Spring Means Turkey, Trout, and Trying to Find Morels!

 Well, turkey camp has come and gone. It was a quick 3 hunts and 2 nights.  

Things started out around 330am Thursday morning.  I had a hockey game Wednesday night with a 1015 start time (and I was feeling my age), so I didn't get much sleep before the alarm rousted me.  I made a quick pint of coffee and grabbed a biscuit and drove out the hour and 45 minutes to the mountain to hunt the morning.  I got to the parking area just at first light and noticed another truck in the lot.  My brother was already at camp with his inlaw Walter and I assumed they were somewhere as well.  I started down the road to hike about a ¼ mile to the top while scanning the trees for roosted birds and texted the group I was there. Our friend Jeff responded back that he was also out in the woods, and I soon came across his blind and decoys and we quickly chatted.  He was in the area I was thinking of, so I told him I would go down the fire road to hunt the old farm field.  I got there and was relieved I didn't wear more layers as the it was hot and buggy.  I found a boulder and set up on the field edge.  I had decided to hunt this weekend with the shotgun due to the pressure this area gets from the PA hunters and last years experiences.  I called a bit and soon a form melted into view... another hunter.  He came up on me and we chatted a bit and went our separate ways.  He said there was another car in the lot he started at and neither of us had heard a peep yet.   I slow hunted back along the ridge but never heard or saw a thing.  I checked out my mushroom patch before leaving, but there were no morels either. I went back to camp at noon.  Was this going to be a challenging camp?

Back at camp I had some chili and set up my tipi.  Nobody saw much, there were some feathers in the lot so I figured some hunting pressure had taken a bird last week.  Chris went to take a nap and I went 45 minutes back down the road to fish for trout at a stocked stream.  I got there to very low water conditions and a thick scummy algae over most of the roads and floating away on the top.  There was only one deep hole and all the fish were there.  I saw a big 3 pound rainbow and a couple 17 inchers cruising.  They were rising occasionally to something small.  The current was very slow, there was floating scum, and the wind was blowing the surface stuff upstream. Difficult conditions. I was using a dry fly with a small midge.  Very difficult to fish as I would hook scum or catch it on the drift.  I did have the big boy do a quadruple take on my caddis, but he didn't take the bait.  I fished for over 2 hours and only caught one 7 incher that I put back on the midge dropper.  The rest of the stream was very low and shallow.

Back at camp our friend Jeff made us some antelope backstrap and it was delicious!  Definitely the hit of the weekend food wise.  My brother decided to give me our grandfather's box call.  I had no idea Chris had this, and I didn't even know my grandfather hunted turkey.  I knew he was a big squirrel hunter.  How cool!  The call was stamped 1958!  It sounded great too.  I decided I would use it the rest of the trip.

The next morning I decided to hunt the back side of the mountain walking from camp.  It was warm and I was hunting in a light t shirt pretty much.  I was ¼ of the way up the mountain as it was getting light and I finally heard some gobbling off to the left and up high.  So, I headed in that general direction going up a hogback between two creek bottoms. I would sneak a bit, make a few soft clucks with grandpas box, and scan the trees and listen.  I finally got up to within sight of the ridge top.  The gobbling was still going on when I heard the gunshot.  Then all was quiet.  I was approaching the last bench before the top, and I had planned to sit up there and wait.  While I was about 100 yards short, I made my couple clucks and listened...then continued to the bench edge.  I found a good-sized tree and sat down against it, took grandpas call out of my pocket and placed it on my leg and settled in.  I was about to make my first calling sequence when I hear steps over my right shoulder.  I was pretty sure I would see a deer standing there, but 45 yards away was a blue headed Tom!  I felt the need to get to my knees and turn to raise the gun, looking back I should have simply shifted the gun and shot him with my left hand (now that I am bow shooting left this would be easy). As I turned it saw me and started running before cruising down the mountain!  You dolt, you blew it again.  Why can't I be patient and think. I figured this bird heard my last call and was scanning down the slope that way, I bumbled into a great opportunity.  Anyway, it was great to have that chance!  The others saw no birds.

On the way out I found a great high mountain meadow with a nice, trail that had turkey sign all over it.  I sat there for a bit and had a huge donkey doe walk by me with 2 yearlings. She passed by in bow range and I had some excitement thinking it was a turkey coming up the hill.  

Back at camp I thawed out 2 bags of pheasant and chukar legs, and slow cooked them in the dutch oven with potatoes to soak up the gravy.  Yum!

At this point our friends Dave and Evan decided to cancel and would not be joining us.  Jeff had to leave, so it was just my friend Brent and I in the tipi, and Chris and Walter in his camper.  In MD you can't hunt after noon, and I didn't feel like going back to the scum stream so we just shot bows, drank coffee (and some nightcaps), and shot the bull that evening.

The next morning, I had a plan to carry my two good decoys up the road to that nigh mountain meadow.  Chris and Walter were supposed to be hunting near camp, and they left out well ahead of me.  I finally got my stuff together and at first light started hearing gobbles up on the hill.  I was high tailing it up the forest trail to the meadow when I came up on Walter!  I asked him where he was going and he said he changed his mind and went towards the gobbles and he planned to go in my spot.  I told him I would continue up the trail towards the top above him, but had no idea now where I would go set up.  I was a little miffed, and even more so, when above I came to a hogback that had a series of cliffs across it, with no way to cross.  By this time I was a sweaty mess, was fuming, and had no idea where to go.  I back tracked across the mountain away from the gobbles we heard.  

Then divine providence hit and I heard a gobble relatively close by below me!  I looked around and I was on the edge of a little wooded bench in some pine grove.  I scanned for an area to set up my decoys when I heard another gobble down there and it sounded louder!  I hastily chose an open spot on the edge of the bench where something from below might see my decoys and put in the hard plastic realistic jake and the other pretty detailed hen out from my old military C bag I carried them in.  I looked around and saw one of the only tree trunks big enough to provide some cover, and scratched out the leaves, sat on my C bag, and put up the gun towards my decoys.  Because of the bench I could not see anything coming up, but if something popped up it should be in range.  I took out grandfather's call and made 3 yelps and the Tom sounded off in response.  I waited a few seconds and repeated, and he also responded.  I put down the call, shouldered gun and waited knowing he knew exactly where I was now.  Sitting up against the tree with my elbows on my knees I was frozen using my full peripheral vision to scan for movement in the eerie silence.  I had the muzzle pointed towards the decoys and time seemed to drag by quietly.  

Then I saw a white head pop up about 12 feet from my decoys... He appeared to be strutting, but I could not see anything but the head at this point due to him being below the bench.  He was stepping closer to my dekes when I trained the bead of my shotgun on his head and followed.  He stopped sideways and there was a branch across my field of vision between us that ran sideways.  I saw him look towards me over this stick, and then his head raised seemingly 6 or 7 inches like he was extending an extension ladder.  I feared he saw something he didn't like, so I put the bead just under his chin and squeezed loose my shot! I instantly knew he was hit as he rolled backwards, but then whirled and began to fly.  I struggled to get to my feet and pump another shell into the Remington as I ran to the edge of the bench I lost sight of him behind.  I stopped for a milli-second, but saw nothing so I ran down the hillside another 25 yards and stopped to look and listen.  I heard what could only be described as a gurgling of blood cackle that sounded like it was in the trees nearby, but I saw and heard nothing further.  I listened intently...thought I might hear blood drops falling, hear a 35-pound bird crash against the ground, or at least signs of running or flapping.  Nothing.

After a while I started my search. 

The woods were still very sparse, and I could see much of the open forest floor at any given point.  I scanned with binos and started searching in a wide circle looking up and down.  Eventually, I went back up to the decoys and found lots of promising blood splatter, a few feathers...he was definitely hit and since all I could see was head and neck....  how?!  I saw that I had peppered that horizontal branch a bit between us too.  I started an exhaustive search of the area in grid patterns.  I searched for several hours and traveled around ¼ mile in radius with never another sign.  I checked out hollow logs, holes, cavities of tree trunks...everything.

Reflecting back, I did everything right this time.  The only thing I could even think of is maybe shooting higher a touch, but before my gun patterned a bit high.  I paced off the shot at 37 steps.  Nothing but head and neck.  He should be dead on the ground in front of me, but that is hunting I guess.  Makes up for that other unlucky bird I got with only 2 pellets in the neck I suppose...  hurts though.  Anyway, it was a good learning experience on pressured public land.  Not sure if I will get a chance after them again with my busy schedule.  Chris and Walter are going back this week to try again.

Wrangled A lunker Rainbow and a Tight Lining Schooling

Sunday was windy and colder as a cold front approaches.  I had the chance to head out back to the bigger creek where the stockers are.  I knew the DNR had put a couple bigger ones in there with rumors of 26 plus inch fish.  I also knew on a Sunday it would be busy and hoped the weather would hold back a few.

When I got there, there were fisherman lining the bank so I went on the opposite side and found an area away from my competition.  I immediately caught a small rainbow on the midge, but was having trouble getting deep enough with the slightly swollen currents and the wind.  I lost a fly to the trees when my deep spot opened up, and I went back across the river to it.

I started to catch a few fish and was working on my 5 fish limit, but it was going slow.  I did have a slightly bigger fish at 13 inches.  Then I saw a guy wading in the spot I just left.  He was tight lining as well and I watched him pull in one fish after another!  He caught like 8 fish in 15 minutes (he was releasing them all) and I had been there for about an hour with only 3 fish.  That was humbling, but I was still doing better than all the spin folks I could see.  Humbling though for sure.

Finally, I switched to a chartreuse heavy mop fly on the point to get down and I nailed a 14 inch rainbow which gave me a great fight.  I got back into position and lost my dropper midge on a rock, so I only had the garish green mop fly on now.  I think that let me get a bit deeper perhaps, but I nice fish was hooked!  This thing had a paddle for tail!  It was a fight.  At this point no one was around, so I fought him well and got him landed with heart pounding.  I snapped a pic for AI before depositing him in my lunchbox creel. (Maybe I need to get an old school whicker one?). I stopped using a stringer because too many people were seeing me catch stuff and crowding me out LOL.  It was a heavy fish!  I ended up getting my last fish for the limit of 5 around hour 2.5.  

The big one was weird.  It was only 17 ¼ inches long but weighed 3 pounds 7 oz.  It didn't qualify as a MD trophy to my surprise.  My last fish was 23 inches and didn't weigh that much!  It was a football stuffed with eggs.

Well, so much for the AI tech.  It said it was 19 plus inches and over 4 pounds... that thing is just not reliable on bigger fish.

This work week is short.  I need to pack because after my hockey game Wed night, I get 4 hours sleep and I will be driving to hunt turkey and camp through Saturday morning!  I can't wait.  Should be a good camp.  know my brother will be there with the camper, our friend Jeff, my friend Brent, and fellow Sunset shooter Evan should also arrive.  I will have my tipi as not enough time for the wall tent.  I can't wait!  I quote the great Bocephus, "I need a little time off for bad behavior...I've been too good for too long"!

Wild Brown Trout - A Trip to Beaver Creek

Saturday was the opener of turkey season, but alas I was not able to get out.  I had to bring my son to TKD leadership class at 9 and then drop him off at scouts for a campout at 11am.

Then, I was driving a half hour West to fish a small stream that holds wild browns for about an hour while my wife was at a lunch date with a previous coworker.  I'll take what I can get.  This small creek was fly fishing only and catch and release.

I set out on the stream and there was one other truck in the lot.  I kept wondering why the water was a little murky, but it was because he was ahead of me wading.  I ended up catching a small wild brown right away (adipose fin was not clipped so I know it wasn't a stocker), then wrangled a small rainbow from a deep hole.  I didn't have much time and had to leave to continue on to my father-in-laws 80 birthday dinner in PA. 

I was happy with myself that I had caught a few after the other fellow had already gone through above me.

Deer Soap -Another Reason to Butcher Your Own

When I am fortunate enough to kill a deer with my primitive longbow setup, I am increasingly using more and more of the deer.  This last year was challenging, yet I was still able to get a flintlock doe off of public land.  I consolidated the fat trimmings from my previous two deer, and now with three deer's worth of fat, I was ready to make some soap.

Since I butcher my own meat, making a separate pile of fat trimmings was easy.  I had three piles going of trimmed meat/fat.  One pile was for the grinder and consumption, one was where the fatty pieces went, and a third was for bloodshot and less desirable trimmings for my sister's cat.  I simply froze or refrigerated these piles in ziplock bags until it was time to process them.

The first step is to render the fat out of the trimmings.  This is the easy step.  All you need to do is add a few cups of water to a slow cooker, and dump in your fat, and walk away for a few hours.  Slow cook for 5-8 hours and then strain out the cracklings and meaty bits in a strainer lined with cheese cloth or an old t-shirt.  Put the strained mixture into a pot and allow it to chill.  I put the pot in the refrigerator, or you can put it outside if it is winter. 

After the tallow disk has solidified, remove it and scrape away all the little bits from the underside with a knife.  I will do this process a second time by melting all the tallow, then chilling and scraping again until you have this nice white disk of tallow.  When I had a second or third deer, I would just render the entire thing again.  The more times you render it the more contaminants you get out, until you have a nice white disk.

I just kept this disk in the refrigerator, but next time I will pour it into canning jars the last render for easier storing and rendering when it is time to make soap.  You can either melt the jars in a water bath slowly or put the mason jars in the microwave like I did this time.

The soap making process was fairly easy from internet calculators and instructions and I will not go into details about that process here.  I only had to purchase a kitchen scale to weigh out the ingredients, and I mixed everything in a bowl with a whisk.  I made my first batch with peppermint essential oil because I wasn't sure how it would smell and that is what I had on hand.  I also added a little Cerave moisturizer. I poured the hot mixture into some old candy containers for molds I kept from the trash.  The soap came out great and I have been using it daily.  Another great use for a part of the deer usually discarded.

There is not much I now leave to the foxes when I am successful.  

Here is a list and how I use it:

Heart - Yummy breakfast!

Head - Buck will be a euro mount

Hide - Tanned for buckskin or crafts

Fur on - tanned for rug, wall decor, or dyed or bleached for fly tying.

Tail - Dried and salted for flies (salt and freshwater) sometimes dyed.

Sinew - From back and legs.  Dried and kept for bow backing, arrows, repairs, and crafts

Long bones and scapula - Bone Broth

Ribs - Roasted, Eat them!  Yum

Meat - Ground, stew, roasts, steaks (canned, processed into bologna or sausage, or frozen)

Fat - Rendered for soap and maybe candles.

Scraps - ground for cat food

What I leave behind:

Guts (offal)

4 lower legs and hoofs (note* I have kept a set of hooves for selfnock re-enforcement before)

Spine and pelvic girdle.

Lower Jaw

Deer can be used in so many ways. When you are lucky enough to get one with traditional bows, it seems like a logical thing to make the most of it. 

Jack Daniels If You Please

Looking out my window at the snow and sleet still covering the grass, I've pondered the recent events and the changes on the horizon. It has been said that the only constant in life is change, and as I get older, I believe age may speed up the perception of those changes.  

Back at the beginning of February, I again applied for the pot of leftover tags in Idaho to elk hunt.  The group of 4 of us had not drawn tags and we agree to put in the same areas and order.  We pulled the trigger and awaited our outcome again.  Finally, the email arrived and we were greeted with the bitter taste of disappointment once again.  It seems the changes nationally to the opportunities for elk now favor those that can afford, or are willing, to put in for and get points in multiple states over multiple years.  The states see the opportunity and require non-refundable licenses just to enter the draws.  I am old fashioned a bit, and it just rubs me the wrong way as hunting and fishing used to be things "everyday folks" could do without spending a small fortune.  I've been hunting "my way" for elk and have yet to harvest an animal in over 16 trips with my low-tech sticks.  I'm not complaining, but now it seems that if I need to spend that much money just to hunt, I am encouraged to use a weapon that will bring quicker success.  Well, that is not for me, and I'll likely not be making those trips again.  This year, we may try to get OTC deer tags and hunt in October since the 4 of us have licenses now, but I doubt I will be putting in for Idaho elk again.  Times have changed.

Back in my home state of Maryland, the assembly is busy passing laws that prohibit lead ammo for hunting and imposing a HUGE tax on ammunition as they continue the war on guns...an in-adamant object, while simultaneously attacking law enforcement all in the name of safety?  As it stands there is a recruitment problem with hunters.  Less and less hunters forced on dwindling lands and they decide to make it more expensive?!  This will only reduce future hunter recruitment and only serve to enrich the ammo and gear manufacturers while providing no real benefit to the environment.  How many shots does one take while hunting? What does it mean for those like me who want to use the flintlock.  I guess more inevitable and uncontrollable changes.

Recently, I decided to try to unplug and get away to a local trout stream to fish.  The DNR posted that they had stocked this stream with 500 fish just 2 weeks ago.  I set out with high hopes to try out some of my newly tied flies and practice my skills.  I was joined by my friend Mike, and we enjoyed a nice few hours knee deep in some cold clear water.  Well, it became obvious that there was no way DNR stocked that many fish.  I talked to close to 10 other fishermen and only one claimed to have even seen a single trout.  Lied to again.

All this makes one want to drink!  Well, instead I decided to tie up a few Jack Daniels pattern flies.  Dreaming of a time when I can get to a lonely piece of stream and try my luck on some fish.  Not buy them, but coax them in, to a homemade treat. Not sure that is a lot to ask. 

Winter Lock-in and Loss of my Last Private Hunting Area

I wanted to give an update since I have not posted since December, and lot of drama has ensued since then.  Usually, I would have posted some adventures and activities in the hunting realm by now seeing that Maryland's liberal seasons run through the first week of February these days for "primitive" archery.

First of all, fate conspired against me at the home front, when my next-door neighbor made it clear to my wife that she was enjoying feeding the deer and turkey and watching them from her driveway.  As a means to keep good will with her, my wife decided that I should no longer hunt on my 5-acre back woods.  

Near about the same time, another neighbor two houses over gave permission to an out-of-state crossbow hunter to hunt on the hill across from my cul-des-sac.  I had been keeping an eye on a large buck during the rut, and one morning I had a knock on my door from the fellow across.  He said he had shot a "large buck" the night before and wanted permission to look in my front woods for him.  He thought, "He made a good shot".  I helped him look but the deer was nowhere to be found.  This left a bit of a bad taste in my mouth but heck, anyone can make a bad shot even with technology.

Then, as the second muzzleloader season approached, I reached out to the landowner of the property I was allowed to bowhunt and told him I was excited to resume chasing deer there.  He informed me that he had a contractor working in the woods to start a solar farm on the fields, and that I wasn't allowed to hunt the remainder of the year and to find another spot in the future.  Dang, I was not a public land hunter 100%.

Not being one to be dissuaded, I decided to pour some effort into the public land hunting.  I went out and hunted hard an area I had hunted about 10 years before.  I saw limited sign, and only found one deer that I kicked out of very thick laurel.  This was going to be tough, but at least I could scout the rest of the year.

As I got home that morning and pulled back into my yard, there was something odd laying in my side yard.  I investigated and found a small buck that had been gut-shot, and the foxes had already started on the hind quarters.  I had seen the out-of-state hunter the night before parked.  He did it again, another poor shot and unrecovered deer.  Now, my deer-loving neighbor had not apparently seen this as I quickly disposed of the carcass, but she was already on a mission to petition all neighbors and ban hunting on the properties.  She was citing our covenant that had some vague verbiage about any activity that was deemed "offensive to the community."  I had hunted there for 15 years without incident or issue.  What a bummer.  I could say her concentrating the deer through my landscaping was "Offensive" to me, as well as the increasing likelihood of disease and tick illness spreading near my house...

Then, the winter weather closed in, and things have been pretty frozen and brutal of late, so I doubt I will get out again this season.

Meanwhile, our group failed to draw an Idaho elk tag as well.  So, we will try again for the leftover tags Feb 5th. Another blow.

I've still been shooting the bow when I can to keep sharp, but of late I have just been tying flies, making jerky, and working on some tallow soap in the future. Things are so frozen that fishing isn't even an option.  

I did manage to get another manuscript for an article in TBM accepted.  It will be a recipe article for making bone broth from deer bones.  

Also, around Valentines Day, I have a long weekend trip to Daytona beach, and I planned to bring my flyrod and try a little from the beach.  I was disgruntled to learn I would need a 3-day Florida fishing license, and even more shocked when I read that I could not purchase that online.  I will not have a vehicle to get to a retail outlet, so I guess I will not be fishing there either.  Wow, I would expect that kind of thing from Maryland, but not Florida.  Oh well, foiled for throwing a simple Clouser minnow in the surf by the bureaucratic red tape.   

I will be back at it and scouting the public land in the spring, but life has decided to throw some challenges.  I'm not complaining, as life goes on and these small things are but a "thing".  

Stay Safe my Friends!

  

Late Firearms Public Land Hunt - Success with the Flintlock at Last

 

A Cold Camp

 

I had plans to take off work on Friday and so I would be driving up to the Mountains on Thursday evening after work to set up camp.  Camp this weekend would only consist of my fellow elk hunting bud Jeff and myself. Evan was supposed to attend but his family caught a case of Norovirus and he had to cancel.  Chris has a social engagement Friday evening, so he decided not to come and hunted local. A cold front had come up on Thursday morning and dumped cold air and some flurries up there in the hills.  There were several inches of snow forecast on Saturday afternoon, so we were between fronts and I had high hopes of deer movement. Temps were in the 20’s as I rolled into camp and set up my tipi after dark.  Jeff had come in about 5 hours before, so he had a nice fire going in his stove.  It was damned cold, and he cooked me up a nice sausage with onions and peppers for dinner after I had my tent up.  I then, set to work on prepping the longgun.  Even the big 8-man tent was too low for proper ramming of the barrel, so I went outside shortly after this photo:

I had already cleaned out all the gun oil back at home with a rinse with acetone, being careful not to get any on the stock.  I loaded the pan with a bit of FFFFg Goex and fired the pan once and it went off solidly, so my flint seemed in good shape.  I swabbed out the bore with a cleaning patch, then stuck the quill of a pheasant feather into the touch hole.  I poured down 80 grains of FFFg Goex down the barrel, then set my cleaning patch in as an over powder wad.  I have read that this may help with protecting the powder from Patch grease of the main patch and it cleans some of the powder down which may have stuck to the side walls.  Then, I started the .490 round ball with a .020 pre-lubed patch (I am still using what I inherited from my dad or otherwise I would have made my own with bear grease).  I seated the ball sprue up on the muzzle and started it with my short starter.  It was a tight fit…that is good! 

Ramming it home well I bounced the ramrod off the ball a few times to ensure I was well seated and put the rifle in the truck at half cock to stay cold, condensation may have been an issue with it in the tent. 

Preparations now being completed I went back in the tent with Jeff, had a few snorts of fine bourbon he brought and chatted about hunting and fishing until it was time to go to my tent and stick up the fire there.  Sleep was sporadic and I was up feeding the little stove about once every hour, but with temps outside in the teens it was cozy.

Here is a photo of the camp the next morning, there was no one else in camp …we had the place to ourselves;

 

A Crackling Cold Friday morning.

I got up Friday morning, as I often do, before the alarm.  I loaded up the little stove and fired up the coffee pot eating a sourdough English muffin and breakfast bar.  It had snowed and sleeted enough overnight to create a fresh coating of snow on the ground.  In this area, we have the luxury of driving up a forest road to the top of the mountain ridge, so I warmed up the truck and Jeff and I got driving.  We just had to circle around the mountain and drive up the road.  I saw only one or two sets of tracks in the fresh snow from other trucks, so that was good.  One truck was lower down, and we were heading to the top.

It was first light by the time I had my pack seat on my back and clicked the lock on the truck doors.  I had about a mile walk ahead of me, but it was fairly flat and across mountain.  The area I wanted to hunt was between the ridge and the top of a big, abandoned orchard.  The area is very thick and chocked with creeper vines in the green times.  I have seen deer almost every time I have a few hours to sit there, but getting in bow range is always the trick.  Now I had a few more yards of range to play with!  I sat under a vine chocked bush I had bow hunted from before and had a view on my right of the ridge top which was more open.  The front was the edge of the thick stuff, and down to the left was another lane to see if something comes from that way.  The wind was blowing in my face!  Always lots of squirrel in this area too.

I was set up, had my big wool heavy blanket pants on with 800 gram merino wool longjohns and a thinner merino wool base layer.  I put on my heavy plaid wool coat that I had folded in my packseat on the hike in. I had insulated over shoes on top of my heavy 1500 gram insulted boots and toe warmers in each.  I was going to be comfy sitting for a handful of hours.  I settled in with my rifle on top of a telescoping rifle stick and cozied down to watch the squirrels play.

Here is the view looking downhill, thick area to the right…

This is the view from the front where I expected deer:

The moment of Truth

I had been sitting there fairly comfortable despite the 20 degree and overcast conditions for about half an hour, when I saw movement to the right of the picture above…a white flash that at first looked like a squirrel’s tail, but I soon saw it was the white underside of a deer’s Jaw.  I raised my binos and identified the lone deer as a doe, and readied my rifle on the stick.  She was in thick stuff and quartering towards me, but I had hopes she would continue in that direction into the more open area.  I had not refreshed the powder in my pan since I sat down….would things go off without a hitch…that was also in the back of my mind.

I cocked back the hammer to full cock and waited.  She, as they commonly do, had other plans.  She was very weary and on constant high alert.  This was the final weekend of a two week gun season, as well as a week of previous muzzle loader on this highly pressured public land.  Creeping and to my dismay, she was heading to the left, and towards the impenetrable tangle of deadfall and vines.  If she kept going that way she may continue downhill and go away forever….

 

She was between 45 -50 yards away in heavy brush, I needed a window and a broadside chance at that distance.  After a bit she stepped into a narrow view where I saw the front leg.  I clicked back the set trigger, and steadied on that spot just behind the shoulder with the very top of the front blade. The hair trigger was a surprise and the smoke filled BOOOOM echoed down the mountainside.  Through the smoke I see her big white tail up and running a bit to the right.

I first saw her in the square and she ended up in the star when I fired:

 

Half the battle was won.  The rifle fired without a delay.  Now the other half was in question…did I make a hit?  And did I imagine a crashing sound after she had run off?

Blood on the ground?

I reloaded the front stuffer from the horn and loading block and kicked off my overshoes.  I went to where I thought she was standing, but saw no sign of blood or hair…Oh no.  I decided to circle back to the right where I thought she went…nothing.  I started to panic.

Then I went back to the shot site and searched again a little farther back.  There, I saw blood.  Dark and red and frozen on the heads of The matted tan week seed heads and grass.  It was so cold the blood froze almost on contact with the ground in star pattens.

It wasn’t great blood, but it was steady and I could follow it fairly well.  The doe ran straight away from me as it turns out and traveled quite a ways after being struck.  I was about 70 yards after the hit area, when I crossed a rocky short wall of rocks that began an area of thick laurel.  I crept slowly at the ready in case she decided to jump up still alive.  Then, I heard walking to my right.  A line of 7-8 does was approaching!  The lead doe was large and offered my a quick chance at about the same 50 yard distance through brush as the one I was trailing.  I cocked back the hammer but a feeling of cautiousness rolled over me as I was recreating a shot that maybe wasn’t the best, and doing so freehand.  Should I shoot?  She helped me answer as the window closed and they all flowed by me nervously never a clear shot in the open.  I really didn’t want to deal with another iffy shot when I had one down that I may still not find…or may.

After they had gone I eased the hammer back and continued to follow easy blood.  Then about 15 yards farther down, maybe 8o yards from the shot, I see her laying there. 

A nice fat adult doe, and about a perfect double lung shot.

 

The area made it clear that she had expired very quickly and maybe that was her crashing I heard not long after the shot.  The trail reminded me of a bow kill.

There was splatter on a nearby tree trunk in that star pattern as the blood froze on contact.

 

I was very happy, and now I could use the packout bags for the first time.  I wasn’t about to drag this doe out of the woods for a mile back to the truck.  I searched my pocket for the yellow folding knife that Nate gifted me to start skinning, but I had left it in my other pants.  Oh well, I pulled out my newly acquired Green River hunter I had under my coat and around my neck as a neck knife and it did a careful job skinning as I began the gutless method.  I had my first chance to use my TAG game bags and Pack out bags.  Alas not on an elk, and when I unfolded the pack out bags, I found the shoulder plastic supports were dry rotted and cracking LOL.  I wanted the hide on this to tan, so I was careful not to cut any holes.  I found out that all I needed was 2 big elk bags, as I could put a hind quarter and a front from each side in each bag.  Then I used a smaller nag for the loins, tender loins, and all the neck, skirt meat, and rest of the trimmings. It all went fairly smoothly, and I found teasing out the tenderloins to be easier than I thought it would be.  I did forget about the heart in all the excitement, only remembering it halfway back to the truck.  Dang!  I never cracked open the chest to get at it and forgot.

I had a pretty balanced load with a leg bag in both the front and back with the hide rolled up in front and the scrap/loin back in back.  I slung this over my waldrop seat and started on my walk back.  This is when I wished I didn’t have those heavy insulated boots!  I made it about a ¼ of the way before I had to make my first break, but it was MUCH easier than trying to drag all that way.  From there I made many stops to catch my breath and my hamstrings were streaming by the time I got back to the clearcut.

Jeff was supposed to be waiting for me there and he was.  But when I got closer he waved me to stop!  He apparently had spotted something way down the powerline and was trying to acquire the target with his high tech suppressed 6.5 PRC rifle (yeah I had to look that up) but after a while I heard no shot and he waved me in.  Apparently, he was waiting for me and playing on his phone when he looked up and saw a deer moving down below in thick cover.  He got in position to shoot and lost sight of it for good.  At least it gave me a chance to rest.

Got back to the truck and headed back to camp.

Victory is sweet - tasting!

Back at camp, we warmed up and I shared some of my award winning (yes, I came in 3^rd place at my work chili cook off) venison chili and enjoyed some camp camaraderie.  I decided that because I was now “hunting horns” as my brother would say, I would use my old new to me 30-30 with scope the rest of the hunt.  This zone only allows one doe and one buck so I was now only hunting antlered bucks.   I had never killed anything with this old marlin lever gun that I bought from Mike, who inherited it from his father.  I figured the extra range and optics might be good to see antlers way out there if necessary.  I don’t hunt with it much so here we go.

That evening (Friday) we hunted around camp.  We knew the traffic was increasing and Saturday morning would be filled with other hunters for the weekend.  It was the last day of gun season.  Jeff had a doe in his sights again, but this time he decided to stop it with a bleet before shooting as it was walking.  The crafty doe took 2 more steps and stopped behind a tree.  That was all for that opportunity!  I didn’t see anything that evening and didn’t last long as I just put on my beaners with no toe warmers. I got back to camp to stoke a good fire and fry up some strap medallions completed with boiled small potatoes.  We ate in the hot tent again like kings with a few Modelo and some more of that bourbon.  I was a happy camper and my legs were feeling it! 

 

The next morning would be our last to hunt and I planned to hunt around the camp again as to avoid the crush of hunters up on the ridge.  It was again a very cold night but clear stars out…tomorrow a cold front..4-6 inches here starting around 3pm.  The deer should be moving!  Would the old lever gun see action? 

The Final Countdown 

Woke up again before the alarm.  Jeff was slow to rise, but I had some sourdough muffins and coffee ready in short order.  That damned little stove had the tent so hot, I had to leave the flap open to eat my chow.   We headed out to hunt and I knew of a little ridge overlook that had some real thick stuff, an open field behind, and I had seen good sign there before.  I was stillhunting my way up to the top thinking to myself how nice the little rifle slung over my shoulder was as I had my hands stuffed into my pockets.  It was quiet out but every minute or so, the stillness was shattered by rifle shots from across the road up on that ridge.  The deer were really taking a beating this morning.  Deer were apparently indeed moving!  As I neared the edge of the field I spotted orange sitting right below where I planned to set down.  Dang!  Plan B, I backed down and out and doubled back towards the access road to a handicapped spot a mile or so down. 

The road ran a ridge and there was a steep hillside on each side.  I got down about a half mile from the hunter and sat with my back to a trunk and watched the adjacent hill.  My plan was to sit here and around 8:30am move back to the other side as Jeff was hunting over that side and he said he had to return to camp at 9am.  He may push something perhaps.

I was sitting there and it was still…Rifle shots still sounded like the battle of Lexington was going on over the hill.  Then, I heard deer steps…you know a little different than squirrels.  I strained to see on the other hill but couldn’t see anything for the longest time.

Then I saw the deer.  It was big bodied, head down, and had a deep chest.  I thought it may be a buck.  Dropped the binos and raised up the 4x scope.  Spotting it I cocked the hammer and tried to see any sign of antlers.  It was about 160 yards away on the adjacent hillside and in some thicker cover.  I had it go behind a closer trunk and waited for it to emerge out of the other side, still unsure if it was a buck or doe.  Then it pulled a Houdini and disappeared like deer sometimes do at that range.  Never heard it or saw it again!

Dang, I was betting it was a buck and it came from the direction of up top near where the other hunter was.  I should have been down the hill closer.

At 8:30am I switched sides and by 9am nothing was coming so I headed back up to the road.  There I saw the other hunter from up top who stopped to chat with me.  He told me he had "walked around up there all morning and not kicked out anything."  I chuckled.  He also said he had 500 acres he had permission to hunt on private land, but he just felt like trying the public and leaving that area to his brother and his son to hunt.  Ugh, I could bet he was from PA also.  The mountain was crowded.

Anyway, that was all the action.  Jeff didn’t see a thing. We packed up ahead of the snow and left.  Back home I had a bunch of meat to process. I awoke the next day to several inches of snow on the ground and made myself busy boning out meat,  rendering tallow, getting ready to make some bone broth, marinating some fresh jerky, and getting gear cleaned and put away.

Next weekend is the start of a week-long muzzleloader season and I am hoping the landowner will let me hunt that hay farm with it.  He has seen some heavy coyote action in recent days so I told him I would shoot that as well if seen!  I hope he says yes and the wife does too LOL.

Then it is back to bow until the end of January