Tuesday was wasted doing my wash and wax. I explained, as I sat in the coin-op with a local man, "I got people coming into camp...figured I otta shower." That got a chuckle, which is one of the things that make my day. He had twisted his ankle, so I helped him shift stuff from machine to machine. He bought me a slice of pumpkin pie, which made me the winner in that deal. Pumpkin is my favorite!
So, wet-haired, I returned to camp in the rain. It has been a cold camp so far, because of the burn ban because of the drought. West Virginia lifted their ban, what with the snow and all the rain, but Virginia is just plain stubborn. Or maybe we haven't gotten precip in some spots. I spent time in the cookshack in front of the pregnant lady, drying my hair and the bath towels. I also started a very good book, Edwin Way Teale's book on J. Henri Fabre's book on insects. Mostly dry, I zippered my way out of the cookshack and into the tent, lighted the lantern and read way into the night.
The next morning, it was still raining. About mid-morning it toned down into a foggy drizzle. Cool! I went to the truck and grabbed the K-Mag. The handle was white. Just moisture in the wax, but enough to make me rethink taking it for this day's hunt. Damn.
I unlimbered the Dakota, and shot a couple broadheads. No good. I adjusted the brace, tested different nocking points. Then it started to really rain again. Oy. While it rained, I tied on the nocking points. The rain let up, and I tried the bow again, and it shaped up nicely. Good to go!
I went up the logging skid to the Shelter Ridge to stillhunt. The rain had let up but the fog was really thick. Other than some beans, there was no sign of deer here. They must be eating a lot of leaves, for there are almost NO places that they have pawed. What pawings there are are very small, like a half-hearted dig in passing. No rubs, no scrapes.
This was SO wrong. This ridge used to get well-used by this time of year. Not now. I was very surprised at the lack of rubs, though they have been declining slowly and steadily over the years. But none?
Most of the beans were over at the Squirrel Cage, a place that I have never figured a strategy for. It is the junction of the shelter ridge and a saddle ridge that runs to Buck Knob. The wind is the squirreliest thing about the Cage. While I was there, I fell prey to the beauty of the spot, and my bow, and took pictures.
The witch hazel was blooming gaily along the ridgetop. I always feel lucky when I see that. Often, I hang scent rags in it, letting the breezes carry the scent of attractive does down the hillside to passing bucks.
Rain came and went, came and went. I meandered down to Clyde's Point, where I took my first deer in 1988. Clyde, a year and a half old buck, had spikes a half inch long. I looked and looked, I thought he had a leaf stuck on his head. No, there was a matching leaf on the other side, so I shot him. Only deer I ever shot out of a tree stand. These are the trees, and boards from the stand are in between their trunks at the base. More of them are still up where they were.
Pictures were all I harvested that day, lovely as it was. Perhaps it was because of a certain entity, skulking about in the shadows. I would look around and see nothing, but I knew it was there. Finally, I set my eyes on wide angle and spun around. There it was, behind me, frozen stock still, trying to remain unseen. Its camouflage was nearly perfect. Taking advantage of its trust in camo and no movement, I snapped a quick pic before it vanished.
I decided to go back to camp.
Killdeer
Topic: Killdeer in the Wood (Read 31337 times)
