| A Connecticut Nutmeg State Beauty By: Joe Tucker Bow season arrives in CT September 15th of each year. But my buddies and I usually start early August, scouting, setting up tree stands practicing and just getting pumped up for the upcoming season.... There are not a lot of giant whitetails in CT, but every year one of us gets a crack at a beauty. Still, the only Pope and Young Buck harvested by us was a shot by my good buddy Dan a beautiful 129 7/8, 8 pointer. I just missed the book the previous two years with a 119 11 pointer and in 2001 and a 117 8 pointer in 2002. Maybe 2003 would be my year, but after twenty years of bow hunting CT. I know the chances are slim. Well the season arrived and weve been hunting various pieces of private land around the state. Since we all work and live relatively close together we been hunting a 70 acre parcel in a town named Oxford. It was close to home and we could hunt just about every afternoon after work, besides we knew there were some big bucks around. Our 70 acres was surrounded by 800 acres of open space land. Dan and I had setup our tree stands in the back of the property, just outside these really thick laurels next to a brook. Sign was abundant with acorns all over. We setup about 200 yards apart. Our other buddies bob and Craig setup some 500 yards across the property. |
We would hunt the afternoons then meet back at our trucks and share stories. We were seeing plenty of deer and a couple of decent
bucks, but no shots but I told the guys stick to it out pre-rut is coming and someone will get a crack at a nice one. Well while leaving
the property just after an afternoon hunt, sure enough two walked out across the dirt road just in front of Bob and Craig one a big 8
pointer the other a MONSTER 10 pointer and we do not use that term monster lightly in our circle. Bob said he was all of 300 lbs. on
the hoof. 300 pounds now is a MONSTER whitetail in our part of the country.
Well we kept at it. Fall was here rubs and scrapes were appearing all over the place. Bob shot a doe and Dan had seen the 8 pointer,
but no shot. Then came October 28th.
We keep in touch during the day by cell phone and I was working further from home than usual when I got the call from Dan around
noon and I told him that I wasnt sure if Id be back in time. By 2:30 I knew I wasnt going to make it in time for our 3:30 hunt, so Dan
asked Bob could hunt my stand since Craig wasnt going to make it either. I told him sure and if I were there by 4, I would just run in
the woods and find a place to sit.
I arrived just about 4 to find Dans truck there. I didnt want to disturb their hunt so decided to hunt beside the old farm house outside
some thick cedar trees. I threw on my scent proof coveralls, grabbed by bow and hurried into the woods. Looking for a spot to sit I
saw an old blow down walked over and cleaned away some leaves broke a few branches for a twenty yard shot and got comfortable.
Now it was 4:20. At 4:30 I rattled a little then grunted followed by some doe bleats. While scoping the terrain around me I noticed a
huge tree rub about twenty yards to my left. I was then happy with my set-up except for the fact that I was sitting on the ground. But I
only had an hour of daylight.
I have great equipment. I shoot a Mathews bow with carbon arrows. But 90 of my bow hunting is from 20 feet up a tree. But I had
practiced from the ground, 20 to 30 yards with my Savage Pendulum sight and was confident.
About 10 minutes had gone by and I decided to grunt a few more times followed by some doe bleats. This time I got pretty loud Thats
when I heard this horse like gallop coming up the ridge and then there he was. Quick as lightening he was standing broadside 15 yards
in front of me. Standing behind a big oak I could see his rack and his neck and he was staring right at me!
I sat there motionless my bow up right between my legs I closed my eyes a couple of times just so he couldnt see them He was that
close! All I could think of was what a Beauty and he is going to bolt!
Well he didnt. After a couple of minutes of stare down and heart palpitations. He turned to his right and headed away from me. Now
was time to ACT. I got to my knees, readied my bow and at 20 yards out he turned and headed back to the cedars. I prayed he would
stop and he did at twenty or so yards out. I was at full draw when he did to give me one last look when I released. He bolts, but I hit
him perfect. Mid body directly behind the shoulder. I know I double lunged him. I was so excited. I just couldnt believe it. Its 4:45 and
I know he is down!
I got up from the ground blind and walk 20 yards to where he last stood and my arrow is fully coated with blood. I start on his trail,
which I knew I shouldnt do only 3 minutes after the shot, then I realize my bow is back at the ground blind! I get my bow and slowly
start back on the trail and then I see him down..curled around a tree. WOW he is the MONSTER! Not 10 but 12 thick points and he
looks all of 300 pounds.
I admire this beautiful creature for a few moments and thank God for a great hunt! Then I head to my truck, so excited but nobody is
around. Dan and Bob will be another 30 minutes or so. Well I got the cell phone to call first my two sons Joe and Tyler, then my
brother Chris an avid bow hunter, then my dad, then my girlfriend and everyone else I could think of.
When Dan and Bob get to the truck, I tell them that the 10 pointer is really a 12 pointer and I need a hand getting him out because he
looks to be over 300 pounds. At first they didnt believe me, but I was wearing the biggest Cheshire Cat grin only a hunter or a 6 year
old at Christmas would wear.
Well we got him out and showed him off. He was 310 pounds on the hoof, 245 pounds dressed, 10 regular points with a split brow
tine on the right and a 4 irregular tine on the left. Gross scored 163 7/8 Pope and young.
bucks, but no shots but I told the guys stick to it out pre-rut is coming and someone will get a crack at a nice one. Well while leaving
the property just after an afternoon hunt, sure enough two walked out across the dirt road just in front of Bob and Craig one a big 8
pointer the other a MONSTER 10 pointer and we do not use that term monster lightly in our circle. Bob said he was all of 300 lbs. on
the hoof. 300 pounds now is a MONSTER whitetail in our part of the country.
Well we kept at it. Fall was here rubs and scrapes were appearing all over the place. Bob shot a doe and Dan had seen the 8 pointer,
but no shot. Then came October 28th.
We keep in touch during the day by cell phone and I was working further from home than usual when I got the call from Dan around
noon and I told him that I wasnt sure if Id be back in time. By 2:30 I knew I wasnt going to make it in time for our 3:30 hunt, so Dan
asked Bob could hunt my stand since Craig wasnt going to make it either. I told him sure and if I were there by 4, I would just run in
the woods and find a place to sit.
I arrived just about 4 to find Dans truck there. I didnt want to disturb their hunt so decided to hunt beside the old farm house outside
some thick cedar trees. I threw on my scent proof coveralls, grabbed by bow and hurried into the woods. Looking for a spot to sit I
saw an old blow down walked over and cleaned away some leaves broke a few branches for a twenty yard shot and got comfortable.
Now it was 4:20. At 4:30 I rattled a little then grunted followed by some doe bleats. While scoping the terrain around me I noticed a
huge tree rub about twenty yards to my left. I was then happy with my set-up except for the fact that I was sitting on the ground. But I
only had an hour of daylight.
I have great equipment. I shoot a Mathews bow with carbon arrows. But 90 of my bow hunting is from 20 feet up a tree. But I had
practiced from the ground, 20 to 30 yards with my Savage Pendulum sight and was confident.
About 10 minutes had gone by and I decided to grunt a few more times followed by some doe bleats. This time I got pretty loud Thats
when I heard this horse like gallop coming up the ridge and then there he was. Quick as lightening he was standing broadside 15 yards
in front of me. Standing behind a big oak I could see his rack and his neck and he was staring right at me!
I sat there motionless my bow up right between my legs I closed my eyes a couple of times just so he couldnt see them He was that
close! All I could think of was what a Beauty and he is going to bolt!
Well he didnt. After a couple of minutes of stare down and heart palpitations. He turned to his right and headed away from me. Now
was time to ACT. I got to my knees, readied my bow and at 20 yards out he turned and headed back to the cedars. I prayed he would
stop and he did at twenty or so yards out. I was at full draw when he did to give me one last look when I released. He bolts, but I hit
him perfect. Mid body directly behind the shoulder. I know I double lunged him. I was so excited. I just couldnt believe it. Its 4:45 and
I know he is down!
I got up from the ground blind and walk 20 yards to where he last stood and my arrow is fully coated with blood. I start on his trail,
which I knew I shouldnt do only 3 minutes after the shot, then I realize my bow is back at the ground blind! I get my bow and slowly
start back on the trail and then I see him down..curled around a tree. WOW he is the MONSTER! Not 10 but 12 thick points and he
looks all of 300 pounds.
I admire this beautiful creature for a few moments and thank God for a great hunt! Then I head to my truck, so excited but nobody is
around. Dan and Bob will be another 30 minutes or so. Well I got the cell phone to call first my two sons Joe and Tyler, then my
brother Chris an avid bow hunter, then my dad, then my girlfriend and everyone else I could think of.
When Dan and Bob get to the truck, I tell them that the 10 pointer is really a 12 pointer and I need a hand getting him out because he
looks to be over 300 pounds. At first they didnt believe me, but I was wearing the biggest Cheshire Cat grin only a hunter or a 6 year
old at Christmas would wear.
Well we got him out and showed him off. He was 310 pounds on the hoof, 245 pounds dressed, 10 regular points with a split brow
tine on the right and a 4 irregular tine on the left. Gross scored 163 7/8 Pope and young.
Friends of WhiteTail
I had this idea that I was going to rope a deer, put it in a stall, feed it up on corn for a couple of weeks, then kill it and eat it. The
First step in this adventure was getting a deer. I figured that since hey congregated at my cattle feeder and do not seem to have much
fear of me when we are there (a bold one will sometimes come right up and sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the
truck not 4 feet away) that it should not be difficult to rope one, get up to it and toss a bag over its head (to calm it down) then hog
tie it and transport it home. I filled the cattle feeder then hid down at the end with my rope. The cattle, who had seen the roping
thing before, stayed well back. They were not having any of it. After about 20 minutes my deer showed up - 3 of them. I picked out
a likely looking one, stepped out from the end of the feeder, and threw my rope. The deer just stood there and stared at me. I
wrapped the rope around my waist and twisted the end so I would have a good hold. The deer still just stood and stared at me, but
you could tell it was mildly concerned about the whole rope situation. I took a step towards it...it took a step away. I put a little
tension on the rope and received an education. The first thing that I learned is that while a deer may just stand there looking at you
funny while you rope it, they are spurred to action when you start pulling on that rope. That deer EXPLODED. The second thing I
learned is that pound for pound, a deer is a LOT stronger than a cow or a colt. A cow or a colt in that weight range I could fight
down with a rope with some dignity. A deer, no chance. That thing ran and bucked and twisted and pulled. There was no controlling
it and certainly no getting close to it. As it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me across the ground, it occurred to me that
having a deer on a rope was not nearly as good an idea as I originally imagined. The only up side is that they do not have as much
stamina as many animals.
A brief 10 minutes later, it was tired and not nearly as quick to jerk me off my feet and drag me when I managed to get up. It took
me a few minutes to realize this, since I was mostly blinded by the blood flowing out of the big gash in my head.
At that point I had lost my taste for corn fed venison. I just wanted to get that devil creature off the end of that rope. I figured if I
just let it go with the rope hanging around its neck, it would likely die slow and painfully somewhere. At the time, there was no love
at all between me and that deer.
At that moment, I hated the thing and I would venture a guess that the feeling was mutual. Despite the gash in my head and the
several large knots where I had cleverly arrested the deer's momentum by bracing my head against various large rocks as it dragged
me across the ground, I could still think clearly enough to recognize that there was a small chance that I shared some tiny amount of
responsibility for the situation we were in, so I didn't want the deer to have it suffer a slow death so I managed to get it lined back up
in between my truck and the feeder - a little trap I had set before hand. Kind of like a squeeze chute.
I got it to back in there and started moving up so I could get my rope back. Did you know that deer bite? They do! I never in a
million years would have thought that a deer would bite somebody so I was very surprised when I reached up there to grab that rope
and the deer grabbed hold of my wrist. Now, when a deer bites you, it is not like being bit by a horse where they just bite you and
then let go. A deer bites you and shakes its head - almost like a pit bull. They bite HARD and it hurts. The proper thing to do when
a deer bites you is probably to freeze and draw back slowly. I tried screaming and shaking instead. My method was ineffective. It
seems like the deer was biting and shaking for several minutes, but it was likely only several seconds. I, being smarter than a deer
(though you may be questioning that claim by now) tricked it. While I kept it busy tearing the bejesus out of my right arm, I reached
up with my left hand and pulled that rope loose.
That was when I got my final lesson in deer behavior for the day. Deer will strike at you with their front feet. They rear right up on
their back feet and strike right about head and shoulder level, and their hooves are surprisingly sharp. I learned a long time ago that
when an animal like a horse strikes at you with their hooves and you can't get away easily, the best thing to do is try to make a loud
noise and make an aggressive move towards the animal. This will usually cause them to back down a bit so you can escape. This
was not a horse. This was a deer, so obviously such trickery would not work. In the course of a millisecond I devised a different
strategy. I screamed like woman and tried to turn and run. The reason I had always been told NOT to try to turn and run from a
horse that paws at you is that there is a good chance that it will hit you in the back of the head. Deer may not be so different from
horses after all, besides being twice as strong and three times as evil, because the second I turned to run, it hit me right in the back of
the head and knocked me down. Now when a deer paws at you and knocks you down it does not immediately leave. I suspect it
does not recognize that the danger has passed. What they do instead is paw your back and jump up and down on you while you are
laying there crying like a little girl and covering your head.
I finally managed to crawl under the truck and the deer went away. Now for the local legend. I was pretty beat up. My scalp was
split open, I had several large goose eggs, my wrist was bleeding pretty good and felt broken (it turned out to be just badly bruised)
and my back was bleeding in a few places, though my insulated canvas jacket had protected me from most of the worst of it.
I drove to the nearest place, which was the co-op. I got out of the truck, covered in blood and dust and looking like hell. The guy
who ran the place saw me through the window and came running out yelling "what happened?" I have never seen any law in the
state of Kansas that would prohibit an individual from roping a deer. I suspect that this is an area that they have overlooked entirely.
Knowing, as I do, the lengths to which law enforcement personnel will go to exercise their power, I was concerned that they may
find a way to twist the existing laws to paint my actions as criminal. I swear...not wanting to admit that I had done something
monumentally stupid played no part in my response. I told him "I was attacked by a deer". I did not mention that at the time I had a
rope on it. The evidence was all over my body. Deer prints on the back of my jacket where it had stomped all over me and a large
deer print on my face where it had struck me there. I asked him to call somebody to come get me. I didn't think I could make it
home on my own. He did.
Later that afternoon, a game warden showed up at my house and wanted to know about the deer attack. Surprisingly, deer attacks
are a rare thing and wildlife and parks was interested in the event. I tried to describe the attack as completely and accurately as I
could. I was filling the grain hopper and this deer came out of nowhere and just started kicking the hell out of me and BIT me. It
was obviously rabid or insane or something. EVERYBODY for miles around knows about the deer attack (the guy at
the co-op has a big mouth). For several weeks people dragged their kids in the house when they saw deer around and the local
ranchers carried rifles when they filled their feeders. I have told several people the story, but NEVER anybody around here. I have
to see these people every day and as an outsider - a "city folk". I have enough trouble fitting in without them snickering behind my
back and whispering "there is the idiot that tried to rope the deer."
The moral to this story: Leave the friggin deer alone - buy BEEF!
First step in this adventure was getting a deer. I figured that since hey congregated at my cattle feeder and do not seem to have much
fear of me when we are there (a bold one will sometimes come right up and sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the
truck not 4 feet away) that it should not be difficult to rope one, get up to it and toss a bag over its head (to calm it down) then hog
tie it and transport it home. I filled the cattle feeder then hid down at the end with my rope. The cattle, who had seen the roping
thing before, stayed well back. They were not having any of it. After about 20 minutes my deer showed up - 3 of them. I picked out
a likely looking one, stepped out from the end of the feeder, and threw my rope. The deer just stood there and stared at me. I
wrapped the rope around my waist and twisted the end so I would have a good hold. The deer still just stood and stared at me, but
you could tell it was mildly concerned about the whole rope situation. I took a step towards it...it took a step away. I put a little
tension on the rope and received an education. The first thing that I learned is that while a deer may just stand there looking at you
funny while you rope it, they are spurred to action when you start pulling on that rope. That deer EXPLODED. The second thing I
learned is that pound for pound, a deer is a LOT stronger than a cow or a colt. A cow or a colt in that weight range I could fight
down with a rope with some dignity. A deer, no chance. That thing ran and bucked and twisted and pulled. There was no controlling
it and certainly no getting close to it. As it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me across the ground, it occurred to me that
having a deer on a rope was not nearly as good an idea as I originally imagined. The only up side is that they do not have as much
stamina as many animals.
A brief 10 minutes later, it was tired and not nearly as quick to jerk me off my feet and drag me when I managed to get up. It took
me a few minutes to realize this, since I was mostly blinded by the blood flowing out of the big gash in my head.
At that point I had lost my taste for corn fed venison. I just wanted to get that devil creature off the end of that rope. I figured if I
just let it go with the rope hanging around its neck, it would likely die slow and painfully somewhere. At the time, there was no love
at all between me and that deer.
At that moment, I hated the thing and I would venture a guess that the feeling was mutual. Despite the gash in my head and the
several large knots where I had cleverly arrested the deer's momentum by bracing my head against various large rocks as it dragged
me across the ground, I could still think clearly enough to recognize that there was a small chance that I shared some tiny amount of
responsibility for the situation we were in, so I didn't want the deer to have it suffer a slow death so I managed to get it lined back up
in between my truck and the feeder - a little trap I had set before hand. Kind of like a squeeze chute.
I got it to back in there and started moving up so I could get my rope back. Did you know that deer bite? They do! I never in a
million years would have thought that a deer would bite somebody so I was very surprised when I reached up there to grab that rope
and the deer grabbed hold of my wrist. Now, when a deer bites you, it is not like being bit by a horse where they just bite you and
then let go. A deer bites you and shakes its head - almost like a pit bull. They bite HARD and it hurts. The proper thing to do when
a deer bites you is probably to freeze and draw back slowly. I tried screaming and shaking instead. My method was ineffective. It
seems like the deer was biting and shaking for several minutes, but it was likely only several seconds. I, being smarter than a deer
(though you may be questioning that claim by now) tricked it. While I kept it busy tearing the bejesus out of my right arm, I reached
up with my left hand and pulled that rope loose.
That was when I got my final lesson in deer behavior for the day. Deer will strike at you with their front feet. They rear right up on
their back feet and strike right about head and shoulder level, and their hooves are surprisingly sharp. I learned a long time ago that
when an animal like a horse strikes at you with their hooves and you can't get away easily, the best thing to do is try to make a loud
noise and make an aggressive move towards the animal. This will usually cause them to back down a bit so you can escape. This
was not a horse. This was a deer, so obviously such trickery would not work. In the course of a millisecond I devised a different
strategy. I screamed like woman and tried to turn and run. The reason I had always been told NOT to try to turn and run from a
horse that paws at you is that there is a good chance that it will hit you in the back of the head. Deer may not be so different from
horses after all, besides being twice as strong and three times as evil, because the second I turned to run, it hit me right in the back of
the head and knocked me down. Now when a deer paws at you and knocks you down it does not immediately leave. I suspect it
does not recognize that the danger has passed. What they do instead is paw your back and jump up and down on you while you are
laying there crying like a little girl and covering your head.
I finally managed to crawl under the truck and the deer went away. Now for the local legend. I was pretty beat up. My scalp was
split open, I had several large goose eggs, my wrist was bleeding pretty good and felt broken (it turned out to be just badly bruised)
and my back was bleeding in a few places, though my insulated canvas jacket had protected me from most of the worst of it.
I drove to the nearest place, which was the co-op. I got out of the truck, covered in blood and dust and looking like hell. The guy
who ran the place saw me through the window and came running out yelling "what happened?" I have never seen any law in the
state of Kansas that would prohibit an individual from roping a deer. I suspect that this is an area that they have overlooked entirely.
Knowing, as I do, the lengths to which law enforcement personnel will go to exercise their power, I was concerned that they may
find a way to twist the existing laws to paint my actions as criminal. I swear...not wanting to admit that I had done something
monumentally stupid played no part in my response. I told him "I was attacked by a deer". I did not mention that at the time I had a
rope on it. The evidence was all over my body. Deer prints on the back of my jacket where it had stomped all over me and a large
deer print on my face where it had struck me there. I asked him to call somebody to come get me. I didn't think I could make it
home on my own. He did.
Later that afternoon, a game warden showed up at my house and wanted to know about the deer attack. Surprisingly, deer attacks
are a rare thing and wildlife and parks was interested in the event. I tried to describe the attack as completely and accurately as I
could. I was filling the grain hopper and this deer came out of nowhere and just started kicking the hell out of me and BIT me. It
was obviously rabid or insane or something. EVERYBODY for miles around knows about the deer attack (the guy at
the co-op has a big mouth). For several weeks people dragged their kids in the house when they saw deer around and the local
ranchers carried rifles when they filled their feeders. I have told several people the story, but NEVER anybody around here. I have
to see these people every day and as an outsider - a "city folk". I have enough trouble fitting in without them snickering behind my
back and whispering "there is the idiot that tried to rope the deer."
The moral to this story: Leave the friggin deer alone - buy BEEF!
How To Rope A Deer
Submitted by friend Jim Stowe
By G. Young Fellow and future sportsmen, hunters and food plot czars. As I sit here looking out my patio door this bright and sunny April morning, strategizing my food plots for both spring and fall, and reveling in the pride and success of my hard work and efforts of years past. Finally my clover fields have broken through their dormant stage and have emerged covering several acres in a bright shade of green. Numerous whitetails have meandered into a plot across the holler on a gently sloping east facing hill and calmly and serenely enjoy the tender shoots as the sun warms their backs. I look and sitting next to me, my wife peacefully browses through her spring catalogs earmarking pages, skillfully selecting her flowers, shrubs and vines for the upcoming year. A small chill runs up my spine and a few hairs rise on the back of my neck. I begin to reminisce of times gone by not so long ago. It is these brief and dark moments that shed light and detour you from a path of brief and impending uncertainty. With our children grown and out of the house our days as a retired couple start much the same. We rise and ultimately end up in the kitchen. Settling in with a cup of java, stunning view and the privilege to enjoy it for as long as we want without interruption, whatever the tides of time and season has to offer us in the Midwest. Ultimately a unique phenomenon generally occurs from the end of May to mid June. Generally it all begins much like this. My wife upon finishing up the morning dishes, heads out the door, slips into her gardening shoes and grabs a small gardening spade from a bucket. Confident that her weeks worth of preparation has paid off, including the trips to the salon gathering hair clippings of strangers to scatter around her plants and stuffed in panty hose hanging in undisclosed locations. The fertilizing, pruning, weeding and dispersal of mothballs, cayenne pepper and various home concoctions handed down for generations available only through Readers Digest. She ascends to the edge of the deck like a queen preparing to gaze upon her loyal and faithful subjects. The admiration and dedication reflected in a carefully planned out palette of colors and textures that cry out nothing less than, “Monet”. And then it happens. Undetected to the untrained eye and as fast as a frog snatching a moving target out of thin air the winds of change are upon us. I straighten in my chair. I sense tension. My wife’s aura begins to shift. It unfolds like slow motion in the movie, The Matrix. It starts at the tip of her green thumb and vibrates to the soles of her green clog clad feet. One hand rises to her hip, the other slowly raising above her head. Her out stretched arm wields the small spade like a knight with a sword preparing for battle and cries out,”damn you!” It seems once again like a thief in the night, the ruminants have browsed through her works of art and reduced them to cud and in the end, small piles of fertilizer scatter throughout the lawn. Meanwhile, a doe, likely the mother of the next state record trophy buck, has been peacefully grazing my food plot. Upon being distracted by this torrent outcry of injustice, she gently raises her head, succulent strands of nutrients hang from her mouth, brown eyes glistening, ears twitch, a gentle tail swishes as she gracefully turns, head now facing north. Which leaves the backside extended in the direction of my wife, who still filled with fury, fails to notice this subtle jester. After a brief moment (I can assure you it seemed much longer) her hands retreat to her sides, her head tilts forward, and it seems for now the battle is over. Although I am not one to keep score, not out loud anyway, after today it is: Whitetails – 5, Gardener - 0. You may think it all ends here. Gentlemen listen up, especially you younger folk who are still a bit wet behind the ears! You will notice after this brief encounter that this usually calm sweet soul begins to levitate right before your very eyes!! Do Not Abandon Your Post, Do Not LOOK Down, I repeat, “Do Not Look Down.” She has lifted herself off the bottoms of her feet and on to her tiptoes. She is doing an about-face turn, heading straight for the door; dominate hand already out and perpendicular to her body. I repeat,” Do Not Look Down!” Upon entering she simultaneously raises her voice, her other hand, points and says, “This is all your fault, you had to start feeding those #^*% deer!” Now the battle is officially over. Score: Wife – 5, Husband – 0 Men of valor do not despair in times of uncertainty, after the smoke has dissipated, do what I did, Google it. Now you can look down and thank God for the Internet and type in these key words ‘deer-resistant plants’. Do your research. Select a few plants, order them through the mail or pick them out at your local nursery. Bask in triumphant glee as you hand over your crowning glory to your queen. Relish momentarily as she shoots you the look that’s a cross between, “what have you done now and you’re so good to me.” After a kiss on the cheek, take your leave. Stroll off into the sunset and enjoy your deer/dear. The wise deer manager eventually learns that some of the best plants to nurture are those preferred by your dear but not necessarily eaten by your deer! P.S. We no longer keep score. |
Peace in the Valley
Story Of The Month
2007 Out With a Thwang!
You wouldn't have thought so, but a cruel series of events finally culminated with a very happy ending.
Our grandson, Clayton, couldn't come over until Friday evening for the Ohio muzzleloader season, so that left only Saturday &
Sunday to hunt. Saturday morning in the Buddy Stand proved to be uneventful with nary a deer sighting. The cold was settling
in, so we decided to walk to where we had a blind set up. We had to adjust it from the heavy wind gusts we had from the
previous week. We settled in and watched the food plot but still ended up seeing nothing before we conceded defeat and headed
home.
Saturday evening and it was off to the Buddy Stand once again. Three does came in and Clayton tried to get ready as one came
close. It caught some movement and quickly went into the head bobbing and foot stomping routine while, Clayton shook
uncontrollably from the excitement. The doe stared at him until it had seen enough and ran away taking the others with it. Right
before quitting time, Logan, a young 9 point (yes we name our bucks from our Deer Camera photos), came in downwind to
within 70 yards or so only to spook before Clayton could get a shot off. He was devastated. I tried to explain that hunting took
lots of patience and most days would end with no shots fired, even if you were lucky enough to see deer.
Sunday morning at 5:30AM he ran into our bedroom to inform us he was sick. He spent the rest of the day lying on the dining
room floor so he could stay close to the bathroom. No hunting therefore on Sunday. So much for the muzzleloader season.
Have no fear, the boy is a crack shot with the crossbow, so Monday afternoon, New Year’s Eve day, we were off again. We
settled into the Buddy Stand and I had him stand up and look through the scope to make sure he remembered the reticule and
which lines to use. He was fine with the scope, but we determined the railing on the stand was a little high for him and the
crossbow. We devised a system with him sitting on my lap and standing on my boots and the hunt was on.
4:15PM and we already had crunching leaves behind us. I squeezed his leg and whispered that we needed to sit very still and
quiet. Out came two does followed again by Logan. A little too quick of an attempt to get the crossbow up and the does took
off. Logan stuck around almost long enough to get a shot off, but not quite. I told him to sit still as he may be back. About 30
minutes later out came two 6 pointers. Clayton asks if I'd mount the bigger of the two and I say yes. As he tries to get on
target, we hear another deer coming. Out comes Logan again. The two sixes spar for a few minutes, then Logan and the bigger
6 point go at it. But they also spook before a shot could be fired. They ran off and watched us from the next tree line and then
snorted and ran away. How many chances could we expect to get in one afternoon?
A few minutes later another buck comes along the woods from our right. I tell Clayton not to look, but he tries anyway and
another buck is gone, before we could get a closer look. A doe comes in from behind us followed by a spike buck from the left.
Another doe (Clayton says it was a fawn) came in from our left also. It looked nervous but seemed to be looking back into the
woods instead of at us. Something is up. Crunch, crunch and more deer are coming. The others clear the area. Decoy, a tall
diamond shaped 8 pointer, steps into the food plot. Crunch, crunch and here comes Tex, our local homeboy - a wide heavy
massed 8 pointer. They are both still alive. They survived all of Ohio's gun seasons. But obviously they weren't expecting a
little boy to be out so soon after the smokepoles had faded away.
I swear I could feel his heart beating as he sat on my lap. The two big bucks seemed to take turns watching for danger, but
Clayton had just enough opportunity to get into position and the shot was finally executed. We watched them run away before
congratulating one another and hoping the shot was a good one. Clayton ran the last 50 yards to the house versus the normal,
“Carry me up the hill, Papa”. He had to be the first back to the house to tell Grandma the news. We changed clothes, ate
dinner (try explaining to an excited 7 year old why you don’t want to push a wounded deer), got flashlights and Grandma and we
were off. Tex lay at the end of a heavy blood trail 150 or so yards away. The pictures tell the rest of the story.
Coincidentally, we had only taken a single crossbow bolt with us as I’m used to cocking it for my wife to hunt with. Since she
can’t recock it herself, there is no reason to take extra bolts. Had Clayton gotten a shot off at an earlier deer, he would never
have had the opportunity at the larger buck. Sometimes what originally appears to be bad luck turns out to be a defining
moment to achieving greater success.
This was quite an ending to the year for this young 7 year old. He had attended Ray Howell’s Kicking Bear Camp, had gotten a
compound bow and a .22LR/.410 youth gun, caught a six pound bass while he was still six years old, shot his first deer (button
buck) during the youth shotgun season shortly after turning seven and now he shoots a real wall hanger! Tex has been a regular
on our property for the past 3 years. I expect he was 4 1/2 years old. He had an inside spread of 20 inches and green scores
142 ½”. I know a little boy who needs to extend an invitation to his Papa to the Buckeye Big Buck Club banquet for Ohio
hunters who take a buck over 140”. He shot my biggest buck and I couldn’t be happier! The rewards of QDM efforts fulfilled.
You wouldn't have thought so, but a cruel series of events finally culminated with a very happy ending.
Our grandson, Clayton, couldn't come over until Friday evening for the Ohio muzzleloader season, so that left only Saturday &
Sunday to hunt. Saturday morning in the Buddy Stand proved to be uneventful with nary a deer sighting. The cold was settling
in, so we decided to walk to where we had a blind set up. We had to adjust it from the heavy wind gusts we had from the
previous week. We settled in and watched the food plot but still ended up seeing nothing before we conceded defeat and headed
home.
Saturday evening and it was off to the Buddy Stand once again. Three does came in and Clayton tried to get ready as one came
close. It caught some movement and quickly went into the head bobbing and foot stomping routine while, Clayton shook
uncontrollably from the excitement. The doe stared at him until it had seen enough and ran away taking the others with it. Right
before quitting time, Logan, a young 9 point (yes we name our bucks from our Deer Camera photos), came in downwind to
within 70 yards or so only to spook before Clayton could get a shot off. He was devastated. I tried to explain that hunting took
lots of patience and most days would end with no shots fired, even if you were lucky enough to see deer.
Sunday morning at 5:30AM he ran into our bedroom to inform us he was sick. He spent the rest of the day lying on the dining
room floor so he could stay close to the bathroom. No hunting therefore on Sunday. So much for the muzzleloader season.
Have no fear, the boy is a crack shot with the crossbow, so Monday afternoon, New Year’s Eve day, we were off again. We
settled into the Buddy Stand and I had him stand up and look through the scope to make sure he remembered the reticule and
which lines to use. He was fine with the scope, but we determined the railing on the stand was a little high for him and the
crossbow. We devised a system with him sitting on my lap and standing on my boots and the hunt was on.
4:15PM and we already had crunching leaves behind us. I squeezed his leg and whispered that we needed to sit very still and
quiet. Out came two does followed again by Logan. A little too quick of an attempt to get the crossbow up and the does took
off. Logan stuck around almost long enough to get a shot off, but not quite. I told him to sit still as he may be back. About 30
minutes later out came two 6 pointers. Clayton asks if I'd mount the bigger of the two and I say yes. As he tries to get on
target, we hear another deer coming. Out comes Logan again. The two sixes spar for a few minutes, then Logan and the bigger
6 point go at it. But they also spook before a shot could be fired. They ran off and watched us from the next tree line and then
snorted and ran away. How many chances could we expect to get in one afternoon?
A few minutes later another buck comes along the woods from our right. I tell Clayton not to look, but he tries anyway and
another buck is gone, before we could get a closer look. A doe comes in from behind us followed by a spike buck from the left.
Another doe (Clayton says it was a fawn) came in from our left also. It looked nervous but seemed to be looking back into the
woods instead of at us. Something is up. Crunch, crunch and more deer are coming. The others clear the area. Decoy, a tall
diamond shaped 8 pointer, steps into the food plot. Crunch, crunch and here comes Tex, our local homeboy - a wide heavy
massed 8 pointer. They are both still alive. They survived all of Ohio's gun seasons. But obviously they weren't expecting a
little boy to be out so soon after the smokepoles had faded away.
I swear I could feel his heart beating as he sat on my lap. The two big bucks seemed to take turns watching for danger, but
Clayton had just enough opportunity to get into position and the shot was finally executed. We watched them run away before
congratulating one another and hoping the shot was a good one. Clayton ran the last 50 yards to the house versus the normal,
“Carry me up the hill, Papa”. He had to be the first back to the house to tell Grandma the news. We changed clothes, ate
dinner (try explaining to an excited 7 year old why you don’t want to push a wounded deer), got flashlights and Grandma and we
were off. Tex lay at the end of a heavy blood trail 150 or so yards away. The pictures tell the rest of the story.
Coincidentally, we had only taken a single crossbow bolt with us as I’m used to cocking it for my wife to hunt with. Since she
can’t recock it herself, there is no reason to take extra bolts. Had Clayton gotten a shot off at an earlier deer, he would never
have had the opportunity at the larger buck. Sometimes what originally appears to be bad luck turns out to be a defining
moment to achieving greater success.
This was quite an ending to the year for this young 7 year old. He had attended Ray Howell’s Kicking Bear Camp, had gotten a
compound bow and a .22LR/.410 youth gun, caught a six pound bass while he was still six years old, shot his first deer (button
buck) during the youth shotgun season shortly after turning seven and now he shoots a real wall hanger! Tex has been a regular
on our property for the past 3 years. I expect he was 4 1/2 years old. He had an inside spread of 20 inches and green scores
142 ½”. I know a little boy who needs to extend an invitation to his Papa to the Buckeye Big Buck Club banquet for Ohio
hunters who take a buck over 140”. He shot my biggest buck and I couldn’t be happier! The rewards of QDM efforts fulfilled.
By Brett Young
Thanks for a great story and for getting our youth into the outdoors to keep our traditions going strong. FOW