There’s always a sure way of knowing that spring is really coming, and that’s when I start spotting pussy willows as I drive to work. I often hear friends say they can never find any.
Well, I’m here to tell you that you really can’t miss them once you know where to look. The hardest part about spotting pussy willows is not being able to pick them off someone’s lawn…nope can’t do that. Since I haven’t got up the courage to ask and know that I can find them elsewhere, I just respect their land and move on…but I still sigh every time I drive by!
I’ve spent a good amount of time looking and some of the best and biggest pussy willows I’ve ever found have been in the city. You read right…the city. The The key is to pick them before they turn green, and you want willow trees…not poplar tree blossoms which look somewhat like a pussy willow.
Every year, John and I pick an enormous bunch of them to keep in the house. One year, we found the mother load of gigantic pussy willows and picked a bunch. The following year, we went back only to find that the owner of the property had wiped it clean of the willow trees, and put up a big old warehouse. Knowing that there had to be more somewhere in the city, I went to work scanning the for-sale lots in my travels.
Score! At an industrial park, where land is for sale, I managed to spot some pussy willows. They didn’t appear too big from the road, but once we were up close, they were huge! They literally looked like cat paws…or rabbit paws…just a really awesome find. It’s amazing how much land right next to the highway is accessible and I’ve seen several people picking pussy willows in the same spot each year. Just know that the bigger ones are where no one’s picked yet.
So with the cold that’s been sticking around, the pussy willows haven’t bloomed out as quick as I expected they would…but the season is coming to a close. In fact, since these rains, the willows are getting too far gone as the leaves are trying to come out.
These green buds are much more easy to spot…take note for next year. You’ll want to remember where you saw them come spring. Don’t forget to take the kids along for some outdoor time and a great time to learn about the woods.
This year was a first for bobcat. We know of locals who hunt bobcat with dogs, but we’ve never done it. Last year, I tried to trap a bobcat after I found where one had traveled out back of the house where I hunt, but the season ended before I had any luck.
This year, I was determined I’d catch something. I really wanted a fox or a bobcat for their fur as well as help with population control as there are few rabbits in our area due to so many predators, and both fox and bobcat prey on rabbit.
A family member reported that he had seen a bobcat while deer hunting in late October. We were shocked as the only bobcat I’ve ever seen was last year when I was rabbit hunting in Dead River plantation. The cat crossed the road in front of me as I walked to my truck, but it was just out of range of my shotgun and in line with John’s truck…I would have had a lot of explaining to do.
John and I each set a trap line. My trap line was focused on where I had fox coming to my tree stand as well as where I had seen its tracks along a rock wall. The trap is a number two Duke foothold trap. For bait, I used the wing from a chicken that I had killed, and some skunk essence for lure. This particular chicken met its demise after it attacked my grandson and Momi was called to take care of it. I set up a trap using the natural lay of a stone wall. I was pretty bummed when my chicken wing came up missing, but my trap didn’t go off because it had frozen. Another lesson learned. I hadn’t made sure my dirt over my trap wasn’t moist. Whatever stole my chicken must have been small, perhaps a weasel or squirrel.
Fox set #2
We took turns checking the traps depending on our hunting schedules. I was spending a lot of time hunting in the early mornings, so John checked my traps. I was sitting on the top of the mountain in my tree stand when I heard his .22 pistol go off. Sure enough, I had caught a porcupine in my trap. I would reset my traps in the evening, and we’d start the process all over again the following day. John caught one very large porcupine in his trap, and I managed to catch six more. Time to move the traps. There are still porcupine around since I still see the damage they are doing to the trees in the winter, and I saw more during the remainder of the deer hunting season.
With no luck for fox or coyote, we decided to move our traps deeper into the woods. We set up several traps along the bog where I spotted a bobcat only days before the season opened. John made a nice cubby using a large rock as a back drop for the cubby and a large beaver carcass from our beaver trapping where a coyote had come by my tree stand. The cubby is built so that the animal will go after the bait, but not be able to come from behind and steal it without stepping on the trap.
John caught his first, and what we thought would be our only bobcat. This was an adult female. He got it tagged and then took it to the taxidermist. This bobcat weighed about 27 pounds. The taxidermist said it was a nice sized one.
I don’t think I ever saw anyone as excited as John when a few days later, he came back to say that he had lost a bobcat. Apparently the stepping stick got kicked into the trap and when the trap engaged, the stick allowed the bobcat to get away. However, the bobcat also decided to destroy the cubby to get to the beaver. Somehow, the bobcat pulled the entire beaver off from the large stake John had used to secure the beaver in the cubby! It ate on the beaver then took some of the meat and dragged it a few feet away where it tried to bury it with leaves.
I had already asked Erin to join us for beaver trapping on Sunday so I gave her call. I asked her if she could come earlier and that it wasn’t a sure thing, but we were pretty sure John would catch a bobcat that night. Without hesitation, Erin said yes. So at daylight, the three of us made our way down to the trap line on the four-wheeler. And sure enough, there was a huge bobcat staring back at us! John dispatched the bobcat, then we all got a chance to see it up close. This was a large male. He weighed in at 37 pounds! John decided to have this one mounted instead of the first one, so once again, he got him tagged and took him to the taxidermist. The taxidermist is tanning the first one for us so that we’ll still have John’s first bobcat.
I was pretty much convinced that after catching two bobcat, we were done. Boy was I wrong! Imagine my surprise when I discovered that we lost another bobcat on the bog set. I had went to pull all the traps when I made the discovery. A bobcat had taken the rabbit carcass we used as bait and left us some fur.
I set my trap but with the intention of trying to catch a coyote. There were tracks all over the place and figured that as long as there were coyotes, there would never be a bobcat. And I kept thinking, realistically, just how many bobcat would be in one area?
The following morning, I went with John to check my traps. There before me was my very first, my very own bobcat. A young tom bobcat. He was about 27 pounds. He was as beautiful as the others. I dispatched him using a .22 pistol. And to top the season off, we went back that evening to check traps and there was bobcat number four! Another huge male tom bobcat weighing about 35 pounds! I took the last two bobcats and got them tagged in Sidney at the warden office. My first bobcat is in the freezer waiting for me to have enough money saved up to get it mounted.
I was also excited to be able to share my catch with my grandkids. They think it’s pretty awesome that their Momi got a bobcat. The last bobcat, I gave to Erin along with the skull. Even though it’s bigger than my first bobcat, I decided I wanted to keep my first one. She’s having the fur tanned and the skull done to go along with her other collection of skulls.
This season of trapping turned out way more successful than I ever imagined. For those of you worried that we trapped too many bobcat, be rest assured there’s still more. We caught this bobcat on camera just this week. He had dug into the ground where the remainder of the beaver lies frozen.
As for 2018 trapping season, I hope to get a bear and some coyotes…many coyotes, but for now….one would be nice.
So deer season consumed every ounce of my free time from the time I went bow hunting through the last day of muzzleloader season, which many of you know was last Saturday. I never even got to go expanded archery hunting because I spent so much time hunting the regular seasons.
I wasn’t able to score an any-deer permit this year, so I knew I’d either have to shoot a doe with my bow or a buck with my rifle.
Bow hunting didn’t have many great nights to sit, but I could sit fairly late. The winds were awful most nights and it was hard to hear anything. I hadn’t had any action until one night, at almost the end of the night, when I could sit no longer, I stood up. Not expecting anything, I was soon surprised and confused by an animal that charged across the road and into the woods. What to heck was it?! It was so low I swore it wasn’t a deer, but looking back now, it had to be a deer…or a bear…I still don’t know. It rattled me a bit because I had no other form of protection, which is the last time I bow hunt without a handgun also close by.
Rifle season was much more exciting. I had some great morning hunts. The camera we put up for three days had three different deer on it. One was an eight point buck, another was a spike horn and there were does. Awesome. I was sure I’d see a buck. I’ll put up a couple of those videos on my Facebook page.
I set up a blind where the camera was since I had a buck chasing a doe in video. It was a very long walk into the blind, and trying to beat sunrise while being quiet was proving difficult. So on one morning, I opted to stop at this hemlock tree and sit on a rock beneath it. It was awkward, but I had heard deer running around and I didn’t want to blow my chance. I made a grunt call with my call. Immediately, I had two deer start walking toward me. I readied my gun as they approached. One stayed in the woods, but the other one was in perfect view: broadside. The only problem was that it wasn’t shooting time, and the deer’s head was in the shadows of the sunrise and I literally couldn’t see if it was a buck or doe. The entire head was shadowed by its body. I waited, with gun pointed. Eventually my arms could no longer hold my gun and as I lowered it, the deer heard me and blew. Game over. The deer left and I never saw the second one. Five minutes later, and it was full daylight…damn…so close, but I think the one deer I saw was a doe. Her tail was curled up and she had responded to a buck grunt. The other deer may have been a buck chasing her, and if it was, I’ll never know.
Many mornings I made the hike up this hill that had weeds chest high. John and I rode the four-wheeler over it so a lot of the brush was knocked down, but it certainly wasn’t quiet. A few wet mornings made going easy, but I also had some really crunchy, noisy mornings trying to get to my treestand that we put in the hemlock I had sat beneath.
I heard deer where I couldn’t hunt because it’s too close to houses. I heard deer to my right. I heard deer to my left coming up the hill. I saw more buck paws and scrapes than I thought possible. I managed to call a doe out at night and watched her head out in front of me in the tall weeds. I saw two doe another morning, that I called in. They came up behind me in the tree line, then moved out in front of me only briefly before heading back into the woods. They didn’t take the easy route up the road and out in front of me-well except for the deer I encountered after traipsing all over the woods until nearly 10 am. As I headed down the road back to my car, I came face to face with a doe.
And the deer in the beeches off to the right of my stand refused to show themselves but instead headed for the oaks below me. I heard them every morning, and even got one to come my way a couple times, but I couldn’t get them to actually come into view because of the trees blocking my view. It was as if they had me figured out.
So I took some days off and hunted other spots to give my “hot” spot a rest. This was pretty cool because on one of these days, I got to see a bobcat make its way across the bog that I was hunting. This was only my third bobcat I had ever seen in the wild. I couldn’t shoot it because it wasn’t bobcat season unless I was trapping it…which we did after this.
Then one morning, I heard what I’d been waiting for all season. I heard a buck chasing a doe as I climbed the hill. I heard him rattle his antlers on a tree. The wind is always in my favor walking up the hill, but once to the top, anything behind me could and would smell me. So I carefully sprayed a little doe-in-heat lure on some old goldenrod flowers. I had instant lure and cover for me.
I made my way to my stand. I climbed in and secured my harness and took a seat. This time, I made a doe call but not right away. I sat and waited until it was almost shooting time. I still heard other deer, but as soon as I made the doe bleat call, I had a deer coming. It was undeniably a deer coming my way. He raked his antlers on some trees right behind me! A buck! I waited. I finally heard him come behind me and make his way to my right. I watched him over my right shoulder. He came into view for a second. A buck with crotch horn thick antlers…all he had to do was walk out around the trees between me and him…just walk out in front of me.
But he didn’t. He veered right and moved through the next bunch of trees in the tree line. I had to sit there and watch him walking away. He swung left and stepped through an opening in the trees right at the road. It was a small opening, but I was afraid I wouldn’t get another chance. I aimed right behind his left shoulder and pulled the trigger.
He kicked like a bucking bronco then stood there flicking his tail, which told me I didn’t hit him-or at least it wasn’t a lethal shot. I jacked out my shell and as I went to cycle another round my gun didn’t do as it was supposed to. I had to cycle a second time to put a shell into my chamber. By then he had moved and was about 90 yards away walking broadside toward the treeline. I took another shot. He continued to walk stopping briefly. Then he did the unthinkable. He moved behind a growth of birch trees. All I could do was watch him, but it was pointless to try another shot because the growth was too thick.
He turned and walked into the woods. I called John hoping I had a deer to track.
At first we couldn’t find any sign of blood. I had to climb back in my tree and wave my arms to where I last saw the deer. Finally we managed to find a small drop of blood, perhaps from my second shot. We followed a one drop at a time blood trail for about 30 yards, then there was no more blood. None. I had probably just grazed him, but it didn’t take a way the feeling of guilt and failure.
I tried to figure out what I did wrong. This is the first season with my new 30.06. “Was my gun off ?”, since I can say I generally don’t suck at aiming and shooting. I had fallen with it days earlier, but didn’t think I hit anything. We had purchased different ammo. This ammo was to separate and expand upon impact. John used the same ammo for his hunt. His deer had no exit wound…if this was the case with my deer, then there was only one way to bleed and that could make tracking a lot harder.
Going back the next day, as the sun rose, I could see clearly many more branches through the opening than I did the day I shot at my deer. I clearly didn’t make a good decision to take the shot, and that’s something I have to reconcile in my own head. Had my bullet hit a branch, broke apart, and just grazed him then? I’ll never know. I hope he survived.
I continued to hunt from my stand, but with the rut over, things weren’t happening. Later I moved to the bottom of the mountain and sat over a buck rub area that would make you dizzy. The very first night I called out a deer. He actually came crashing out, but instead of coming out into the opening, he also stayed in the treeline and circled around me. I could hear him smelling, sniffing the air, trying to find his doe, but with so many trees behind me, I never saw him…and he walked away…and after that night, he never responded again. He had figured me out.
So I ended the season without getting a deer tagged. There was no second chance buck to make it right. It was hard to swallow losing my only chance I had at a buck, but that’s what makes it hunting. I not only saw deer, but each and every hunt I was graced with nature’s amazing wildlife, celestial events, and just complete enjoyment being outdoors. And for that I am thankful. I can’t wait to do it all again next year.
I know I’m extremely late in posting. I’ve never gone this long without a post. The problem was that bear season brought lots of unexpected events that I wasn’t prepared for.
First of all, the week before the season started, I had six different bears on my bait. I was feeling ecstatic and sure I’d get a bear this year. Of the six, I also had a sow with two cubs. I wasn’t too concerned as I figured they wouldn’t hang around long with all the boars I had showing up.
The night before bear season began, my husband became ill with vertigo and sudden hearing loss. A healthy, robust, avid hunter ended up flat on his back and helpless. Two weeks later, a trip to the hospital, tests, an MRI and a specialist ENT doctor revealed no brain tumors, and there was nothing anyone could do except wait it out. He’ll either get his hearing back, or not. The vertigo will go away, but when, we don’t know.
John only managed to hunt a couple times, but we did get out to the sites together to check the cameras. A walking stick and later a four-wheeler was a big help for him to get around. I hunted a bit more. I tried to hunt by myself. I took the hour and half ride north and sat a few times. Our cameras also decided to quit…two $150 cameras dying followed by repeated mishaps with other cameras made even checking cameras a chore and a dread.
The first time I sat, I got to see the sow and cubs come into the bait. When they first started coming in, they weren’t quiet. In fact, they were so noisy, I thought it was a moose, then when I realized it was a bear, I thought for sure it was the two male bears that had visited the night before. I’m glad I waited to see both bears, because the second bear ended up being a cub…then another cub. I figured I’d let them just eat and leave but then Momma bear decided to snoop around and started coming over to my stand. I had to stomp my feet to scare her and her cubs away before she spotted me. It was pretty comical to see how the bears reacted to my stomps.
The second time I sat, I had my friend Erin join me. She loves to bear hunt and had never been to my bait site. We put a hang-on tree stand directly above my ladder stand. She and I braved the hurricane force winds for a chance to see the pair of male bears that had only been there two days before. The plan was that we would each get to shoot one and the job would be done…no such luck. No bears at all that night. I guess the wind was just too noisy for them to come in. Erin I owe you another hunt.
Those winds brought down the most beechnuts I’ve ever seen in one season. After that night, I only had a couple brief encounters with bears on camera for the remainder of the season. Too much natural food and literally, the bears were gone.
The third time, I sat alone. I saw the sow and cubs again. This time the cubs came in, but Momma bear was no where to be seen, which I did not like. It was quite a while before one of the cubs walked to the right and only then did the mother appear. Somehow she had stayed out of sight and circled around the site. She knew I was there, and as quick as she stepped out in front of the barrel, she moved back out of sight. Then she began making her way toward my stand. I figured I’d just keep an eye out for her, but when she started snapping her jaws and huffing at me, the party was over. I stomped my feet. I huffed back. They left. After that night, they never returned to the bait during daylight hours that I sat. I videoed this event and you can find it on my YouTube. Go to the four minute mark to see the cub and what goes down after.
I sat a couple more times as the season came to an end. I picked nice quiet nights with the sun shining late, i.e. the best kind of nights a bear may just happen to come back for a visit. I had a big bull moose come in the exact same direction that the bears had come in. At first I couldn’t tell what it was and I was hoping it was a bear. He made a big circle around my bait. My honey burn had brought him in. I could hear him sniffing the smoke. He rubbed his antlers on trees several times and as he made his way around to my right, he walked away grunting the most majestic moose grunt. I then heard a cow moose give one long call. Love was in the air that night.
We spent two weeks trying to snare a bear, but with only sow and cubs coming to our sets, we decided to call it a season. This season was the worst we’ve ever had.
In fact, I was pretty bummed about the season. I was both mentally and physically exhausted with nothing to show for it. It’s taken me all this time to realize that my bear season really wasn’t the total bust I had thought it was.
I’ve always said, “success isn’t in what you end up with. It’s the adventures along the way.” It took me this long to realize I had a successful season. I had seen a sow with cubs TWICE . Not bad since before last year, I had never seen a bear in the wild. I also saw a bull moose in rut and a pine martin. I had a blue jay rat me out squawking from tree to tree then nearly attacking me in my tree stand. I saw a partridge repeatedly on my way in and out of my stand only to fly away when I finally tried to bird hunt. I almost stepped on a tree frog and saw a very big snake from the four-wheeler. I found mushrooms too. And most importantly, I still have a husband and we’ll get him through this illness.
And there’s always next year. For now, John and I have done some bird hunting to fill in the gap, and now I’m deer hunting. I promise to not stay away so long this time.
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.
Logitech bluetooth speaker
One of many turkey calling apps for phones
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.
They 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!
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.
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.
Few years back when I went turkey hunting with John and my oldest son, Zack.
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.
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!
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?
We 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.
I’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.
In Maine, muzzleloader season commences immediately after the regular firearm season ends. This gives a hunter two more weeks of hunting with less pressure since fewer hunters own muzzleloaders or take advantage of this season. The first muzzleloader we owned was one we bought for my oldest son to use; however, I ended up using it. I am proud to say I was the first one to shoot a deer with it and I’ve used it several times. Since then we’ve gotten a second muzzleloader, but I have yet to shoot anything with it because I either tagged out before muzzleloader season, or didn’t get a deer at all.
This is my story about a muzzleloader hunt and the gun I used, a CVA .50 caliber rifle. It’s the new kind of muzzleloader, which at first some hunters mocked because it’s so easy to use. Unlike Laramy “Sasquatch” Miller, the mountain guy who pours the black powder into his gun and loads a ball inside a wad of cotton, we drop three gunpowder pellets called charges down the barrel. Then using the long rod, we press the sabot and bullet down into the barrel. The gun isn’t considered loaded until we place the primer, also called the cap, into place with a special tool. Our particular model takes a .209 cap, which is simply the size of the cap. The difference between rifle and muzzleloader hunting is that you only get one shot with a muzzleloader and then have to reload it in the field.
Our first muzzleloader was harder to use that our current one. It was almost impossible to get a primer into the gun without the special tool. Luckily, our new gun has a barrel that breaks open. Another issue with the first gun is the bolt was forever coming unlatched and the bolt would open. On more than one occasion, I’d lose the bolt right out of the gun, and onto the ground on my way into the stand. I finally figured out I needed to carry it on my right shoulder so the bolt handle wouldn’t catch on my jacket and get flipped open.
One year I hadn’t gotten my deer yet, so I bought my muzzleloader permit and planned to hunt. I also had an any-deer permit so the last thing I wanted was for that to go to waste. I hadn’t seen a deer all season. All I needed to do was see a deer to shoot….just one.
Overnight, we were graced with a huge dumping of snow, which was still falling when we headed out. The snow was soft and deep and best of all: quiet. John and I headed out back to look for deer sign. Before we even went 100 yards, we found brand new tracks in the snow. John decided to follow the tracks and went left. I was to circle around by the gravel pit right, and see if anything had come my way.
The snow was deep and hiking through it wasn’t easy, but it was incredibly quiet. As I rounded the pit and headed down the trail, I made my way almost to the end of it where it merges with another trail when I heard noise…deer noise. There in front of me at the top of the hill, were four big doe pawing for acorns under the newly fallen snow. I stepped off to the left behind some trees. They hadn’t seen me. I was only 20-30 yards from them. As I readied my gun, I noticed the bolt was slightly open. I pushed the bolt closed, took the safety off, and took aim. As I looked through my scope, I tried to pick a deer that didn’t have another one right behind it. The last thing I needed to do was shoot two does. I decided on the one that gave me a perfect broadside shot.
I pulled the trigger.
NOTHING!! The gun didn’t fire. In my mind, I was screaming NO!
I took the gun and looked it over. I lifted the bolt up and down, but didn’t cycle the bolt open because I didn’t want to make noise or take the chance of my primer falling out. I couldn’t see anything wrong with the gun. I took aim again and pulled the trigger. STILL NOTHING!! My gun wouldn’t fire. I tried again to figure out WHY... Then the deer noticed my movement. I looked up. They were looking at me. One stomped her foot…A few loud blows, and in a second, they all bolted. I was sick with failure and anger over the gun. Why hadn’t it shot?!
Standing there not believing what just happened, I opened and closed the bolt cycling it through the action and actually opening the chamber. The primer was in place.
So I pulled up and took aim at the big stump nearby. BAM! The air filled with smoke. The gun worked that time. F@&k!
John called me. “Did you get one?!” I couldn’t believe I had to tell him no.
Turns out this gun has a safety mechanism in it that prevents the gun from firing if the gun bolt comes open. The only way to cancel it is to fully open and close it. It would have been nice to know this…or better yet, IF I had simply cycled the bolt, I would have had a deer. The manual never mentioned this safety feature either… I still remember this moment like it was yesterday. Some hunts you never forget; I won’t this one. It was a true learning experience for me and to this day, every time I walk the hill where the does stood, it all comes back. I think what frustrated me the most is that I had shot a deer with this same muzzleloader in a previous year, so I couldn’t figure out what was different.
Although putting meat in the freezer is the best feeling, failure is sometimes part of the hunting experience. I try not to dwell on unsuccessful hunts; dwelling makes one start second-guessing one’s abilities, decisions, and whether or not one should be there. Don’t dwell. These are experiences I never would have had if I hadn’t started hunting. I got to see deer, and you can bet that whenever the son takes his gun out, I stick in a reminder to make sure to not let the bolt open.
I avoid the shoulda-woulda-coulda’s of regret. This year’s grand slam proved to me that I know how hunt. Things happen, and not every hunt will be a perfect textbook. Accept it and make changes when necessary, but never ever beat yourself up. That’s why we have next season–to do it all over again.
I’ll be back there next year ready for another great year of hunting. And when muzzleloader season gets here, and if I haven’t gotten my deer yet, I’ll be bringing the “new” muzzleloader out. Whatever type of hunting you do, be sure to get out there and enjoy every minute, even if it doesn’t turn out the way you wanted.