The Way East.... another bowhunting journey.

[Jim Jackson]

Looking forward to more Charlie!  Can't wait to get together and try some of that luck on some Ozarks deer.

[Charlie Lamb]

Back from a trip up north and have to admit to having a good time while there!  :D

It was time for my annual trip with old buddy Butch and as usual I had mixed emotions about it.

You see, Butch and I go way back to a time when I'd just moved back east from Wyoming and needed somewhere to hunt.

I'd stopped at a local watering hole one day after work and made aquaintence with one of the regulars. Seems he'd seen me out shooting my bow and was quite interested.

Well, we kind of hit it off and the next thing you know I had access to some local land... small chunk, but it had deer on it.

As time went by, old Butch and I had a bit of a falling out.
You see, Butch liked to sit in the bar on Friday night and see how much whiskey he could drink and then brag about it for the rest of the week.

Not quite my style! I think it must have been the second time that he was supposed to pick me up for a hunt and didn't show that really hacked me off.

I let him know in no uncertain terms that if he wanted to get wasted drunk on weekends, it was fine with me... but I wasn't gonna be part of it and sure wasn't gonna miss a hunting day because he had a hang over.

We didn't hunt together for almost 10 years after that little talk.

Well, one day the phone rang and guess who it was? That's right!
Seems he wasn't drinking like he used to and wanted to know if I'd go hunting with him at his brothers farm up north.

I was ready to blow it off, but thought that since the man had gone out of his way to lay off the sauce and wanted to hunt with me again.... I'd do it.

As with most things connected to the man, there was more to the story than I was hearing.

[Charlie Lamb]

It turned out that Butch's brother, Billy, didn't want him going off by himself and falling out of a tree.
Though I felt that Billy wanted to choke the livin snot out of Butch on more than one occasion, they were afterall, brothers.

Little did I know at the time that Butch's prime concern was getting any deer he might shoot, out of the woods.

He'd always (and still does) complain about his "burning hip,and leg and foot".
That didn't bother me all that much, except I knew for  fact that Butch never was much for doing any kind of physical labor.
But he was my senior by 5 years and I guess I could put up with it since he always made a point to mention that he wasn't drinking "that much" anymore.... besides, he hardly ever shot anything.

So we loaded up Butch's truck at my house. I put my bow and travel bag on the back seat, on top of Butch's hunting clothes... I'd given him a travel bag of his own a few years ago, but to this day he just throws his clothes on the back seat of his truck.

Soon we were headed north.

Interstate 70 bisects the state of Missouri like a concrete belt, separating the "Northern" counties, which are primarily good farm ground, from the southern counties, which are primarily Ozark hills and fit for little but flint production.

It's pretty good deer hunting where we go. Small woodlots are surronded by huge expanses of corn and bean fields.
If it wasn't for the fact that the locals hammer the hell out of the deer, there's be some true wall hangers around.

I guess there still are... you here about them now and then, but always described by the number of points or perceived body weight.

That's the measure of what is and isn't a big buck up there.
The talk after firearms season goes something like this... "Hey Joe, I heard you got a deer?" "Yeah, I got my buck, eight pointer and 175 pounds dressed."  "Wow! That's a good one"!

Hmmmmmm!!

[Charlie Lamb]

We didn't even bother to drop by the farm house to put away our gear when we got there. It was late afternoon and it would be easier to change in the field and get right to the hunting.

Butch had a spot that he'd found and knew of a great spot where I could sit.
Turns out my "great spot" was just beyond where Butch's spot was and "oh by the way, will you help me move my stand".

By now I'm not caught off guard by stuff like that. I've come to expect it.

We moved the homemade ladder stand with the usual amount of cursing and banging of the aluminum part of the stand on every tree and bush on the 80 acres we were hunting.
I did most of the carrying. The old burning hip, and leg and foot thing, ya know.

So once I got him settled and figuring there wasn't a deer left on the property, I drifted off to the far corner of the place for an evening of peace and quiet.

That's about all I got. No deer were sighted and I spent the time easing around looking at sign.
 


Butch had decided on his "hotspot" based on what deer he had seen in the area last year... I should have known.
It didn't seem to matter that we had walked right through much better sign than anything around his new stand site and I didn't say anything... I filed the information away for future use.

[Charlie Lamb]

It being the middle of October and all, I was expecting to find sign's of rutting activity and found it in the usual places.

The usual trails were marked with fresh rubs... some of the fresh rubs were on old rubbed trees and some on brand new trees.

Scrapes were found in there usual spots as well and I knew where I wanted to be before the week was through.
 

Back at the house that night we relaxed and talked about the next day and how we'd approach the hunt and of course there was Butch's usual rant about how expensive archery gear was today and how he didn't know why it costs more than it did in 1967.

And I can't overlook the great Cheerio's conspiracy! You see, Butch is convinced that the maker's of Cheerio's bought out the people that make the generic brand so he'd have to pay more.

I didn't mention that I could buy the generic stuff all day long, almost anywhere.  I let him rant.

He'd seen and heard a big flock of turkeys and insisted I hunt near his stand in the morning. I'd surely get shots at a bird if I did.

Well, morning came soon enough and as I sat staring at the bottom of my cup through what passed as coffee in Butch's world, I tried to tune out the constant stream of babble that spewed from my partners mouth... he wakes up talking to no one in particular!

I passed on his offer of a heart healthy breakfast consisting of a small bowl of instant oatmeal and 6 slices of bacon.

Before we got out the door he just had to show me how he'd fixed a new sight pin on his hunting bow.

Butch has always been a sight shooter. Just a single pin or something like it is all he uses.

I'd fixed him up with one of my best bows which I'd missed weight on a couple years back. He showed up the very next hunt with a paper match taped to the riser.
He said it was his lighted sight pin and thought that was pretty funny stuff right there.
But he wasn't kidding about using that for a sight.

It had been adjusted for point of impact in his usual meticulous way... "that oughta be about the right place"!
I was a little miffed about that, but kept my mouth shut.
I'd later give him an old Merrill Heartshot sight (he pronouces it Morel) so he'd have a decent sight for his bow.... and I haven't seen it since.

This morning I would witness such an engineering feat the likes of which most mortals seldom encounter.

He'd saved his money for a new custom recurve, but somewhere over the months that he was saving, he'd made a few trips to the tavern.... the bow he ended up buying was an entry level Martin. (nice bow, but I wondered how nice a bow he could have gotten with the money he'd drank up)

Anyway, he decided, after I'd suggested drilling and tapping a small hole for a single pin in the sight window of his bow that that was a pretty good idea.

The pin would be out of the way and pretty well protected from bumping or other damage.

What he did was take a #4 finish nail and drove it into the wood of the sight window on that bow with a hammer. (how he got that done, I'll never know!!) "that oughta be about the right spot"!

One thing is sure, it won't ever move!!

I couldn't get off alone soon enough.

[Shaun]

Welcome home Charlie.

[Charlie Lamb]

[Charlie Lamb]

Butch was right about the turkeys. They were roosted in the oaks right where he'd heard them the day before.

As I eased down toward the spot where I'd decided to build a hasty ground blind, I soon found myself surronded by turkeys greeting the new day from above.

The light continued to grow in intensity as I craned my neck to find a bird above me. You see, as long as it's daylight, I'll punch a turkey off his roost... I've never done it, but I would!!

Finally, high in the limbs of a huge red oak, I spotted a gobbler. There was no way to get an arrow up to him, so I just stood watching.
The birds were all getting upset at this point and were leaving the area in one's and two's. I hoped they'd try to regroup here after a while.
It never happened.

So the morning went. No deer spotted and the turkeys never returned.

By the time we'd gotten back to the house, a fine misty rain was coming down. It didn't look good for the afternoon hunt.

You see, part of the Northern Missouri mystique is about the soil. It's rich and fertile and as close as I can tell... bottomless.
Add a little water to the road that leads to the 80 acres and you have an impassable mess.
But there was a plan B!

[Roughcountry]

Ahhh,  Startin to understand "the Butch award"   :D    

[Missouri CK]

Funny stuff Lamb!

And you tell the tale with such enthusiasm!

[Charlie Lamb]

Well, there's a lot more to the tale than I can possibly remember. From the time he gets up in the morning until he falls asleep at night, his mouth is running like a faucet.
I just can't compute all of it. I'd thought of taking notes, but would probably end up with writer's cramp.
Maybe a pocket recorder, but then I'd have to listen to all of it again and don't think my brain could stand the strain.

Plan B was to hunt "up front". Seems Billy owns another 18 acre piece of ground just off the blacktop. We could get in there without problems.

I already knew Butch's plan for the evening. He'd hunt a hotspot he'd found last year.
What that means is he'd go to the stand he'd put up on the spot where I took a deer last year.
That's using your head!!

To get there he only had to walk through all the cover that held deer near the only spot left for me to sit.
Just a small problem for him.

I listened as the crashing of brush faded away and settled in for what I suspected would be a long and fruitless afternoon. I was right.

The temperature was dropping steadilly when we returned to the house, but the forecast was for the rain to clear out.
A steady breeze from the west would dry the back road overnight and we anticipated hunting the 80 in the morning.

Butch was pretty much set on me coming to hunt near him and on the way to the property he told me how he intended to move his stand again.

I agreed that that was probably a pretty good idea, but that I wanted to hunt a different spot. He looked perplexed, but went off toward his stand after we'd parked, while I set off down the field edge toward a spot where I'd seen scrapes, rubs and the unmistakable sign of deer feeding heavilly on acorns in an old slough.

With the cold we were both dressed more heavilly than the day before. I think I had on a few top layers while Butch had pulled on two cotton T shirts with a polypropylene shirt over that. Add two more cotton shirts and a jacket and he was set... even if he was too bound up to draw his bow.

I wondered what had happened to the fleece neck gaiter I'd given him. The one he'd promptly cut eye and mouth holes in to use as a face mask.
He just couldn't understand how he could get so cold. I just shook my head as I thought of our conversation about layering, moisture transfer and leaving the collar of your shirt gapping open.
I've given up on giving presents to help him be more comfortable.

[Charlie Lamb]

It was one of those mornings that you just knew you were going to see deer.
The temps were hovering around 35 degrees and a damp haze hung in the timber. The sun would not be showing today and I felt pretty good about that.

I eased into the area where I'd seen the feeding sign and looked it over one more time.
The original plan was to ghillie up and take a position down wind of the spot, watching several trails that merged near the place.

The more I looked however, the more I realized that an old (but very solid) home built ladder stand was in just the right place for what I wanted to do.

I climbed up and made myself comfortable. Butch's nephew had built the stand two years prior, to firearm's hunt from.
It had a very comfortable seat in it and even though big and blocky, he'd had the forethought to tuck it back in the trunks of a huge multi trunk oak.
Yep! It'd do.

I trimmed away a couple of small branchs for bow limb clearance and one at just the right height to hang my bow from.
 
I like hanging my bow. That way I can keep hands in pockets where they are nice and warm and also avoid shifting around or inadvertant hand movements.

The stand provided an excellent view and I setled in to watch the squirrel show that was in progress around me.

I'd noted the presence of lots of squirrel sign when we first came through. They always know where the tastiest acorns. Seems like if you aren't seeing squirrels and lots of them, you ain't that close to a good deer feeding spot.

I hadn't seen acorns or squirrels on the other parts of the 80 that I'd visited.

About half an hour into my sit, a butterball fat racoon came waddling down the trail.
I always love watching them when they are around and knew he'd spot me if my cover wasn't good or he crossed my entry trail.

I went unnoticed and he missed my trail by a few feet, coming almost to the base of my stand before heading off to whatever mischief he could find.

[Charlie Lamb]

By the time 8 a.m. had rolled around, all I had seen was a couple hundred squirrels (or so it seemed) and the coon.

I had decided that the next big fox squirrel that came by half way close was going to get shot at.
I took the broadhead arrow off the string and stood up.
I wasn't going to be completely off guard... I mean, things are more likely to happen the more vulnerable you get... I'd take the blunt out of the quiver when I saw the opportunity coming.

So there I stood, bow in hand, wondering which squirrel would come close enough to become a victim, when a movement near the field edge got my attention.

A nice buck whitetail was moving slowly through the grass toward a distant trail. I'd watched that trail before and had never been there when a deer was. I wished I'd have picked that spot this morning.... pretty common wish for most guys!  :D  

As he entered the timber I brought my grunt tube to my lips and let go with a soft grunt. He stopped and looked my way.

Shortly he moved forward again. Once again I called softly and once again he stopped.
He was interested, but wasn't going to come. I could tell that much!

Just about the time I was cursing my luck and resigning myself to watching the buck walk away, I heard commotion to my left.

Two more bucks were approaching on a different trail.
Where the first buck was close to 70 yards away, these two would pass me at 15.

By now I had my Magnus I four blade back on the bow and was facing perfectly for a shot at the closer bucks.
 

Note: The yellow "X" is the spot where the first buck stood.

The blue "line" is the path followed by the second buck, who wasn't in the clear until he reached the blue "X".

[Missouri CK]

Lamb,

Thanks for the morning reading material. I've pulled up trad gang between patients this morning.  

Now just so I get this right.  If Butch has to take a long shot does he just pull out a crowbar and bend the nail down?

Looking forward to the conculsion of this story.

Chris

[kojac]

I have a love hate relationship w/you Mr Lamb.

Here it is 5 pages and I have not red a word until now.

I don't really have time to read 5 pages at a time but I on the other hand know before long there will be 10 and I really don't want to read 10 pages in one sitting but if I don't there will be 20.......you all know what I'm getting at.

The worst part of the whole deal is now I can't wait to read page 10  

[Charlie Lamb]

The buck continued on course for the only opening I'd have before he walked into cover and out of my life forever.

As he passed behind the double trunked tree out in front of me he stopped for a moment to survey the area.

All was quiet, I was well hidden and the wind was perfectly in my favor. I focused on the spot where I'd take the shot.

I knew that it was unlikely that he'd stop until after he'd passed the opening, so the shot would have to be taken "on the move".

As he started forward again, I loosened my grip on the bow handle and drew the arrow full. In just a second he was passing through my opening and the arrow was away, barely flickering in the subdued light.

I saw the hit and was a little disappointed. I knew I had a slight angle but didn't know for sure how much of one and the arrow had hit a little far back to suit me.

The buck lunged forward and ran for 30 yards before slowing to a walk. Due to the open nature of the timber, I picked him up quickly in my binoculars.
The wound seemed to be leaking bad.... real bad!

With the glasses, I followed as far as I could see him and with each step my hopes faded a little.
He was going too far, I thought. He should be going down if it's a lethal hit. Dammit!!
I lost sight of him when he crossed the slough a good 100 yards from me and walked out of sight into the woods beyond.

[Charlie Lamb]

It's possible that 30 seconds had gone by since the shot... certainly not more than a minute had passed.
A great crashing sound, as if huge limbs were being crushed under something heavy came from the direction I'd last seen the buck.

I was sure he was down... well, pretty sure. We always second guess these situations.

I've tracked deer within minutes of hitting them and walked right to them. You can do that if you're sure of the hit.
But I wasn't sure of this one... not sure at all. So I waited.

Forty five minutes went by and I decided I'd waited long enough. I'd go find the blood trail and make a decision at that time to continue the trail or back out of there until later in the day.

Though I expected to find the arrow laying in the leaves behind where he'd been standing, it was not there.
I moved directly (and very quietly) to a log that had been directly in his path. There I found first blood.
Bright red and lots of it, but no bubbles.

I'd take the blood trail a little further.

Within 20 yards the blood was constant and profuse. It was obvious that it was coming out both sides of the animal, but I had never doubted full penetration of the big head.

Soon I found the front 2/3's of the arrow and the trail increased dramatically. I knew now that I'd find the buck laying at it's end.

Now across the slough I was still slipping along quietly, pausing frequently to search the cover ahead while I walked along beside the blood trail... so I wouldn't get it all over my pants legs.

I found the bloody feathered section of arrow laying beside a log and paused for a second. There ahead of me in a slight depression was a patch of brown that was out of place.
Soon I could make out a leg coming off the brown patch and I knew my buck lay right there.

I stood for a moment saying a prayer of thanks and breathing in the day. My senses were taking in every sight, every sound, and every smell the woods had to offer.
Once again I knew the joy and pain of taking the life of one of these wonderful creatures. It is a gift from God and I never take that for granted.
 

[Ted Fry]

Charlie , your killing me , wish we were back hunting with Pete in Kampsville. Great story as usuall congrats on a great hunting season.

[bayoulongbowman]

wow if that doesnt give ya goose bumps, ur DEAD! way to go Charlie!  

[rabbitman]

Congrats Charlie on another fine deer....and leave Butch in Missouri when you head east.