I had put in a lot of days and hours in the timber trying to find a buck and punch my tag. Hunting an area I have become very familiar with and learning its secrets with each day I spent in search of my Muley buck. The only problem was that not unlike past early rifle seasons, it was bone dry in the Jack Pine forests. The Bitter brush and pine needles were giving away my location with just about every step. I slowed way down, so much so that it was becoming fatiguing. My leg muscles were not accustomed to holding my foot up while I looked for a quiet-er spot to step. It became a wonderful sort of meditative stalk challenging my balance, strenght, coordination and patience. It also brought me back to my alpine ski racing days in the sense of having to look many steps ahead and plan my route, much like skiing Slalom or Giant Slalom. All the while scanning visually throughout each step for that glint of white or an out of place branch. Something a bit askew that becomes an ear flicking from front to back and a glistening black nose that turns and catches you with eyes sharply focused, and you've just been busted!
I travel fairly light when I hunt this area, as I can hunt directly from my friends house without having to fire up the truck. I relish this experience and the ability to hunt right off the front porch and not having to drive to a specified location.
Hunting the timber means having to wait a bit longer for sufficient shooting light. Oh no problem, perfect to nab a second cup of strong coffee. I have adapted well without issue on that front. The early mornings are cool with temps in the 20's and low 30's then warming to mid 60's or even 70's by afternoon. Layering is key as is typical for Fall. I love the crisp mornings lightly frosted and the smell of seasonal changes as it stirs memories of past hunts, those successful and others not so much. More so the possibilities of what hunting encompasses and that of which is vast and leaves much to be experienced, even after close to 40 years afield. Every year, every hunt is special and unique, no two are ever alike . . . thankfully!
Oops I digressed, back to my buck hunt. As I was noting the challenges of an early season hunt there was plenty of fresh sign. There were well defined rub lines and also lots of scrapes. Some of them were separated by not more than a quarter mile, thus indicating several bucks in the vicinity. Just wasn't able to catch them in their zones during daylight. I did sneak in on a large doe the first evening and watched her browse on Bitter brush for about 10 minutes. It was fun mirroring her and finally we parted ways as my focus turned back to looking for horns. Mind you I am not a horn hunter, I don't have the luxury shall we say of being such an accomplished hunter or availability of multiple tags to fill each season. Oh and lets not forget location, location, location. Just as important here as in real estate, in fact maybe more so. After hunting hard for the better part of a week I returned to my temporary home for a day to regroup, rest and recharge.
I was optimistic as the forecast was finally calling for precipitation before my hunt was to end. Phew, I thought to myself this is just what I needed and indeed found new inspiration and focus. There were only 3 days left to the 10 day season and I was back with patience renewed by a brief respite.
I heard a distinct single "thump" that made my heart jump and my body stop in a nano second. It was the unmistakable sound of a hoof thumping semi hollow, duffy ground. My pulse quickened as my eyes strained to hone in on the location of this deer. I didn't know if it was a buck or doe. A flash of brown streaks through the trees and I catch a glimpse and follow its direction. I am squatting down and ready to shoulder my rifle if I am so lucky, and if I can muster a shooting lane akin to Swiss cheese. The deer stops less than a hundred yards away but I still can't see any horns. I slowly move to my left to gain a sliver of a shooting lane. Snort and then a series of "blows" and I'm busted as the deer alerts all creatures in the vicinity that there is a threat about. I did see a large bodied deer with big ears and a white rump but never did see horns. I surmise that at least I got a little closer than previously, as most times out I hadn't even see a deer. Ahh, dang it as my heart sank a bit and at the same time feeling more motivated. The clouds were moving in and temps were on the rise from early morning. By mid afternoon the smell of rain was in the air. I was thrilled as I had only 2 more days left to hunt.
I returned to where I was staying and settled in for the evening and as is my habit, brought my rifle in the bedroom with me. More so as an optimistic possibility if there just happened to be a buck within eye shot of my friends house. I slept well and woke hours before daylight and stepped out to the front porch to take inventory of the weather mans accuracy. Yes indeed it had and was still raining. Yes, yes, yes, about time I exclaimed to myself, finally!
I had a quick breakfast and waited for the downpour to subside a bit. Another friend stopped by and we were shooting the breeze about my hunt so far and as he looked out the window he said, "there's some deer out there". This was about 7:30a.m. and the rain had turned to drizzle, so I thought to myself it's time to get dressed and get out hunting. I jumped out of the Lazy Boy and ran to the kitchen window just about the time one of the guys said "hey one of them is a buck, Terry do you have your rifle in the house?" I was already half way to my bedroom peeling up the carpet in my slippers at the time. I exclaimed excitedly, but quietly that I sure did and was fast en route to the laundry room door. There were 4 deer total and 1 little buck hanging with the girls. I looked at my friend over my right shoulder as I began to open the door and he was opening the clothes dryer door to stop it. I took a knee and took aim then squeezed and nothing! Dang it forgot to take the safety off, regroup. Internal conversation was something like this; try again, stay calm, focus, breathe don't get ahead of yourself, remember to squeeeze the trigger. BOOM! The little 2 x 3 buck dropped right in his tracks at 60 yards, the does scattered instantly. PHEW what a relief. I actually listened to myself and did what I needed to. Even being able to watch the little buck drop through my scope, never flinched or pulled the shot.
Hugs all around and the rain began to come down harder again. The boys were on their way out to look at my buck and I flew to get changed out of my pj's(literally, flannel pants, deerskin slippers and a sweatshirt) and into my Carhartts, flannel shirt and some decent footwear. Mind you, not exactly my typical hunting clothes. None the less I had made a good shot, high through his neck not wasting an ounce of meat. It was also my first harvest with my
Roberts 256 that I'd bought from my friend Larry 2 summers ago.
I had worked my tail off hunting for my buck and not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth I took the shot that presented itself. I had learned much in the days leading up to my success. I was patient and persistent and in the end who knows how it might have been different. This was how this hunt unfolded and I wouldn't trade a minute of it. I had a blast from start to finish and learned some things along the way too. It didn't take long to get my buck skinned, field dressed and bagged up hanging. Wow, it happens so fast when you finally get the shot you've been looking for. That is one reason why I enjoy the entire process of hunting. All of it from start to finish. Ultimately leaving me dreaming about the next hunt, whenever, wherever that may be.
Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt
I want to introduce you all to my new addition who has little button brown eyes, 4 cute wiggly feet with pads as soft as silk and a face to melt your heart. The one and only DUCE. She comes from a wonderful kennel out in Sister's OR. Kinnaman Retrievers. Here is a link to her parents: Sire & Dam I brought Duce home September 14th when she hit 7 weeks of age. She is a real pistol and a confident pup. I have begun school with her albeit basics and a step at a time. Truly baby steps. Her estimated adult weight is approx. 45 - 50 Lbs. which will be much easier to lift than Jet who was 75 - 80 Lbs. I think Duce may very well be that 1 in a lifetime dog. She is Labrador # 4 for me and I do seem to alternate between Black and Yellow, no color bias here. Anyhow I look forward to sharing our progress in the basics and eventually into the field come next Fall and for many years there after.
I also tested the Icebreaker Multi Sport Cushion Micro sock. As a road cyclist a good pair of socks are critical as there are only 3 points of contact on a bike. Hot spots, numb feet or ill fitting socks can ruin an otherwise wonderful ride. These socks I absolutely loved and will certainly add more to my collection. Just the right weight for summer cycling and with the 55% merino wool my feet were happy from start to finish. Great fit, great cut and no seams on toes to irritate. The same is true regarding toe seams for all their socks. Specially designed LIN toe seams to reduce bulk and prevent blisters. Fiber content 55% merino wool, 43% nylon, 2% elastine. Cost $ 17.00
Another one of my favorites is the American Bittern and boy does this bird know about blending in to their surroundings, more so in the Fall than Spring. They are not large in stature but have a very distinct and recognizable vocal. Several times when I've seen them they have been in tules quite aware of my presence and doing their best to blend in to their surroundings. They do so by raising their bill towards the sky, staying motionless and rotating their eyes forward much like that of a chamealeon. They do an amazing job of becoming a tule with their streaked throat, breast and belly. Their very cool and one I keep an eye out for when birding. On a few occasions I've even seen them at Lowlands in S.W. OR during waterfowl season.
around to jump our favorite ditches. We did get a nice Mallard, 2 Ring Necked ducks and we flushed a few Snipe, of which Jet made nice retrieves. In hindsight I wish I'd spent more time focused on hunting Snipe, as this was one of their last nights spent here before continuing on their migration south. Some of the ditches had thin layers of ice forming as did the flooded fields. Very few ducks in either places with the exception being the Klamath River where there were quite a few divers.
looking and had no luck finding the bird. I decided to walk the dike towards the old boat dock and loop around the field side of the dike in hopes of flushing the other rooster that I missed. After the better part of 1 and 1/2 hours I never did flush the second Pheasant and was now back up river from where I had dropped the Pheasant. I looped back to the river side of the dike and proceeded to go look some more for the downed Pheasant. I again "marked" the point from where I shot and took a straight line and this time after about 15 minutes I had succeeded. I was out to far before and made my way back in just a little and there he was crumpled in a pile, still warm to the touch. I was ecstatic as I hate to lose any bird or animal that I shoot. I was laughing to myself that Jet typically goes to short and now I tend to the opposite. Somewhere in there is a happy medium I'm sure. I felt like I deserved a can of Alpo for my efforts.
who blogs knows about what an insatiable appetite blogs have, and the challenge to keep purging content from within oneself. Interesting how the ebb and flow of life is mirrored in all that we do. Striking while the iron is hot is easily done during the hunting season while the days spent afield give way to new experiences and stories to follow.
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pleasure. I got exactly what I wanted, a low profile hat that fits my little head perfectly without any bunching in the back where the velcro closure is. In my book that is 100% success in a big way. Here is Jeremy's contact information,
in my face encouraging me along when my leg muscles were screaming. I've hunted bear during a sodden spring in the Oregon Cascades. Hiking ridge after ridge in tick and mosquito infested vegetation in hopes of seeing bear sign. I was rewarded with a one-shot kill of a big 7 square bruin with my 7mm Remington Mag at over 200 yards downhill. Dropped him in his tracks and then the work began. The rain pounded all night. I was so tired I could barely chew my sandwich.
