B. Dunn
First deer of 2002
Bow Kill
Now It Begins...
I say that because I now have my first deer of the season under the old proverbial belt, and boy does it feel good. That is what most of this report deals with but first a little catch-up and an observation or two.
Bill Franze and I finally got to hunt together, an uneventful but enjoyable morning hunt where we had scouted together. His wife even sent a more than tasty tunafish submarine type sandwich along for me. Thanks, Olivia. That same day, Randy had invited Bill to accompany us on an evening hunt, by boat, to the farm, so Randy and Bill finally got to meet and I think they hit it off well. They seemed to like each other - no accounting for some people's tastes. Anyway, that made me think about this subject and made me want to talk about it in general. This may not seem like any big deal to some folks but to hunters who care it is never to be taken lightly and means a great deal to all of us. This is glaringly more true all the time as hunting opportunities and locations shrink around us every year. Any new opportunity is to be treasured, fostered, and protected. In a case like that it is very important to be honestly yourself but at the same time be putting your best hunting boot forward, so to speak. Taking another hunter into any of your hunting spots is almost akin to letting someone borrow your toothbrush. Randy saw three deer that evening but Bill and I, sitting nearer each other, saw nothing by the way. It was still a good getting acquainted type hunt overall and Bill's first time to use a boat to go hunting. Opening new vistas to him (at his advanced stage - couldn't resist that, buddy) you could say. There is a real old adage that goes something like, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. This is especially true among hunters, though some don't realize or practice it. Hunting, like all hobbies, has its proponents for and against almost any line of thought, practice, and/or reasoning one would like to come up with. However if you are going to be truly welcome at another man's campfire, you have to be careful to match your behavior to his theories, especially if they happen to be more stringent than yours. It is important to not do things on his hunting grounds that he tries hard not to do, whether you agree with it or not. Particularly when it comes to things that are designed and practiced in order to increase the normally low odds of seeing game. Don't get me wrong, I know people who smoke like a wood burning steam engine all the while they are in a stand (I used to also) - and deer run all over them - but that does not necessarily make it the best practice. Some people are lucky like that but I can't help wonder how much more game those folks might see if they didn't do things like that. My point being it can be very intimidating and or a little strained when joining a hunt with new friends and therefore when we are in that kind of position we all should try to think more about the other's habits than our own practices. It is never an easy piece of pie and many a banana peel can be found underfoot when and where least expected. All hunters who travel these trails successfully should be given high marks on diplomatic protocol at the very least. I remember when Rose and I returned to Coastal NC after spending Ma's final six years with her in Maine. We pulled into our insurance agent's lot the day after arriving. A car parked there sported a logo type license plate that stated, "We don't give a damn how you did it up North!" We simultaneously broke into peals of appreciative laughter. No matter what region, local, or part of the country you were to apply that to, nothing could stand folks in better stead when trying to fit into any place or situation. I like to try hard to keep that "gentle" admonition in mind as often as possible. Otherwise you hear friend Allen, or someone like him, saying, "You ain't from aroun here, are ya, boy?" I know, I know, guys and gals - "get off your soapbox, Bernie. " OK, OK.
Saturday morning, one week after local bow season opened. Bill had gone to his club in the northern part of the state (no report yet) and Randy and I had been going to hunt the farm together, apart - if you know what I mean. However, family commitments gave him need to return to SC Friday evening, as he informed me from his cell phone, en-route. I started thinking were I would sit the next AM, even as we spoke. At o-dark-thirty the next morning just before pulling into the farm, I was still trying to decide between two spots. A deer, of the buck persuasion, interrupted my train of thought by running across the hardtop road. He was good size and I saw some antler glint. Only 5:45 and he was heading with a purpose back to the boonies, yikes. As I traversed the front fields in my little pickup I decided to take the stand deeper in of the two I was considering. It would give more time for deer to reach me. I opted to return to the place I had been using on about four hunts at the end of last season when I was trying to fill my last tag using my bow. It had not come to pass, as the deer I saw were always moving too fast or too far out of reach. It was a good area for deer returning from fields though and this year the fields have "better" stuff in them. It meant a fair walk with my climbing stand but I had time and knew the exact tree. Once in the tree and trying to cool down from the muggy heat and sweat I watched daylight reveal what I had overlooked. Much more foliage in early fall like this and my area of observation and good shot opportunities were drastically reduced. Oh well, bite the bullet and be thankful for the added cover - it says so right here in fine print. Sitting there I gave thought (envy) to how Little Dave had got a buck the first morning of the season and his dad, my boss, got a doe his first evening out. I also considered how I had seen eleven or twelve deer the first AM but no shot availed itself to me. It was about then that I had my customary talk with The Lord but modified it just a tad. "Lord, please let me see a deer today - but if you could work it in could you bring them where I could get a shot at them this time? ... and then help me to be good enough today to make it count, please." No, folks, I don't really want to trivialize our Lord's problems but I do feel it is always good to remind myself that everything is pretty much better off when left in his hands, and it's always so easy to talk to him out there by myself. I really mean it; try it sometime, you'll like it - and it couldn't hurt.
I had put some Bow Hunter's Set-up attractant out on a couple or three bushes before climbing my tree, and while cooling down I was calling a little with doe bleats every fifteen minutes or so. I was feeling pretty darned good about everything and had remembered that while my visibility was cut down, I did have small amounts of water on almost all sides of me that should help in the forewarning department. That is if I could hear it over all the squirrel noises. I was a little higher up the tree than usual, my stand was solid and I was relaxed, enjoying being there but just beginning to wonder if I had perhaps selected the wrong choice. Then I heard it with no mistake - deer crossing water. I checked my watch - 7:30 - as I stood up. What a relief and an adrenalin surge at the same time. I bleated again before hooking my release to my string loop. Then I saw them just through the foliage at clearing edge. Thank you, Lord. I already had my other call in my mouth to try to stop them in the small opening if they were traveling too fast, like in the past. I drew my bow and aimed where the larger of the two would enter the shot area. I prepared to suck on the no-hands call when it dawned on me she had stopped right where I wanted her and my pin had settled for the shot. I let it happen naturally and the arrow was there almost as fast as it left the bow. Thank you, Lord for that too. I knew the doe was hit hard and with any luck would not go far. The impact of the shot had knocked her to the ground and I heard the arrow snap in half were it had entered the ground beneath her far side, before she busted out of the clearing. I sat and listened to her relatively short progress through some water and then the telltale crash. I knew it was over but I sat for about twenty minutes to regain composure (and to be sure) before climbing down. Even though the vegetation was heavy the blood trail was pretty darned good and even though I had all my gear on I found her in short order. She had piled up shortly after passing through a very small marshy area. Thank you for all of your help this fine morning, Lord.
After marking the doe's position I crossed a creek and took my gear half way to my truck on a road where I could drive in to it. I then went back and dragged my prize up a hill and half way to where I had left my gear. That was enough! I was soaked again and breathing hard so I walked - slowly, carrying nothing, to the truck and returned to gather my equipment and treasured harvest. In no time it seemed (nineish) I was driving off the farm with the air conditioner going full blast. Just sucking on a DC (Diet Coke). The drive home was a glorious reliving of the lone hunt and its blessings - over and over. This old hoss was one happy old geezer. Upon reaching home, way earlier than Rose had expected me, that highly valued helpmate took some pictures for me and helped me finish the cleaning job. The doe had weighed 65 lbs. field dressed so about 90 # on the hoof. See a picture on Gallery, Pg6. As Jabo later observed, I now had my first one of the season and I could start looking for a buck next. Randy and Bill e-mailed me congratulations but without further reports of results for them. Thanks and better luck soon, guys
Back to: