These sort of thoughts make me seem loathe my own selfishness. If the me of many years ago, when I first started hunting, would see my temperate energy levels as opening day approaches when I have time to go hunting and in a place where yesterday-me would have drooled over...
But yesterday-me is long gone. Deer hunting may not come with the travel and adventure that bear hunting does, but if I ever opted not to go, I'm 100% sure I'd be kicking myself with even more self-loathing within a day or two of a missed opening day.
I do look forward to the placid moments on the deer stand. A former coworker once remarked that he hated that part of deer hunting, "I guess I can't stand that voice in my own head." I felt a little bad for him. “It’s okay living inside your own head, provided it doesn’t slip into psychosis.”
The brain is the only organ in the body which doesn't tell you when it is malfunctioning.
The forecast for opening day had been all over the place. Weather has been quite unusual in 2018 overall. Winter refused to give up its icy grip early in the year. Once summer did arrive, it was hot and very wet. October brought July-like weather before abruptly transitioning to late fall. Snow has already fallen. I can't control the weather, all I can do is prepare for it ... hopefully.
An acquaintance has been bowhunting the same property I hunt on. He took a nice buck a while back, "Congrats man! You're killin' me." While I'll gladly shoot antlers, deer hunting near home is more about meat. I've been eating it so much that I've grown to not like ground beef or turkey in comparison. But the ever-present question of what to do on opening day persists. Hold out? Memories persist of the lean years of 2011 and 2012; the amount of decent bucks I've seen while driving or walking the dogs this year is oddly enticing. Shoot early (IF! I can) to put meat on the ground? That takes the pressure off to possibly enjoy any more time in the woods. Sometimes these decisions are not mine to make.
I've had lots of time to let summer wind down and finish fall chores. I probably did a final lawn mow too early. I almost waited too long to get the Triumph tucked in for at least a bit of a nap. A very unusual winter storm coated the area in heavy ice. I can't say that made me more excited about heading out to a treestand. Yet after a few slow weekends, opening day arrived with temperatures just above freezing - which is good since it allowed the rest of the ice on the trees to melt.
I bundled up in fleece jacket and pants that I bought two years ago and haven't worn yet. I never know how warm to dress, but I've been overall cold lately and with very little wind it seemed about right.
I got to Mike's and set up my treestand. By the time I was sitting comfortably, I was cookin-hot and sweating. "If you sweat, you're dead." But it was actually pretty nice. I was in and quiet a little over a half hour before light. A deer came up behind me and grunted in a rather odd way; probably a buck. It was too dark to see him, but I would have like to have gotten a glimpse of whatever it was.
Right at first light I heard the tell-tale sound of a few branches cracking. Looking to the west, I saw a really big doe about 20 yards away and moving towards me. Even in the dim-but-legal light, it would have been an easy shot. But I didn't shoot. For all my anxiousness before opening day, I didn't really want it to end after only a few minutes. The doe milled around for quite a while before walking off to the east. I did bring my gun up a few times, but let her walk.
A short time later a smaller deer, maybe a button buck, came walking from the east. It would have been another pretty easy shot but I let it walk too. Two deer passed already - I guess that answers that question.
As it got lighter there was a bit of shooting, but none of it close by. Another deer came from the east. It was late enough that I thought a bit more about this one, until I saw it was a pipsqueak of a buck - probably a really thin 4-point. I let him go too.
I was cool, but never got too cold. Wind remained negligible and I was quite comfortable. After Pipsqueak, there was more distant shooting, but all remained quiet where I was. I took advantage of the time to think and take micro-naps, alternating with looking all around me for anything. Most of the deer I've seen in the last few years from this stand location have been behind me; I might have to noodle that for future stand locations.
I ate a few snacks around the time I heard Mike's neighbor head toward his house on his 4-wheeler. His morning must have been slow since he usually shoots any deer he sees early. I heard another 4-wheeler to the west which I figured was either another hunter or possibly the farmer checking his corn which was still up.
Pop.Tarts were probably not the best choice for the deer stand. The wrapper was noisy and crumbs got all over the place including on my rifle.
Around 1:00 I saw another deer pretty far off to the west. It was small and working away from me in thick brush so it was safe from me. With things slowing down so quickly, I did start to rethink not shooting at first light. Throughout the day there were no close shots and only a moderate number overall could be heard.
A short time later something small and dark went running to the Southwest. At first it almost looked like a wild hog - but it was just a really big raccoon headed up into a tree. I guess that is both good and bad.
Even with the slow mid-day, it was really pleasant. Cool but not cold. Little wind. Good thinking time...
Deer season is a good measure of the passage of time. I've been hunting Mike's now every year for 12 years. It doesn't seem that long; I might have guessed half that. It is hard not to think about all that has changed in a dozen years and all that hasn't.
I figured activity would pick up again as the afternoon wore on so I got a little more vigilant and was rewarded with a buck moving behind me (again behind me...) around 3:00. I could tell he was pretty decent, but there was quite a bit of brush in the way making him hard to see. The distance wasn't too far and I saw an opening in the brush if he continued. He wasn't moving fast, and as he entered the small clearing I was ready, holding my gun stock against the tree using my hand as a rest.
At the shot he ran south and lunged like a hit-deer usually does. Then he stopped and just turned around to look in my direction. I thought the shot was good, but he was still standing and now at a much greater distance with more brush in the way. I had another round chambered and tried to send another Nosler his way only to hear my gun go - click. WTF*&&^^%$%^&&** I chambered a third round it left the barrel with a bit too much hope.
Note to self - it is time to replace the firing pin spring in my 30.06!!!
I could no longer see the deer which might be good or bad. At least there was lots of daylight left.
I climbed down in my treestand and headed in his direction. As I crested the hill he was on, I easily saw him on the ground just a short distance from the south end of the property.
I walked up to him seeing the gnarly headgear. Once I was next to him though, I saw his left antler was broken off right above the brow tine. I've hunted with people in the past who would have been royally pissed at this. Not me - even his one antler is pretty impressive and my taxidermy bill doesn't have to increase now. There are always bright sides!
In addition to the broken antler, he had a bunch of other battle scars. He was definitely a cool deer - a fighter with enough years to think he was tough stuff. I guess as tough as the deer was, he was no match for a Nosler. I hope I never cease to remember, that once I pull the trigger, something will probably die.
I'm pretty sure it was my first shot that brought him down. It was a bit far back but through both lungs. Given the distance, brush and misfire, if it was that second shot, that would bring all kinds of angst.
The deer was really big so I knew the work was just starting. I drug him a short distance to where I could easily find him and packed out my gun and treestand. I took off some of my warm clothes and headed back to field dress him. He stunk like only a mature buck does.
Then the real work began. Through two small ravines, down to the bottom of the big ravine, across the two creeks then up the final mother-of-all-hills. By the last hill I was dragging him in short bursts only about 10 feet at a time followed by resting for a minute or two. I'm in reasonably good shape, but this was painful and exhausting. And yet, it was oddly a labor of love.
Finally at the top of the hill to next to my Ridgeline, Mike came out. We laughed about yet another deer that died at the far end of his property, "After 2016, I wasn't going to ask for help this time."
Mike grabbed a few boards to help me load him into the bed of the truck. I did the online check in before heading home just as it was getting dark.
Back at home I cut off his antlers and got him hung up. I did minimal clean-up since there will be more time for that with a few days off.
Sunday was spent cutting and chopping and cleaning and cutting and then grinding and grinding. I'm never sure which surprises me more - how much meat I get off a good whitetail, or how much (bones, hide, etc.) is left after.
The day started with a bit of residual soreness from dragging the deer and ended with more unusual pains from working on the deer most of the day. But I know the meat will last a long time so it is worth it to take my time.
I still have vacation to burn for the year and a doe tag, but there isn't a reason to be greedy with a nearly-full freezer.
It is hard to be anything but thankful for another successful deer hunt.
