It's a rainy morning here in eastern Missouri. Just perfect for catching up with my notes and planning for the next hunt.
Remember how I was seeing deer coming from a trail leading out of a thicket and how I was going to put a hang on stand in the perfect tree close by?
It didn't get done!
I had a chance to make some pocket money yesterday and took the opportunity. That kept me busy well past midday and the time to get that stand in place slipped by.
I like to put my stands up during midday when things aren't so active and it gives a few hours for the area to calm down and the latent scent to dissipate.
So not wanting to waist an evening, I headed out for the creek crossing ground blind for one more hunt.
I'd spent too much time there already and figured it needed a rest. It doesn't take long for a spot to get figured out by the local deer and I figured they were hip to this spot.
The evening was quiet. A light, intermittant rain broke the silence from time to time with it's leaf soaking patter.
Here and there, through the open forest, squirrels searched for nuts, occasionally reacting to some unseen (by me) threat and scurrying up a nearby oak.
Bluejays flitted back and forth looking for something to scold and a single crow flew high about the tree tops calling for his brothers and no doubt thinking about a favorite roosting place.
The Herons which had given my a start or two didn't work up and down the creek. A very quiet evening indeed.
Some deer were already in the bean field working for their supper, so that part was normal. I wondered if I would continue to see movement as early as I had been.
Nothing moved until half an hour before last light. Up the hill, from the trail that leads from the thicket, I caught just a hint of movement.
Something big had crossed between two tree trunks and I'd caught just a glimpse.
Without looking forward I turned my attention to my bow which was leaning against the log which gave me cover.
With the bow in hand I slid to one knee and grabbed the arrow which was neatly tucked under the log to protect the fletching from moisture.
As the nock clipped into it's resting spot on the nocking point, I turned my attention to the movement.
In seconds a buck moved from behind the trees, some 70 yards from me. He was soon joined by a second and a third.
It took a look through my binoculars to identify them as bucks. In the dreary light and because of the darkness of their antlers they'd been hard to see.
I was surprised at how big the antlers were and I'd not been able to see them. The last buck in line was a definate candidate for my buck tag... though I've decided not to be selective around here this year.
Topic: The Way East.... another bowhunting journey. (Read 26890 times)
