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Monday, January 31, 2011
How to leave a Comment
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Thislewaite wma
Thistlewaite Wildlife Managemenat Area has always piqued my curiosity. It has a type of environment/habitat I have very little experience with and presents a unique challenge testing my hunting skills. It boasts of a beautiful hardwood forest with the floor covered with a massive sea of green palmetto plants. The first time I ventured there was with my cousin Bobby. We wanted to do a little exploring, I was intimidated by the impenetrable head-high palmeto fronds. They were so thick my eyes couldn't see where I was placing my feet on the ground. It made me uncomfortable. I had a particularly nasty encounter with a massive rattlesnake in the past, where one could see. With the impression it left on me, being blind made me a little nervous. It didn't get any better during the next three days Bobby and I spent there in a pouring rain. At the conclusion of which I tucked my tail in and scampered for home, vowing I would never return, but I did.
Thistlewaite is managed for trophy whitetails with antler restrictions. The idea of having an encounter with one of these brutes wouldn't allow the thought of not going back die a natural death. It continued to gnaw on me. The place also has a youth hunt which suspends the antler restrictions to allow the youngsters an opportunity to harvest smaller sized bucks and thus increase their chance of success.
My son Matthew was old enough to supervise a youngster and graciously took the time to accompany his brother Patrick, to the woods. I had Christopher. We decided to hook up the old trailer and go visit Thistlewaite. We had to park the trailer in an rv campground in the back of a loud juking, foot stomping, fist fighting, women chasing, right place to have a good time type of bar. It was the only park I could locate in the Washington community. I siezed the opportunity to point out and try to educate the young men on the many hazards of drinking and chasing wild women. It's amazing how much potency alcohol has to affect the behavior of otherwise, well behaved-good men and women.
We spent the weekend bleary-eyed and sleepy in the woods due to the lack of sleep from being forced to listen to the cranked up juke box all night. We had found plenty of deer sign in a recently logged area and set our stands to hunt. Unfortunately the deer may have seen our heads jerking while trying to stay awake and avoided us. Whatever the reason, we didn't see any animals, but the weekend was well spent. We went home with our bonds to one another strengthened with a precious new memory. I promised myself again that I would not return.
Well folks, this past Saturday I broke that committment to myself. My friend Ian, whom I call "Number One" since he is the only archer to ever beat me in a state tournament and I . . . returned to Thistlewaite.
I fessed up to my competetive pedigreed-state champiom calibered companion and let him know how timid I was of the environment of the area. He was dutifully intrigued by my truthfulness and laid my fears to rest. I will always be grateful to Number One for doing that and for increasing my confidence factor. I am a much better person for it. Confession works, you may want to try it.
We arrived in the predawn darkness with a sliver of silver moon hanging in the night's star studded sky. A chill was in the air. Very few hunters were evident(I think we know why . . . good sense and rattlesnakes!). We had the palmetto sea to ourselves. We fought our way through the fronds and twisted our way through a clear cut and almost tripped with every step. Trip me up limbs lay hidden in our path. I had grown frustrated after traveling a very far distance . . . of about a hundred yards and called a hasty retreat.
We returned to the walking path covered in water and spongy with a sticky-clinging type of mud. Our rubber boots became heavier with each step as we traveled deeper into the green sea. The sleepy sun began making its first appearance and we found a place where several deer had recently crossed the path and entered the palmettos to our right. Prime time was upon us and Number One said he would follow the animals into the woods and climb a tree to hunt. I agreed it was worth a shot and said I would continue down the trail a short distance and do the same. We also concluded he would stay in his stand until I returned at eleven o'clock.
Three hundred yards or so later, I discovered a second deer crossing and backed off the trail to climb my own tree. You can imagine my pleasant surprise to discover a buck rub nearby and a scrape. My feelings of frustratons fled and I became hyper-charged with a positive enrgy expecting to see a deer.
Once I had climbed and sat above the tops of the palmettos and piles of debris left behind by the logging operation, I could see a briar patch the deer had eaten down to the ground. The day was very peaceful. Not a breeze stirred while the birds sang, twittered and fluttered. Time flew as I became lost in thought and prayer, thanking God for the wonderful gifts and the time to be there with Him and my friend Ian.
A loud noise rudely shattered my tranquility and intruded into my consciousness. It sounded like someone had picken up a switch and heartily whacked a palmetto frond a single blow or maybe a squirrel had knocked a rotten limb loose from a tree to crash to the earth. Two more sounds of the same nature soon followed, puzzling me more. Could it be a deer? With the small amount of experience I had in this type of environment, I didn't know. But with the descending volume of sound with each whack, it soon became clear that whatever was creating the noise was moving the wrong way, away from me and Number One. To be on the safe side I pulled out my call and grunted twice. An eruption of crashes occurred as a result with each louder than the last!
I thought it must be a deer, but being as it was behind me, I dared not turned to look and see. The slightest movement before I was ready to shoot could alert the animal to my presence and send it fleeing. The noise stopped. I grunted. A closer crash resulted. WHACK! grrrrrunt! WHACK! grrrrunt. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK . WHACK . . .whack . whack . . whack . . .whack______gone! And I still didn't know with a hundred percent certainty what it was. The good news was that I had turned it and it was now headed to my compadre. My ace in the hole. My can't miss state champion archer. The master of calm when the heat is on. There's no other person I would prefer to be watching my back than my ol' reliable, THE "Number One" Ian. If it was deer, I knew the odds were high we'd have some groceries for the table.
I waited until eleven with no further activity worth mentioning and climbed down. I packed my gear and started down the trail to meet my partner, wondering if he had seen what had made the noise. My head was down searching for and seeing the same old tracks I had seen on the way in. I began nearing the spot where the two of us had split up and noticed fresh tracks in the mud and looked up. I was sort of surprised to see Ian sitting on log a short distance away. he said he was going to wait until he saw me to get down from the tree. And then it dawned on me as to why he was down.
I pointed down to the new tracks and said, "Ian! You shot this deer!"
"Deadeye, I've got a story for you. Come have a seat."
It's always a good idea to leave the deer alone for a while to give it time to expire and I couldn't think of a better way to spend it than listening to a good story. He scooted over the rough bark of the cut tree trunk to make room for me to sit down. He refused to tell me what he shot right away and began spinning the tale of what happened during his hunt in a slow-agonizing way.
"Deadeye, I found an intersection in the deer trail and climbed a tree. I faced west to keep the rising sun out of my eyes. I heard a strange sound around 8:15. Something was making a crashing type of noise in the palmettos. I turned around to see what it was and saw three deer headed straight to me. One appeared to have a stiff or injured leg and was hopping over the top of the palmettos. Two were big does and one was a button buck. All three continued to nervously glance behind them, looking over their shoulders, as if a buck was following(remember, I had been using the buck grunt call). I tried to find him, but couldn't. One of the does left the pack and headed off in a different direction, by itself. The stiff legged doe and young buck continued to come to me and were getting closer. They went behind a large pile of fallen logs and blocked me from their sight. I stood up to get ready. I managed to do it without alerting them. They had no clue I was in the area and were almost to me. They passed behind a second pile of logs and I drew the bow back, placed my eye to the sight and waited for them to show. The stiff legged doe showed first. Everything was right. I decided to take the shot to put her out of her misery. I released the arrow and sent it on its way." He paused a long time here and gave me a deep-pondering look.
"Quit that Number One, tell me what happened, finish the story so we can go find her," I said hoping to spur him onward. he was killing me with anticipation and I was getting worried the coyotes would find the deceased animal first.
"Deadeye, I watched the arrow leave the rest and zero in on her shoulder. The flight was true and going to hit the mark(as if I had a doubt)," He paused again.
"Come on Man, PLEASE, FINISH THE STORY!" As you can see, my excitement was trying to get the best of me.
"Calm down Deadeye. I will," he replied and paused an inordinately long amount of time again before continuing. "Like I was saying, the arrow flew true, but at the sound of the bow, the doe dropped flat on her belly and hit the ground. I watched the arrow sail cleanly over her back, Deadeye I missed!"
I felt my young friend's pain and was momentarily shocked speechless and wanted to cry(not really). I've heard of this happening to others before and it's not at all unusual, but to me it didn't really matter. I left Thistlewaite Saturday with what I had hoped to recieve at the start of the day. I went home with another great hunt in the bag, another good adventure and most important a wonderful memory of a day spent in God's great outdoors, bonding with my new friend. Memories . . . its what life is. Try to make your days count too, in a positive way.
Father, thank you . . . for showing me the way.
P.S. Stay tuned, "No Primer" Shannon and I plan to go back next Saturday for the final hunt of the season!
Thistlewaite is managed for trophy whitetails with antler restrictions. The idea of having an encounter with one of these brutes wouldn't allow the thought of not going back die a natural death. It continued to gnaw on me. The place also has a youth hunt which suspends the antler restrictions to allow the youngsters an opportunity to harvest smaller sized bucks and thus increase their chance of success.
My son Matthew was old enough to supervise a youngster and graciously took the time to accompany his brother Patrick, to the woods. I had Christopher. We decided to hook up the old trailer and go visit Thistlewaite. We had to park the trailer in an rv campground in the back of a loud juking, foot stomping, fist fighting, women chasing, right place to have a good time type of bar. It was the only park I could locate in the Washington community. I siezed the opportunity to point out and try to educate the young men on the many hazards of drinking and chasing wild women. It's amazing how much potency alcohol has to affect the behavior of otherwise, well behaved-good men and women.
We spent the weekend bleary-eyed and sleepy in the woods due to the lack of sleep from being forced to listen to the cranked up juke box all night. We had found plenty of deer sign in a recently logged area and set our stands to hunt. Unfortunately the deer may have seen our heads jerking while trying to stay awake and avoided us. Whatever the reason, we didn't see any animals, but the weekend was well spent. We went home with our bonds to one another strengthened with a precious new memory. I promised myself again that I would not return.
Well folks, this past Saturday I broke that committment to myself. My friend Ian, whom I call "Number One" since he is the only archer to ever beat me in a state tournament and I . . . returned to Thistlewaite.
I fessed up to my competetive pedigreed-state champiom calibered companion and let him know how timid I was of the environment of the area. He was dutifully intrigued by my truthfulness and laid my fears to rest. I will always be grateful to Number One for doing that and for increasing my confidence factor. I am a much better person for it. Confession works, you may want to try it.
We arrived in the predawn darkness with a sliver of silver moon hanging in the night's star studded sky. A chill was in the air. Very few hunters were evident(I think we know why . . . good sense and rattlesnakes!). We had the palmetto sea to ourselves. We fought our way through the fronds and twisted our way through a clear cut and almost tripped with every step. Trip me up limbs lay hidden in our path. I had grown frustrated after traveling a very far distance . . . of about a hundred yards and called a hasty retreat.
We returned to the walking path covered in water and spongy with a sticky-clinging type of mud. Our rubber boots became heavier with each step as we traveled deeper into the green sea. The sleepy sun began making its first appearance and we found a place where several deer had recently crossed the path and entered the palmettos to our right. Prime time was upon us and Number One said he would follow the animals into the woods and climb a tree to hunt. I agreed it was worth a shot and said I would continue down the trail a short distance and do the same. We also concluded he would stay in his stand until I returned at eleven o'clock.
Three hundred yards or so later, I discovered a second deer crossing and backed off the trail to climb my own tree. You can imagine my pleasant surprise to discover a buck rub nearby and a scrape. My feelings of frustratons fled and I became hyper-charged with a positive enrgy expecting to see a deer.
Once I had climbed and sat above the tops of the palmettos and piles of debris left behind by the logging operation, I could see a briar patch the deer had eaten down to the ground. The day was very peaceful. Not a breeze stirred while the birds sang, twittered and fluttered. Time flew as I became lost in thought and prayer, thanking God for the wonderful gifts and the time to be there with Him and my friend Ian.
A loud noise rudely shattered my tranquility and intruded into my consciousness. It sounded like someone had picken up a switch and heartily whacked a palmetto frond a single blow or maybe a squirrel had knocked a rotten limb loose from a tree to crash to the earth. Two more sounds of the same nature soon followed, puzzling me more. Could it be a deer? With the small amount of experience I had in this type of environment, I didn't know. But with the descending volume of sound with each whack, it soon became clear that whatever was creating the noise was moving the wrong way, away from me and Number One. To be on the safe side I pulled out my call and grunted twice. An eruption of crashes occurred as a result with each louder than the last!
I thought it must be a deer, but being as it was behind me, I dared not turned to look and see. The slightest movement before I was ready to shoot could alert the animal to my presence and send it fleeing. The noise stopped. I grunted. A closer crash resulted. WHACK! grrrrrunt! WHACK! grrrrunt. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK . WHACK . . .whack . whack . . whack . . .whack______gone! And I still didn't know with a hundred percent certainty what it was. The good news was that I had turned it and it was now headed to my compadre. My ace in the hole. My can't miss state champion archer. The master of calm when the heat is on. There's no other person I would prefer to be watching my back than my ol' reliable, THE "Number One" Ian. If it was deer, I knew the odds were high we'd have some groceries for the table.
I waited until eleven with no further activity worth mentioning and climbed down. I packed my gear and started down the trail to meet my partner, wondering if he had seen what had made the noise. My head was down searching for and seeing the same old tracks I had seen on the way in. I began nearing the spot where the two of us had split up and noticed fresh tracks in the mud and looked up. I was sort of surprised to see Ian sitting on log a short distance away. he said he was going to wait until he saw me to get down from the tree. And then it dawned on me as to why he was down.
I pointed down to the new tracks and said, "Ian! You shot this deer!"
"Deadeye, I've got a story for you. Come have a seat."
It's always a good idea to leave the deer alone for a while to give it time to expire and I couldn't think of a better way to spend it than listening to a good story. He scooted over the rough bark of the cut tree trunk to make room for me to sit down. He refused to tell me what he shot right away and began spinning the tale of what happened during his hunt in a slow-agonizing way.
"Deadeye, I found an intersection in the deer trail and climbed a tree. I faced west to keep the rising sun out of my eyes. I heard a strange sound around 8:15. Something was making a crashing type of noise in the palmettos. I turned around to see what it was and saw three deer headed straight to me. One appeared to have a stiff or injured leg and was hopping over the top of the palmettos. Two were big does and one was a button buck. All three continued to nervously glance behind them, looking over their shoulders, as if a buck was following(remember, I had been using the buck grunt call). I tried to find him, but couldn't. One of the does left the pack and headed off in a different direction, by itself. The stiff legged doe and young buck continued to come to me and were getting closer. They went behind a large pile of fallen logs and blocked me from their sight. I stood up to get ready. I managed to do it without alerting them. They had no clue I was in the area and were almost to me. They passed behind a second pile of logs and I drew the bow back, placed my eye to the sight and waited for them to show. The stiff legged doe showed first. Everything was right. I decided to take the shot to put her out of her misery. I released the arrow and sent it on its way." He paused a long time here and gave me a deep-pondering look.
"Quit that Number One, tell me what happened, finish the story so we can go find her," I said hoping to spur him onward. he was killing me with anticipation and I was getting worried the coyotes would find the deceased animal first.
"Deadeye, I watched the arrow leave the rest and zero in on her shoulder. The flight was true and going to hit the mark(as if I had a doubt)," He paused again.
"Come on Man, PLEASE, FINISH THE STORY!" As you can see, my excitement was trying to get the best of me.
"Calm down Deadeye. I will," he replied and paused an inordinately long amount of time again before continuing. "Like I was saying, the arrow flew true, but at the sound of the bow, the doe dropped flat on her belly and hit the ground. I watched the arrow sail cleanly over her back, Deadeye I missed!"
I felt my young friend's pain and was momentarily shocked speechless and wanted to cry(not really). I've heard of this happening to others before and it's not at all unusual, but to me it didn't really matter. I left Thistlewaite Saturday with what I had hoped to recieve at the start of the day. I went home with another great hunt in the bag, another good adventure and most important a wonderful memory of a day spent in God's great outdoors, bonding with my new friend. Memories . . . its what life is. Try to make your days count too, in a positive way.
Father, thank you . . . for showing me the way.
P.S. Stay tuned, "No Primer" Shannon and I plan to go back next Saturday for the final hunt of the season!
Thursday, January 27, 2011
The Week of Primitive Firearms in the Red
I returned on Monday and met my nephew Noah and his buddy Brad, who ended up adopting me as his uncle. I was happy to see the two young hunters in camp. They always provide some entertainment. Brad also makes some mighty good coffee in the mornings and his wife sent some delicious gumbo to heat on the fire.
We hit the woods that evening and did some major scouting. Brad located several scrapes near the road and backed off into the woods to hunt. He saw three deer that evening, but didn't get a shot. Noah stayed with me until we found a place with a lot of promising sign. We didn't see anything that evening.
("No Primer") Shannon and the only man to ever beat me in a state archery tournament, ("Number One") Ian showed up the next day. We decided to pull an all day hunt.
I gave No Primer and Ol' Number One an extra GPS with the waypoints stored showing good stand locations in piece of woods choked with briar patches. They got an early jump on Noah and I since we were running a little late after dropping Brad off on the other end of the reserve. Arriving minutes before daylight and not wanting to take the same path Shannon and Ian did, to scare their deer away. I decided to wait until daylight to be able to take a different approach to our stands.
Daylight broke on the cool-crispy morning and I told Noah we would follow the nearby bayou to get to our stands. It was in drought conditions and the water was very low. The normally ten-twelve foot dept had shrank to a low enough level to allow crossing in knee boots. The alternating high and low banks lay exposed on both sides. With the banks normally covered by water there was no accumulation of dry leaves to crunch underfoot while walking.
I had an idea. I decided to do something I've always wanted to try to do, but have never had the right conditions, as this. I wanted to see if I could out fox an old wiley whitetail buck by convincing it I was another buck invading his domain. I explained to Noah what I intended to do.
"Hey Noah, we're goin to try something. I want to sneak up on an old buck and shoot him where he stands. I think we can do it. Want to give it a try?"
He gave me a brief look that conveyed to me he thought his old uncle was going crazy, but being a nice guy he responded.
"Sure Uncle Rodney, that sounds like fun."
"Okay then, here's how we'll do it. I'll begin by walking quietly in the dry bed of the bayou while you keep a sharp eye out for movement in the woods along the bank. When I reach a spot where I can see on either side, I'll give a grunt on my deer call. That's when you begin to move forward. Continue past me until you find a good place to stop, grunt and I'll move forward. It's kind of like playing leap frog. Got it?"
"Yes sir," he said a little dubiously.
"Okay, here we go," I said and moved off into the quiet-dry bed of the bayou. Occasionally I would find myself obstructed by a fallen tree or some other type of debris and forced to move up onto the dry leaf covered forest floor to maneuver around it. There was no quiet way to do it, so what I did was vigorously kick the noisy leaves around and grunt several times as I did so, hoping to confuse any old buck in the area. Afterwards, I dropped back into the creek and continued on my way.
We were doing this for two and a half hours when I stopped and grunted for Noah to begin moving. I glanced at him to see if he had heard me since I had traveled a little further than normal. To my great surprise I saw him with his rifle raised and his head was down. His eye was aquiring the sight picture in the scope and his finger was on the trigger!
"Yay! It worked!" My happy mind screamed as I waited for the loud shot to sound out. I was a little confused when it didn't happen right away. Over the next five minutes of so, Noah looked through the scope, raised his head to stare at me with eyes as big as saucers, lower his eye back to the scope and repeat the process over and over. I knew right away my little buddy was suffering with a horrible fever and tried to search the thicket for the buck to shoot for him, but I couldn't do it.
The torture finally ended when Noah lowered his rifle and started to take a step toward me. I held up my hand to stop him and quietly made my way back to his location.
"Noah what happened?" I whispered.
"Uncle Rodney, it was a good buck!" he said and held up his spread hands indicating main beams extending past the deer's ears by eighteen inches or so. The spread hands told me it was a verry goood buck, at least eight most likely more points.
"It was a six point Uncle Rodney! And it was following us!"
"Did it act spooked or scared?"
"No sir, it just casually walked over there taking its time and stood around for a few minutes."
"Noah, why didn't you squeeze the trigger?"
"I didn't have a good shot."
"Noah, don't tell me that. I know you had those cross hairs on his body, didn't you? What you had was a case of buck fever."
"Well, I was a little excited," he finally admitted.
"Aw, don't worry about it, Noah. I'll let it go this time, but you better not let it happen again. Just remember you have to squeeze the trigger. Squeeze the trigger Noah, do you understand?"
Yes sir, it won't happen again. I promise."
"Good, here's what we're goin to do now. You've said the buck slowly walked away, so you stay here for the next hour while I continue alone. I'll try to either shoot the deer or push it back to you. He'll use the same trail and come back to you. It's nine o'clock now. At ten start moving up to meet me. Okay?"
"Yes sir," he responded and I started to move away, but paused. There was one more thing I needed to say to my young partner.
"Oh yeah, one more thing Noah."
"Sir?" he asked a little bewildered.
"Don't you dare miss!" I informed him and trned away to start my journey, alone.
An hour flew by and I knew Noah was starting move. I hadn't seen the deer or heard my little buddy shoot, so I exited the semi-dry bayou moved a short distance into the woods where I could a little ways. I found a comfortable tree to lean against and place a fallen tree branch still covered with dead brown leaves next to me, to serve as a blind.
It didn't take long before I saw Noah creeping along the bank of the bayou, on high alert looking for the buck. Being behind the fallen tree branch covered with leaves the same color as the deer, I didn't want to make any sudden movements for the hunter to make a possible mistake. And I didn't want to make any loud noise by calling out to him where I was or it would have scared the deer away from the area. So I just waited for him to come closer, but he stopped way off to my right and remained rooted to the ground. His eyes searching the thicket. I heard an animal trotting through the leaves to my left, hidden from sight by the tree I was sitting against. I just knew it was the buck and began to get ready while the tree blocked me from its view. The sound grew louder and a brown body came into view, only twenty-five yards away. It was a fawn-eating coyote. It didn't take me long to jump to the conclusion to take him out. I'll save the buck for another day and possibly save a few other wild critters in the process. It was time to contribute and make a sacrifice.
The coyote sensed something wrong and stopped in its tracks to peer at me. I squeezed the trigger and dropped it instantly. I couldn't help but laugh a little as I knew I had just scared poor Noah out of his wits with the loud report!
I had to call out to him several times before he answered and came my way.
"Sorry I scared you Noah, but I just had to shoot it."
"That's alright Uncle Rodney, but I have to tell you. I jumped nearly six feet and almost ruined my pants!"
We made a memory together. One I will definately cherish for a lifetime. Thanks Noah, for being such a good sport, a good person and a great hunter!
P.S. Noah relocated his stand to where he saw the buck and harvested a fat doe, later that evening. He didn't miss and I doubt if he ever will.
We hit the woods that evening and did some major scouting. Brad located several scrapes near the road and backed off into the woods to hunt. He saw three deer that evening, but didn't get a shot. Noah stayed with me until we found a place with a lot of promising sign. We didn't see anything that evening.
("No Primer") Shannon and the only man to ever beat me in a state archery tournament, ("Number One") Ian showed up the next day. We decided to pull an all day hunt.
I gave No Primer and Ol' Number One an extra GPS with the waypoints stored showing good stand locations in piece of woods choked with briar patches. They got an early jump on Noah and I since we were running a little late after dropping Brad off on the other end of the reserve. Arriving minutes before daylight and not wanting to take the same path Shannon and Ian did, to scare their deer away. I decided to wait until daylight to be able to take a different approach to our stands.
Daylight broke on the cool-crispy morning and I told Noah we would follow the nearby bayou to get to our stands. It was in drought conditions and the water was very low. The normally ten-twelve foot dept had shrank to a low enough level to allow crossing in knee boots. The alternating high and low banks lay exposed on both sides. With the banks normally covered by water there was no accumulation of dry leaves to crunch underfoot while walking.
I had an idea. I decided to do something I've always wanted to try to do, but have never had the right conditions, as this. I wanted to see if I could out fox an old wiley whitetail buck by convincing it I was another buck invading his domain. I explained to Noah what I intended to do.
"Hey Noah, we're goin to try something. I want to sneak up on an old buck and shoot him where he stands. I think we can do it. Want to give it a try?"
He gave me a brief look that conveyed to me he thought his old uncle was going crazy, but being a nice guy he responded.
"Sure Uncle Rodney, that sounds like fun."
"Okay then, here's how we'll do it. I'll begin by walking quietly in the dry bed of the bayou while you keep a sharp eye out for movement in the woods along the bank. When I reach a spot where I can see on either side, I'll give a grunt on my deer call. That's when you begin to move forward. Continue past me until you find a good place to stop, grunt and I'll move forward. It's kind of like playing leap frog. Got it?"
"Yes sir," he said a little dubiously.
"Okay, here we go," I said and moved off into the quiet-dry bed of the bayou. Occasionally I would find myself obstructed by a fallen tree or some other type of debris and forced to move up onto the dry leaf covered forest floor to maneuver around it. There was no quiet way to do it, so what I did was vigorously kick the noisy leaves around and grunt several times as I did so, hoping to confuse any old buck in the area. Afterwards, I dropped back into the creek and continued on my way.
We were doing this for two and a half hours when I stopped and grunted for Noah to begin moving. I glanced at him to see if he had heard me since I had traveled a little further than normal. To my great surprise I saw him with his rifle raised and his head was down. His eye was aquiring the sight picture in the scope and his finger was on the trigger!
"Yay! It worked!" My happy mind screamed as I waited for the loud shot to sound out. I was a little confused when it didn't happen right away. Over the next five minutes of so, Noah looked through the scope, raised his head to stare at me with eyes as big as saucers, lower his eye back to the scope and repeat the process over and over. I knew right away my little buddy was suffering with a horrible fever and tried to search the thicket for the buck to shoot for him, but I couldn't do it.
The torture finally ended when Noah lowered his rifle and started to take a step toward me. I held up my hand to stop him and quietly made my way back to his location.
"Noah what happened?" I whispered.
"Uncle Rodney, it was a good buck!" he said and held up his spread hands indicating main beams extending past the deer's ears by eighteen inches or so. The spread hands told me it was a verry goood buck, at least eight most likely more points.
"It was a six point Uncle Rodney! And it was following us!"
"Did it act spooked or scared?"
"No sir, it just casually walked over there taking its time and stood around for a few minutes."
"Noah, why didn't you squeeze the trigger?"
"I didn't have a good shot."
"Noah, don't tell me that. I know you had those cross hairs on his body, didn't you? What you had was a case of buck fever."
"Well, I was a little excited," he finally admitted.
"Aw, don't worry about it, Noah. I'll let it go this time, but you better not let it happen again. Just remember you have to squeeze the trigger. Squeeze the trigger Noah, do you understand?"
Yes sir, it won't happen again. I promise."
"Good, here's what we're goin to do now. You've said the buck slowly walked away, so you stay here for the next hour while I continue alone. I'll try to either shoot the deer or push it back to you. He'll use the same trail and come back to you. It's nine o'clock now. At ten start moving up to meet me. Okay?"
"Yes sir," he responded and I started to move away, but paused. There was one more thing I needed to say to my young partner.
"Oh yeah, one more thing Noah."
"Sir?" he asked a little bewildered.
"Don't you dare miss!" I informed him and trned away to start my journey, alone.
An hour flew by and I knew Noah was starting move. I hadn't seen the deer or heard my little buddy shoot, so I exited the semi-dry bayou moved a short distance into the woods where I could a little ways. I found a comfortable tree to lean against and place a fallen tree branch still covered with dead brown leaves next to me, to serve as a blind.
It didn't take long before I saw Noah creeping along the bank of the bayou, on high alert looking for the buck. Being behind the fallen tree branch covered with leaves the same color as the deer, I didn't want to make any sudden movements for the hunter to make a possible mistake. And I didn't want to make any loud noise by calling out to him where I was or it would have scared the deer away from the area. So I just waited for him to come closer, but he stopped way off to my right and remained rooted to the ground. His eyes searching the thicket. I heard an animal trotting through the leaves to my left, hidden from sight by the tree I was sitting against. I just knew it was the buck and began to get ready while the tree blocked me from its view. The sound grew louder and a brown body came into view, only twenty-five yards away. It was a fawn-eating coyote. It didn't take me long to jump to the conclusion to take him out. I'll save the buck for another day and possibly save a few other wild critters in the process. It was time to contribute and make a sacrifice.
The coyote sensed something wrong and stopped in its tracks to peer at me. I squeezed the trigger and dropped it instantly. I couldn't help but laugh a little as I knew I had just scared poor Noah out of his wits with the loud report!
I had to call out to him several times before he answered and came my way.
"Sorry I scared you Noah, but I just had to shoot it."
"That's alright Uncle Rodney, but I have to tell you. I jumped nearly six feet and almost ruined my pants!"
We made a memory together. One I will definately cherish for a lifetime. Thanks Noah, for being such a good sport, a good person and a great hunter!
P.S. Noah relocated his stand to where he saw the buck and harvested a fat doe, later that evening. He didn't miss and I doubt if he ever will.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Red River Hunt 2011
All seven of the boys were home and the family had spent a great Christmas together. After seeing Michael to the airport for his return to Fort Drum, New York, where he is stationed with the 10th mountain division, the wild woods of Red River wma began calling out to me.
I hooked up the "old siver bullet" on Dec. 29th and hit the road to answer the call. Following me was an old friend named Kelley Caraway, aka. "The Terminator." It would be his first time in the area and would be staying the next four days with me, in the trailer. His price for admission was two cans of gas and hot food. Everyone who knows me well, knows I can barely make hot dogs or boil water without burning them. In other words, a cook I am not.
We arrived, set up camp and hit the woods to do a little scouting during the first two days in preparation for the opening day of bucks only. After a particularly long-grueling day spent hiking in the woods from sun up to sun down I was starving to death and eagerly looked forward to what the Terminator would be cooking. He pulled out the ingredients and began preparing . . . grilled cheese sandwiches . . .for the next four days!
Lucky for him another old friend showed up and felt sorry for me. Greg Horton set up his tent next to us and cooked a sausage and potatoe gravy one night and homemeade chilli the next. Not only did he provide good company and entertainment he also reported seeing deer where he was hunting and brought us out to his place.
I heard a shot ring out, not long after settling into our stands. The Terminator had come through again by downing a nice four-point buck. He gave Greg and I a piece of fresh venison before happily departing for home.
Greg remained another night and departed the next day after not seeing any mature bucks to harvest. However, he did see a doe and a buck too young to shoot and we had a good time together.
I had a night to myself before Clayton, aka. "A Train" showed up to join me for two days. Meanwhile down on the west end of the campground a hunter named Wiley bagged a monstrous 14pt. buck that is sure to make waves across the state with its impressive anters. They are huge and may be record setters. The next day Wiley's buddy, Scotty downed another brute. His gorgeous animal was an 11pt. sporting a five inch drop tine. Seeing the two hanging in the same tree next to each other was an awesome sight to see. The proud hunters certainly inspired the rest of us to stay in the woods. I became friends with the two after they took pity on me and invited me over to eat some good cookin, after finding out I was alone. I ate like a king. They grilled venison sausage, pork spare ribs and a stuffed roast of backstrap, wrapped in bacon. I get hungry just thinking about it.
I saw five does before leaving to welcome Clayton to camp. Over the next three days he saw one doe and grilled boneless porkchops to eat at night. We had a great time scouting and hunting before he had to leave.
I relocated my stand after Clayton left and set my rifle down to strap it onto a tree at 1:57 in the afternoon. I heard the loud rustling of leaves coming from the direction I had just walked. The sound reminded me of a mini cyclone whipping through the woods. It happened so fast and grew loud so quickly I thought whatever it was, was about to run me over. I whipped my head around to see two mature does running past in full stride and right on their tails was a big old buck chasing them, begging for affection!
I hollered at them hoping to sow confusion and create a moment of hesitation while I reached for my rifle. It didn't work. They were so intent on their game of "catch, if catch can" I don't think they heard my bellowing or even knew I was there.
That old buck would end up being the only one I saw during the first week of bucks only. However I did see a total of twelve does and eagerly looked forward to the following week, which would be an either sex hunt with primitive firearms. I felt certain I would be bringing home some venison then. But first I needed to return home for the intervening weekend to see my brother-in-law Clifford, who had traveled all the way from Baja California (Old Mexico) to visit. And I needed a cure to a little home sickness. And I craved a hot shower, the old gravel pot-holed washboard levee road had shaken a water pipe loose in the old siver bullet. Baby wipes just didn't quite cut it with an old smelly hunter, like me.
I hooked up the "old siver bullet" on Dec. 29th and hit the road to answer the call. Following me was an old friend named Kelley Caraway, aka. "The Terminator." It would be his first time in the area and would be staying the next four days with me, in the trailer. His price for admission was two cans of gas and hot food. Everyone who knows me well, knows I can barely make hot dogs or boil water without burning them. In other words, a cook I am not.
We arrived, set up camp and hit the woods to do a little scouting during the first two days in preparation for the opening day of bucks only. After a particularly long-grueling day spent hiking in the woods from sun up to sun down I was starving to death and eagerly looked forward to what the Terminator would be cooking. He pulled out the ingredients and began preparing . . . grilled cheese sandwiches . . .for the next four days!
Lucky for him another old friend showed up and felt sorry for me. Greg Horton set up his tent next to us and cooked a sausage and potatoe gravy one night and homemeade chilli the next. Not only did he provide good company and entertainment he also reported seeing deer where he was hunting and brought us out to his place.
I heard a shot ring out, not long after settling into our stands. The Terminator had come through again by downing a nice four-point buck. He gave Greg and I a piece of fresh venison before happily departing for home.
Greg remained another night and departed the next day after not seeing any mature bucks to harvest. However, he did see a doe and a buck too young to shoot and we had a good time together.
I had a night to myself before Clayton, aka. "A Train" showed up to join me for two days. Meanwhile down on the west end of the campground a hunter named Wiley bagged a monstrous 14pt. buck that is sure to make waves across the state with its impressive anters. They are huge and may be record setters. The next day Wiley's buddy, Scotty downed another brute. His gorgeous animal was an 11pt. sporting a five inch drop tine. Seeing the two hanging in the same tree next to each other was an awesome sight to see. The proud hunters certainly inspired the rest of us to stay in the woods. I became friends with the two after they took pity on me and invited me over to eat some good cookin, after finding out I was alone. I ate like a king. They grilled venison sausage, pork spare ribs and a stuffed roast of backstrap, wrapped in bacon. I get hungry just thinking about it.
I saw five does before leaving to welcome Clayton to camp. Over the next three days he saw one doe and grilled boneless porkchops to eat at night. We had a great time scouting and hunting before he had to leave.
I relocated my stand after Clayton left and set my rifle down to strap it onto a tree at 1:57 in the afternoon. I heard the loud rustling of leaves coming from the direction I had just walked. The sound reminded me of a mini cyclone whipping through the woods. It happened so fast and grew loud so quickly I thought whatever it was, was about to run me over. I whipped my head around to see two mature does running past in full stride and right on their tails was a big old buck chasing them, begging for affection!
I hollered at them hoping to sow confusion and create a moment of hesitation while I reached for my rifle. It didn't work. They were so intent on their game of "catch, if catch can" I don't think they heard my bellowing or even knew I was there.
That old buck would end up being the only one I saw during the first week of bucks only. However I did see a total of twelve does and eagerly looked forward to the following week, which would be an either sex hunt with primitive firearms. I felt certain I would be bringing home some venison then. But first I needed to return home for the intervening weekend to see my brother-in-law Clifford, who had traveled all the way from Baja California (Old Mexico) to visit. And I needed a cure to a little home sickness. And I craved a hot shower, the old gravel pot-holed washboard levee road had shaken a water pipe loose in the old siver bullet. Baby wipes just didn't quite cut it with an old smelly hunter, like me.
Recap Thanksgiving Hunt With Claudette
Huntin season is winding down for me and its time to start repairing the old airstream again. But before I get started there's some news to share. Claudette ran her Thanksgiving story in the Lake Charles American Press on January 17th. If you missed it there is still an opportunity to see it and other stories online. Just type in "Rodney Hennigan" on your search bar and several sites will pop up featuring different papers across the country running the stories. I've discovered it ran in USA Today, The Houston Chronicle, The San Antonio, Beaumont Enterprise, Alexandria Town Talk and the Fort Polk paper "Newschief". I am in shock, but quite pleased the stories have gone national. Maybe I've helped encourage others to get outside to enjoy God's great gift of the outdoors. Turn the television off, get the kids off the video games and get outside to create good memories together and bond in the process.