These posts will chronicle my journey as a fatally nostalgic masochist. I am continually drawn to the "old ways" and history, methods, and means of the low technology past.
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Thursday, January 26, 2012
Wednesday 012512 bowhunt
I looked at the weather forecast, and my work schedule, and decided to take a hunting day on Wednesday. The season is drawing to a close and I have yet to collect a deer with the bow this season. Time was running out and I also wanted to find the arrows I lost in the snow on Saturday (excuse).
I entered the woodline just as it was growing light enough to see well. I moved quickly and quietly, and did not kick out anything that I could hear as I moved to the back of the property. I decided to move forward closer to the ridge line that the deer moved over both times I encountered them here recently. The wind was tricky and kept changing up and down the ridge, but never downhill (the direction I thought the deer would come).
The morning drew on uneventfully. I did hear a few coyotes howling late in the morning at a couple domestic dogs barking in a nearby wooded house. I watched the sun start to warm things and melt the hard ground into a soggy mess.
I am not sure if the deer just were not moving, or if my scent had somehow alerted them from the ridge, but in any event, nothing showed.
I easily found my arrow from the miss Saturday. It was stuck in a nice log right where I thought it would have been. I probably walked over it several times in the snow. I also found my errant judo tipped arrow from the walk out. I decided to catch some lunch and head back out for the afternoon.
I was back in the woods about 12:30 with a full belly, and a lot less insulation. It was sunny and warm. I walked up the hill still trying to play the changing air currents. I flushed out a small antlerless deer despite my best attempts to be quiet. She may have winded me, but in any event she bounded up very high on the hill last I saw her. I still hunted my way to a nice thicket where the wind was favorable. I snugged up against and behind some deadfall in the shadows of a beech tree that still had crinkling brown leaves that would rustle whenever the wind blew. The sun was warm and I dozed several times. It was a nice relaxing hunt, but no animals besides a downy woodpecker were observed. I did find two very small seed ticks on my hand. I wondered how many others were crawling on me?! Gave me the itchies for the rest of the sit. I never did find any more....yet.
On the stalk out of the woods I came across the remains of a fawn in the overgown field. Only the small skull and spinal column, four lower legs, and the thick winter hide were left after the yotes and foxes had their way.
Such is the way late season hunts can be...feast or famine.
My next hunt will probably be my last this season for deer. Jan 31st.
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