It's a satisfying feeling to drive home from the processor at 5:30 pm seeing all the people coming home from work, knowing that they were in an office or at the work site all day while you were in the woods and your day in the woods was wonderful and you just dropped off your personal best, a seven point buck from public land.
I stopped to give myself a treat: a chocolate Frosty from Wendy's, and sipped it with a spoon as the last light fell in the west, golden, a day to be savored.
When I left the house that morning, I offered my usual prayer: "Lord, watch over my wife while I'm gone, help me not to hit a deer on the road. May I hunt well and make good decisions. Amen."
It was 26 degrees when I parked my old Tacoma. I had a half-mile walk to my chosen spot. One of the challenges of hunting when it's cold is to think through your clothing so that while walking out you don't turn into a sweating mess and end up shivering on the stand. My coat went in the back pack. I only wore a sweater over my inner layers.
I enjoy the walk out through the woods in the dark. This year I started using a walking stick, not because I'm unstable at 69, but I found that I can walk more quietly in dry leaves by transferring some of my weight to the stick and then placing my foot. It works. Try it.
I scouted the previous Sunday where I would hunt today. Now in my third year of deer hunting, I'm getting better at sorting through rubs and tracks and bedding and wind and pressure and picking an exact spot that best gives me an opportunity to see and not be seen from the ground, where there is not much margin for error.
Quiet. Don't you love that time when you're there, it's still dark, and you become a part of the woods? Not long after settling in, I heard heavy footsteps above me in the leaves in that swish, swish pattern of deer. There is a big boy in these woods that I have seen each of the last two years. That is, if no one got him this year. That may be his footsteps, checking for imposters.
No other sound except the poor souls up in a plane just taking off from the airport bound for business some place. Thank you Lord that I am not on that plane. Then birds start their morning competition for first chair in the band. It's morning!
Not long after legal shooting time, I hear steps again. Different direction than before. Coming closer. Can't see anything. No sound. Wait. Then more steps. Suddenly, there he is no more than 50 yards and coming this way. Man, how does this happen? He's got a good rack. He pauses and moves behind a tree. I move my gun slowly. He saw something. Light snort and he trots away about 75 yards and turns up a facing ridge. Walking slowly. Lots of brush. He pauses. No shot possible. Lord, give me just an opening. He walks. Stops again. Broadside to me but his shoulder/lung area is covered in brush. Turns his chest. Looks my way. Chest shot. Risky. 75 yards. Got to be exact. Sight carefully. Pull the trigger. Fire and smoke!
In the smoke from my muzzle loader I can't see his initial reaction but he ran downhill. I think I hear him stop. Then I hear him keep going. Did I hear him fall or what that wishful thinking? Not sure.
Wait. Walk through what just happened. Calm down. Wait. What a morning and it's only 7:05.
After waiting long enough I mark the spot where I last saw him and then the spot where he was when I shot. Ah! A couple spots of bright red blood. Move slowly. Semi circles. Whoa! Large splatter. Whoa! There is a visible trail ahead of red.
I follow the trail. Easy. Where in the world did I hit him to cause this kind of blood trail like I have never seen?
There he is. Done. About a 70 yard run. I hit him in the lower chest dead center and it was like someone pulled the drain plug: blood is still draining from the bottom of the chest.
I sit. Give thanks to God. Look at him. 4x3 seven pointer. Beautiful. Nice body. Nice rack. What a prize!
I pulled out my drag strap to move him to a better place for field dressing. Dragged him about 15'. Uh oh! Heavy! I am going to need help dragging him out.
Field dressing finished. I put an orange stocking cap on his nose in case someone else wanders by: yes, I am coming back.
I called a buddy. Remember when you offered to help if I needed help? Everyone needs a friend like Joe! I'll meet you at my truck Joe.
Back at the truck I savor my still warm oatmeal. Breakfast on the tail gate. Deer down. Friend coming. Who's got it better?
This is my fourth deer and the first time I've had help pulling it out. What fun talking and sharing stories and hearing him say, "I hope you know where we are because I'm lost." Joe also hunts. He had me take him through where I was, where the deer was and follows the red trail. He's as pumped as me.
We take our time. We have two good hills to climb along the half mile way. Pull a while. Stop a while. Talk a while. Pull again. Repeat. Deer on the truck. Whew! Thank you Joe!
The processor is closed in the afternoon so I head home to hose out and ice the cavity, eat and rest up. Can't sleep Too pumped!
The drive out to the processor in traffic isn't near as much fun as the ride home at dusk with the deer exchanged for a receipt and the light going out on a blessed day.
A nice one from the local game land, November 30, 2023.
65 yard shot, 70 yard recovery
80 grains Blackthorn by volume
Hornady 240 grains XTP
I stopped to give myself a treat: a chocolate Frosty from Wendy's, and sipped it with a spoon as the last light fell in the west, golden, a day to be savored.
When I left the house that morning, I offered my usual prayer: "Lord, watch over my wife while I'm gone, help me not to hit a deer on the road. May I hunt well and make good decisions. Amen."
It was 26 degrees when I parked my old Tacoma. I had a half-mile walk to my chosen spot. One of the challenges of hunting when it's cold is to think through your clothing so that while walking out you don't turn into a sweating mess and end up shivering on the stand. My coat went in the back pack. I only wore a sweater over my inner layers.
I enjoy the walk out through the woods in the dark. This year I started using a walking stick, not because I'm unstable at 69, but I found that I can walk more quietly in dry leaves by transferring some of my weight to the stick and then placing my foot. It works. Try it.
I scouted the previous Sunday where I would hunt today. Now in my third year of deer hunting, I'm getting better at sorting through rubs and tracks and bedding and wind and pressure and picking an exact spot that best gives me an opportunity to see and not be seen from the ground, where there is not much margin for error.
Quiet. Don't you love that time when you're there, it's still dark, and you become a part of the woods? Not long after settling in, I heard heavy footsteps above me in the leaves in that swish, swish pattern of deer. There is a big boy in these woods that I have seen each of the last two years. That is, if no one got him this year. That may be his footsteps, checking for imposters.
No other sound except the poor souls up in a plane just taking off from the airport bound for business some place. Thank you Lord that I am not on that plane. Then birds start their morning competition for first chair in the band. It's morning!
Not long after legal shooting time, I hear steps again. Different direction than before. Coming closer. Can't see anything. No sound. Wait. Then more steps. Suddenly, there he is no more than 50 yards and coming this way. Man, how does this happen? He's got a good rack. He pauses and moves behind a tree. I move my gun slowly. He saw something. Light snort and he trots away about 75 yards and turns up a facing ridge. Walking slowly. Lots of brush. He pauses. No shot possible. Lord, give me just an opening. He walks. Stops again. Broadside to me but his shoulder/lung area is covered in brush. Turns his chest. Looks my way. Chest shot. Risky. 75 yards. Got to be exact. Sight carefully. Pull the trigger. Fire and smoke!
In the smoke from my muzzle loader I can't see his initial reaction but he ran downhill. I think I hear him stop. Then I hear him keep going. Did I hear him fall or what that wishful thinking? Not sure.
Wait. Walk through what just happened. Calm down. Wait. What a morning and it's only 7:05.
After waiting long enough I mark the spot where I last saw him and then the spot where he was when I shot. Ah! A couple spots of bright red blood. Move slowly. Semi circles. Whoa! Large splatter. Whoa! There is a visible trail ahead of red.
I follow the trail. Easy. Where in the world did I hit him to cause this kind of blood trail like I have never seen?
There he is. Done. About a 70 yard run. I hit him in the lower chest dead center and it was like someone pulled the drain plug: blood is still draining from the bottom of the chest.
I sit. Give thanks to God. Look at him. 4x3 seven pointer. Beautiful. Nice body. Nice rack. What a prize!
I pulled out my drag strap to move him to a better place for field dressing. Dragged him about 15'. Uh oh! Heavy! I am going to need help dragging him out.
Field dressing finished. I put an orange stocking cap on his nose in case someone else wanders by: yes, I am coming back.
I called a buddy. Remember when you offered to help if I needed help? Everyone needs a friend like Joe! I'll meet you at my truck Joe.
Back at the truck I savor my still warm oatmeal. Breakfast on the tail gate. Deer down. Friend coming. Who's got it better?
This is my fourth deer and the first time I've had help pulling it out. What fun talking and sharing stories and hearing him say, "I hope you know where we are because I'm lost." Joe also hunts. He had me take him through where I was, where the deer was and follows the red trail. He's as pumped as me.
We take our time. We have two good hills to climb along the half mile way. Pull a while. Stop a while. Talk a while. Pull again. Repeat. Deer on the truck. Whew! Thank you Joe!
The processor is closed in the afternoon so I head home to hose out and ice the cavity, eat and rest up. Can't sleep Too pumped!
The drive out to the processor in traffic isn't near as much fun as the ride home at dusk with the deer exchanged for a receipt and the light going out on a blessed day.
A nice one from the local game land, November 30, 2023.
65 yard shot, 70 yard recovery
80 grains Blackthorn by volume
Hornady 240 grains XTP
Last edited:
