressor for me than a sanctuary. This has been a successful season for me, but difficult for others and it has taken a toll on me. I sincerely hope next weekend's deer camp bring "non-odyssey" success.


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