Prepping for Bear Season

Bear season officially began August 28th, with baiting allowed to start one month prior to the hunt. Before you can ever think about hunting, there’s a lot of preparation that goes into baiting even before the season begins. The main items needed for baiting are bait, scent, and grease…and then comes all the other stuff you need: a good blue or white barrel; an infrared camera that can take bear chewing on it; buckets–square ones are better; old clothes as nice ones don’t last long lugging bait; rope; bait tags; tree stand or blind; license to bear hunt and or trap, and maybe even a beaver carcass if you have one.

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Required by law, you need to have a bear site owner tag. This one is laminated.

In order to manage our bait sites, we have to buy bait, which can be a number of different foods. You want high calorie, high fat, no or low chocolate food that bears will seek during hyperphagia. When natural food is abundant, they don’t eat nearly as much. Last year there were no beechnuts nor acorns where we hunt. It was also a very dry year so berries weren’t nearly as abundant as they should have been. This year, we have a lot of beechnut and acorns, and berries, particularly blueberries, so we probably won’t use as much. Knowing this, we also know that it will be harder to bring them to the bait if they’re not hungry and the weather stays hot.

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ATV loaded with 2 five-gallon buckets of bait, half 5-gallon bucket of grease and bucket of frosting. Buckets get dirty from dragging them through the woods. Barrel of bait in background.

In years past, we tried to buy day-old goods and put them up in barrels ourselves, but that got to be seemingly impossible and downright unpredictable. Plenty of places have goods available, but they’ll save them for family members or sell them to pig farmers, so you never knew if you’d score or not. It also seemed to be about the time larger outfitters were buying extra from their sources and they began selling bait by the barrel. Buying bait takes the guess work and worry out of not having bait. We use about a barrel of bait for each site for the entire season. This year, we got two barrels of donuts and one barrel of honey oats granola. We also bought cherry pie filling, frosting, and peanut butter for bonus flavors. Just like people, bear may become bored with your offerings so you have to change it up to keep them coming.

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Grease bucket and bait barrel tied to the tree; otherwise, bear drag them away.

Baiting requires grease. https://www.facebook.com/plugins/video.php?href=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2FMymainelygirladventures%2Fvideos%2F795422197261805%2F&show_text=0&width=560“>Bear love grease because they need that fat for the winter. Grease smells good and it’s a good attractant. Add in a little cap of super concentrated Northwoods Bear Products’ Gold Rush scent and it REALLY smells good…teeth tingling butterscotch good. This year we tried a different brand with a cherry scent, but it wasn’t nearly as strong to our nose as the butterscotch. We’ve decided to stick with Gold Rush from here on out. We half fill a five-gallon pail that we’ve tied to a tree with the bottom cut out. You also can see how much the bear loves it on one of my videos on Facebook.

Scent is also the most important thing to lure bear to your bait. Your bait has to smell good…really good. Bears sense of smell is extraordinary, but the distance has been untested. Read more about bear behavior >>

The cost of scent is probably the largest expense besides bait. Depending on brand, many scents can be purchased locally, and some you have to buy online. I did both this year, and probably spent $140 just on scent. We had some bear jelly with beaver castor from last year’s supply so we smeared some of it on a tree. Beaver (yes the beaver that make dams and ruin trees) is a treat for bear.  Bears can smell it, and even though the jelly, which looks like Vaseline, is a year old, it had all kinds of scent. A must-have is anise oil. We hang it from a small tree out of reach of the bear. I found using a tiki torch wick works great. It soaks up a lot of oil and holds it so that I’m able to hang it and then it slowly drips over time. Nothing is worse than refreshing a bait site only to have a torrential downpour an hour or a day later. This anise wick lasts and lasts through the weather.

Once you have all the bait and scent, a good bait barrel and rope is crucial to that the bear won’t haul it off. I had to get a new barrel this year because the bear nearly ripped the old barrel from the rope and it couldn’t be repaired. My new barrel has a removable top which makes filling the barrel easier. Otherwise, we have to fill the barrel through the front hole which can be time consuming.

And lastly, I have a durable nighttime game camera with infrared flash. Since changing to a camera with infrared, I’ve noticed the bear are much more comfortable but some bears still know there’s a camera and try to chew it off…so durable is key. In the last three years, we’ve been videoing instead of just taking pictures. It’s truly amazing to see how bear behave versus just a still shot picture.

Now that I’m ready for bear baiting season, stay tuned to what shows up.

 

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We Happened Upon a Chanterelle

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A bowl full of chanterelles

Last year we began foraging in earnest. We searched and picked and identified as many mushrooms as we could. We were able to identify three edibles: oysters, lobsters and chanterelles. Chanterelles are our favorites, and we managed to find a nice flush up north.

Looking around home yielded a few golden goodies, but nothing like last year’s bounty. We had pretty much resolved that we wouldn’t be so lucky as last year.

In preparation for bear season, we decided that John’s site needed to be moved to a more covered and discreet area that the bears would be comfortable visiting. We decided to go to the mountain and scout, and hopefully find time to look for some mushrooms.

On our way out of the campground, we realized we forgot our mushroom bags. As we turned around to go back, I spied that golden unforgettable, chanterelle color right by the road! Sure enough, we scored. We scored even more when we searched into the nearby woods.2017072295111640_2

Chanterelles right in the full sun!

After scoring so many mushrooms, our bags were full. We reorganized and emptied one bag, then headed into the woods on the mountain. After we decided where the new bear site would be, we decided to hike out the easy way instead of through all the mud we encountered earlier.

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I filled my fanny pack!

On our way, we happened upon some chanterelles, and then again, and again. Every time we found a bunch, we’d be so excited. Of course, we yelled, “Bingo” to keep our good fortune coming. We found them in many different places, but one consistency was finding them on the sides of roads where the soil is hard in mixed woods of fir and hardwood. We found them in shade, in sun, and under bushes…they just seemed to be everywhere!2548

The size of the Chanterelles kept us yelling in excitement!

This year’s haul was twice what we got last year. They’ve been sauteed in butter and frozen, and are now waiting for the right time to accompany our moose meat, venison, or bear dinner.IMG_20170723_074815810Over three gallons picked and trimmed.

Mushroom foraging has been a lot of fun. It’s given me exercise and we’ve created some great memories together. The season still holds many surprises, but for now, we’ll be focusing on the bear hunting season. Preparation is under way and the baits are out. Hopefully, I’ll have something to report on next week!

Until then, tight lines on those fish, keep your eyes down in the woods for fungi treasures, and keep practicing your shooting!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Footsteps in the Woods

So I’ve been out searching for mushrooms and figured, what better place to look than right at work. There are several well maintained trails that I can walk. High school runners compete on these very trails every fall during cross country season. The woods are perfect for mushrooms, i.e., they’re not really healthy. There’s lots of fallen wood, dead wood and sick wood as much as there is really big wood. Healthy woods don’t produce great mushrooms, or at least the ones that grow on sick trees…so this place feels like a bonanza. There are literally mushrooms growing along the trail, in the woods and in the gullies where water runs off.

 

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I haven’t ventured out into the trails until this week. I didn’t have any mosquito protection, and no tick protection either, so I would have been more apprehensive except that I had my sneakers on. I was all set to venture off the trail. I had to keep a lookout for the poison ivy that would appear out of nowhere.

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Poison Ivy

Last year, I entered one of the trails and swore I heard a deer blow, but never saw it.

Today, I entered the lower entrance of the Porcupine trail. As I walked, I kept thinking I was hearing something walking in the woods off to my right. The only thing I was able to spot was a blue jay flying from the ground to the tree. It must be the blue jay? No squirrels, which are notorious for making noise in the woods, were to be seen anywhere. My footsteps were almost unheard. The bark mulch and pine needle trails dampened the sounds of my walking.  What was it?!

I made my way around the loop, but kept hearing the sound. Still I saw nothing. I decided to retake the loop, only the upper loop this time in the opposite direction. The wind was in my favor. As I rounded the corner, there she stood, totally unaware that I was there. She was busy looking for left over acorns from last year. Her beautiful orange coat glistened in the sun. She was small, but appeared healthy.

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It took a few tries, but finally I was able to get her attention. She watched cautiously. I admired her, but didn’t move. She went back to her eating, and I went on my way.  I scored a few mushrooms and saw a deer. It was a good day for a walk.

Do you ever hear footsteps in the woods?

By the way, no hunting allowed here, so all I can do is dream about hunting deer on my walks.

Silence Is NOT Golden When It’s Turkey Season!

Each year, I usually bag my turkey on the first day, so this year, I expected nothing less.

I absolutely love turkey hunting. It was the first hunt I ever tried, and was the hunt that got me hooked on hunting. Each year, I usually bag my turkey on the first day, so this year, I expected nothing less.

Two weeks before the season started, turkeys showed up in our horse pasture daily. We could sit on the back deck and listen to the gobbles in the woods. A slam of a car door and the bark of a dog would send gobbles throughout the woods.

The Friday before open season, I went down to my closest treestand. I brought along a Bluetooth speaker and hung it in a nearby tree with the volume cranked. The speaker amplified my turkey calls I had downloaded on my phone. I climbed into my treestand and opened up the turkey call application. A push of the “Turkey Cackle 1” and I had an answer. Gobbles nearby on my left.
I played it again.
Another response on my right!
Before I knew it, I had three jakes and a hen approaching on my right. The hen was actually chasing after the three jakes to keep up.

turkeys 4aThey were confused. Where is that hen? The turkeys walked by and once out of sight, I gave another call. They answered, came back and circled around me. The leading jake is almost fully mature, and he began to do his strut dance followed by a gobble. They weren’t alarmed since they continued to scratch and peck the ground as they moved.

As the turkeys circled me, they still didn’t know I was in the treestand. Off to my right a second gobbler also answered my call. I was having a blast!

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Turkey on the left ruffled up for the dance.

Finally the two groups of birds found each other, and I no longer mattered. They all headed away from me. Silence. Once they were gone, I climbed out my treestand and went back to the house.

Sunday, the day before the season opened, I headed back to my treestand. I used my same method of calling with the Bluetooth, but got no response. I covered a large amount of ground trying to call in a turkey while also checking my two game cameras. Just when I was about to give up, I got a response on the far end of the woods. They were still in the area! I quickly turned around and walked away.

Opening day and it was pouring. Pouring and my hunting partner was in no mood to venture out into it. By 2 p.m., the rain seemed to stop until we actually stepped out of the house. It was just a few intermittent showers to keep us moving, but listening for gobbles was not easy.

 

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We tried calling. No answers. We made a big circle and got to where I heard turkeys the day before. They weren’t responding to the mouth call John was using, so he took out the slate call and gave a try.

Instantly we had cackling, but no gobbling. We quickly set up the decoys and waited. No more replies, no responses and no gobbling.
Did they see us? Did we scare them off?
Did they hear us?
Perhaps I need to bring my Bluetooth next time…
Obviously they didn’t fall for our attempts to call them in.
We never heard any more turkeys the remainder of the hunt.

Silence. Nothing but silence. Let’s hope a couple days of rest and rain and they’ll come back and be ready for some gobbles. I have more tricks up my sleeve, so I’m not ready to throw in the towel just yet.

turkey tracks

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Few years back when I went turkey hunting with John and my oldest son, Zack.

Earth Day is Every Day

Last summer I had the opportunity to attend a week long conference in Boston. It was a new adventure and learning experience for me that I hadn’t ever done before.

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Freeport, Maine

Driving the turnpike into Massachusetts was depressing. I couldn’t but help notice the overwhelming amount of garbage on the side of the road, not just the highway, but also the local streets, the lawns, and the rotary intersections littered with trash. I actually wrote a letter to the city of Revere, and told them that the trash is a huge disappointment for someone who’s visiting. After all, who wants to see trash everywhere? When I go to Florida, I don’t see this kind of trash unless a trash truck catches on fire, and has to be dumped in order to put the fire out, which actually happened.

I’ve always had a certain pride for the fact that Maine’s highways don’t look like Massachusetts’ highways. Or do they?

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Litter on all sides of the roads on the highway

Now that snow has melted and the grass is showing, my family went in search of a used Jon boat for the son to bass fish. As we cruised down I-295 on Saturday, I couldn’t stop looking at the huge amounts of trash. Where does all this come from? Commuters, I suspect. There were beer boxes, beverage cups, plastic bags, wrappers, more cups, broken plastic from vehicle crashes, but mostly trash that had been tossed out the car window during the winter. The closer we got to Portland, the more trash I saw on the sides of the road.

Sunday wasn’t much better. We were on the road again, and cruised our way an hour beyond Portland. We took the Maine Turnpike, and even though there was a considerable amount of trash in the beginning, it seemed to taper off until we were past Portland. I think this directly relates to the cost of travel on the Interstate, and that more people use I-295 to commute. The result is the same…trash. Lots of trash thrown out, and now clearly visible since the snow melt.

litter crewThis got me looking in other places. On Monday, I traveled to Norridgewock and to Farmington. Hardly any trash compared to the highway. I did see a worker with a large garbage back picking up trash along Route 2. The worker was from the Waste Management landfill just down the road. I can bet that most of that trash wasn’t from their trucks, but from other trash carrying vehicles or people who feel the need to toss their cup. Was it his job to pick up the trash along US Route 2?  No, but the trash guy was out there picking it up because they get blamed for all the trash. Image maybe, but at least someone was picking it up. But just think of how much money it is costing to pick up this trash? The numbers are staggering. Just type in roadside trash pickup and see millions of dollars quoted to pick up litter.

So why do I bring this up? Earth Day was April 22 with a March for Science planned in  spots through Maine. The theme for 2017 is Environmental and Climate Literacy. I have a real problem with this because not one time did I ever see anything that mentioned a simple clean-up day. There was no call to action to save our planet by picking up trash, a clear environmental issue. There was no mention of it all. Marches everywhere, but no action to truly love our planet by doing something.

EPA logoAs a kid, we always had a clean-up day on Earth Day. Neighbors, kids, Boy and Girl Scouts, churches, and organizations all planned a day of beautification. I remember as a kid getting my free EPA sticker kit from a KIX box of cereal. We had the saying, “Give a Hoot, Don’t Pollute” and the unforgettable television ad, “Keep America Beautiful” from the 1970’s that made us all aware of our actions. We rarely, if ever, hear these types of messages now.

It is not the job of the state or interstate commission to pick up all the trash on the highway. Eventually the plastic and trash will be mowed over and spread out so it won’t be as noticeable, but it will still be there. It is everyone’s job to not litter in the first place. No matter how many demands for paper cups instead of plastic and to do away with the plastic grocery bags, if it becomes litter, it’s still litter, and it’s still polluting our precious Earth.

I for one, love to be out in the woods enjoying nature. The last thing I ever want to see is trash. I don’t want to see trash anywhere except the trashcan or the landfill. The next time you have the urge to toss out that small wrapper because it won’t really matter, take a gander around and see how much trash you’re contributing to the problem. Lots of little litters make for big pollution that can affect our waters we fish in, and lakes we swim in, and that can mean big problems for our health.

If you really want to celebrate Earth Day, do it every day.

It doesn’t take a march or even a special day to make a difference. Truly love the Earth in the little ways you can make a difference. How you ask?

  1. Don’t litter.
  2. Pick up litter when you see it.
  3. Set an example for others.
  4. Bring a trash bag with you to put trash in.

See you in the woods, and remember to Make Every Day an Earth Day.

 

The Love of a Dog…or Two

What I’ve never expected was that I’d grow to love our dogs more deeply than I ever thought possible.

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Tinkerbell and Tyler out for a walk.

I grew up with dogs and cats, but I’ve always considered myself a cat person. That was until I found out I’m very allergic to them. I still never cared for dogs because I grew up not knowing how to train them. Without proper training, dogs bark (which drives me bananas), poop in the house, take off running, and do absolutely everything you don’t want them to do, while cats just adore you. When I found out I could no longer have cats, I was unenthusiasticly resolved to the fact that we’d be a “dog family”. What I’ve never expected was that I’d grow to love our dogs more deeply than I ever thought possible.

 

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Before Fly came along, Tink hunted with Zack. She could chase bunnies!

We’ve owned several beagles in our thirty plus years of marriage. Beagles are perfect for rabbit hunting, and since John grew up with them, it’s always been our breed of choice. I was never close to the dogs because they were considered “outside dogs” or “hunting dogs”….not family pets. They had insulated houses and were on a leash most of the day. I was told, Being outside toughens them up for the hunt. This always seemed strange to me since I grew up with two or three Heinz-57, (aka mutts) dogs, and they never slept outside. But I never owned hunting dogs so I never questioned it.

In 2005, we got Tinkerbell for Zack after his beagle, Ann, died unexpectedly. Tinkerbell was always Zack’s dog…until Zack went off to college.

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Such a natural mom!

In 2011, we decide to breed Tink and she became a mother of three beautiful pups: Fly, Jack and Daisy. Then she became mine….sort of.  Zack returned from college, but couldn’t have a pet where he was living. Eventually he bought a home of his own, but by then Tink was too much part of our family and inseparable from Fly, so we kept her.

 

tinkerbell2Tinkerbell lived inside the house after she had her pups. When we decided to make Fly, Tyler’s dog and knew that he would sleep inside, Tink remained too. Since she was just paper trained as a puppy, and never lived inside, she never let us know when she had go. It was challenging; we basically trained Tink and Fly at the same time! Eventually, Tink and Fly could go in and out to do their business without us fearing they’d take off. We even built a large wired kennel for them to spend their days in away from the rain, snow and sun and without a leash. They’re attached house is double insulated and heated in case it gets cold.

Hunting always meant adventures for all of us. Every time John put on his rabbit hunting jacket, the dogs would go crazy. They knew it was time to hunt! Tink with her short legs, and Fly with his rugged tall build would run rabbits all day. Eventually Tink would fall behind and be a half a circle behind Fly and the rabbit. She couldn’t keep up, but it didn’t matter. She was in her glory doing her thing. This winter, Tink had to stay home. I stayed with her and pacified her with treats and gave her free roam of the house, but she’d still stand at the back door whining for Fly and wanting to be included.

It seems like yesterday, but it’s been a couple of weeks. I had to make the difficult decision to put Tinkerbell to sleep. In July 2016, she was diagnosed with a cancer that would eventually make her look like she was carrying a full litter of pups. Her mind was there, but her body was failing her. For months, we kept her comfortable, gave her special food, and cleaned up after her only to have to put out 6-8 more puppy pads, sometimes three times a day. She had ups and downs, and I found myself worrying about her all the time. I even wished she’d just go sleep and not wake up on her bed so that I wouldn’t have to decide when it was the right time. It never feels like the right time if you think it’ll mean less sorrow and loss.

img_20170202_120046215_topThe day the veterinarian came to the house to lay her to sleep weighed heavily on me. I doubted my decision. I didn’t like having to make a decision like this. I sat on the floor and petted her. I kept Fly nearby. They were each others companion. I took pictures of her. Looking at the pictures of her just a year ago and now, I could see the change. She had grayed. She was emaciated and I could now see all of her back bone. It was sad to see.  It makes me feel better that she didn’t suffer. She never acted “ill”, but more exhausted from carrying her load and trying to be comfortable. The grandkids adored her, and even in her state, she always loved their attention.

The procedure to lay her to sleep was quick. Quicker than I was prepared for. I cried and cried. I petted and talked to her as they worked on her. I cried more after they left. They were kind enough to put her in her burial bag and place her on the cushioned bench in our garage. John buried her in the hole he dug next to where one of her pups, Daisy, is buried. That’s another story.

I’ve learned a lot about dogs and myself during all this. I really like dogs. I just never knew how to deal with them. I’ve learned that dogs know what’s going on, and they know when you’re sad. Fly is now getting extra loving, and that’s helping me deal with losing Tink..and he’s not complaining. Neither am I.

Most of all, we’ve discovered that keeping a dog in the house doesn’t ruin them for hunting. It doesn’t ruin their nose. It doesn’t make them soft. Instead, it creates a bond of love and respect. Fly is a great hunter when he’s outside, and when he’s inside, he’ll cuddle with anyone who’ll let him. He’s been trained and he’s the best behaved dog we’ve ever owned.

We’re prepping ourselves for another beagle puppy that eventually will be our family pet. He’ll live inside, and he’ll will be Fly’s buddy. We’ll muddle through potty and hunting training. If he ends up being another great hunting dog, then great. If not, then he’ll still be part of the family. And he’ll always live inside.

Some day I’ll have to call the vet for Fly, and I’ll need our new dog to help comfort me again. Yes, having a dog means eventually losing it, but I think we get far more out of having one than having none.

RIP Miss Tinkerbell. Momma misses you.img_20160721_144312170

PS. I know there are many hunters out there who have several dogs who do not live in the house. Multiple dogs keep each other company and keep each other warm, and I am not judging. This is simply my experience. My point is more about one dog being left out in the dog house instead of being inside with the family. Happy hunting to all!

Expanded Archery Tales

On the last day of muzzleloader season, expanded archery would also come to an end. I convinced John to go expanded hunting with me since I was seeing way more deer in the city than he was muzzleloader hunting, and at least in expanded archery, we each had a permit to shoot either a buck or a doe.

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View from my blind overlooking a chopping. c. SWarren

Instead of going where we had been going, John decided to take me to a spot he’s hunted for years in Oakland. He scouted it in advance and prepared two separate blinds out of brush for us. The first morning we hunted together, I followed him into the spot and took my place behind my blind…well, after he came back and led me to where it was. I had never been that way and even though he said, “it’s right there,” I went too far left and missed his trail entirely. As I stood in the dark trying to find my way, a figure in the dark walked by me…it was him. The wind was howling and it got cold. I didn’t think the wind was to our advantage, and I was ready to leave when my teeth started chattering. We didn’t see anything, but sign was abundant so I wasn’t too discouraged about coming back.

 

We may not have seen any deer, but we scored some fall oyster mushrooms, which are probably the best mushrooms we’ve eaten besides our chanterelles. Yum!img_20161203_075113430

The following night, I couldn’t hunt, but John went. He decided to sit further in from our original spot, and although he didn’t see them, he heard two bucks fighting as their antlers clashed just before dark.

So the following weekend, we came in from a different way and took up new spots on the other side of the mountain. That morning before daylight, we hiked that tall, steep mountain. It was so steep and going was slow on the slippery snow. I thought I’d die trying to pace my breath before we got to the top only to sweat as soon as I made it to the top. Thank goodness I have good layers to wick away the moisture!

Eventually we made it into our spot, which was filled with acorns from all the oak trees in the area. The deer had been feeding here, so it would just a matter of timing before we’d see a deer. John had picked out a really nice spot for me right at the tip of a fallen-over hemlock tree. It made great cover right on the ridge of a valley. I could see all over the other side and all around me. Deer sign everywhere! All I had to do was sit still.

It wasn’t long after daylight when I heard a deer. At first I thought the deer was behind me. I realized I was also hearing a squirrel at the same time I was hearing the deer…out in front of me. John was sitting off to my right about 40 yards. I thought sure he’d see this deer. It made its way from the right to left slowly walking down the bank at a diagonal. It went out of sight when it reached the bottom of the valley because a big blown down poplar tree’s  root ball on my side of the bank blocked my view. As I waited, I finally saw the right ear of the deer. She was coming right up in front of me at about 20 yards. I drew my bow and held it as I waited for her to step out. With the deer fully in sight, I lined up my peep sight with the knock on my bow. I realized the deer was looking right at me!

I released the arrow, and watched it hit the deer where I thought was just behind the left shoulder. The deer took off. I felt it was a good shot. However, the arrow did not light up when it hit as it did with my first deer. The deer bound to my left, then turned and headed down the hill, and then back up the other side where it stopped right at the top. I could hear the leaves rustling and thought it had gone down, but I couldn’t see clearly where it had gone. I saw more deer off in the distant. The hardest part about bow hunting is trying to capture what’s happening so you can remember everything. It’s much harder when there’s a bow in your hand, and everything happens so fast!

I texted John when he didn’t text me right away. I thought, hadn’t he seen the deer? I thought for sure he saw the whole thing go down.

Me: Schwack! (I was feeling pretty proud about now!)
Me: Didn’t you see the deer?
John: No, did you shoot?
Me: Yes, I hit it.
Me: I think anyways. (beginning to second guess my shot)

I could hear John coming my way, and at the same time, I saw the deer off in the distant coming our way. I couldn’t get John’s attention before the deer realized he was there and bound away. He was pretty disappointed he hadn’t seen the other deer, but there was a large tree that blocked the deer from his view. He had heard it but couldn’t see it.  I chuckled when he said he couldn’t believe that I had once again taken a shot at a deer. After all, this was only my first season of bow hunting, and this shot made three deer I had taken a shot at. Apparently it’s not normally like this?

img_20161210_093700584We talked about where the deer was standing, where the deer was shot, which way the deer went…and all before we even took a step away from my tree. John found the spot where I had hit the deer and where it ran. He found the spot where the arrow was broken off and laying on the ground in a bunch of spattered blood. The arrow had a lot of fat on the front of the arrow. There was no sign of a gut shot, so where was this deer?!

We followed blood sign, first tiny specks, then a whole bunch down over the valley and back up over the other side. Then the blood and trail seemed to disappear. No blood anywhere. Not even a speck. Are you kidding me?! I felt sick. We spent almost an hour trying to find where the trail went cold. We eventually found where the deer had ran and eventually we found a minute, tiny speck every once in a while that would keep us moving.

We really thought eventually this deer would lie down and bleed. Our only explanation was that either the arrow passed through the deer and the fletching end of the arrow was still in the deer and possibly plugging the wound, or I hit lower than I thought, and had only caused a superficial wound to the deer. But we made every effort to keep tracking as long as we could. I didn’t want to feed the coyotes.

After about two hours and quite a distance, we followed the deer’s tracks out into a road. On the other side, we spotted between 8 and 10 deer all in a group with one very big deer chasing around…a buck! John had left his bow back at my tree. I gave him my bow to take a shot. I hid behind a tree and gave a bleat on the doe call. The buck started running our way. Just as John drew, a doe on our right busted us, and every one of those deer turned and scattered in every direction.

Now we were discouraged. There was no way to tell which way the deer I had wounded ran if it wasn’t bleeding. We spent a while longer and I finally resolved that we wouldn’t find the deer. I was very disappointed. I never, ever thought I’d lose a deer. I really thought it was a good shot. What would people think? I pride myself on being a good shot and making a quick, clean kill. I know hunters who use both rifle and bow and have lost deer. I understand that it can happen. Nothing is a given, but it still feels awful. So I’ve decided that if I have anything to do with it, this will be my last lost deer.

IMG_20160526_172913838.jpgI’m not going to get stuck in the woulda-shoulda-coulda trap. What I will do is practice. Practice more. Practice until I shoot that spot the size of a quarter. I’ve always hit, but never that tight of a grouping…but next season I will. Next season, there will be no question. I will learn to be more patient, not rush a shot, and have more faith in myself. I will use this failure to learn from, and not stop me from doing what I love to do. I will not let the possibility of failure stop me. I will make sure that I am prepared so that my possibility of failure is minimal. It still won’t be a given for success, but I can make sure that I’ve done everything I can do to make it is as failure-proof as it can be.

When you head out into the woods, don’t let the possibility of failure stop you from trying new things. Don’t let previous failures stop you from trying again.

Remember: There’s an adventure that awaits. Be prepared and your chances of success will follow.