It's been real icy in my neck of the woods. Been that way for several days now. Pretty nasty stuff as weather goes.
Last night the weather guy said it was 35 degrees with 93% humidity... uncomfortable in anybody's book.
With cabin fever firmly clamped down on my grizzled old head, I finally decided enough was enough and headed out into the woods behind the house and took a stroll down by the lake.
With my favorite recurve, "Scarlett", tucked under my arm I made pretty good progress through the thickets of ice. Slightly warmer temps had melted the ice on the leaves underfoot, making for reasonably quiet walking.
My property is a small chunk of Missouri oak/hickory climax forest, with many more hickories than oaks.
I guess that has an impact on the deer numbers that could be here and with a poor acorn year in general I haven't seen the deer sign that I did last winter when I purchased the place.
There are, however, tons of gray and fox squirrels around as well as groundhogs (when the weather is warmer), the occasional fox, coyote or possum and down by the lake, beaver and muskrat.... I'm at war with the last two!
Coming down the hill through a tight little valley I spotted movement on the dam. Even through the screening ice covered limbs I could identify the critter as a racoon.
Their butts always seem to be well above the rest of them and they usually cast about for different scents that might lead them to a meal or mischief.
Their attacks on my home and outbuildings have put them on my "list" as well.
Besides! My huntin buddy Butch had told me not long ago that if I got the chance he'd like to have one to bake and I've got a grandson who'd love to have a genuine coonskin cap.
I moved slowly ahead until I was just off the end of the dam and tucked in behind a large hickory log. If the coon didn't pass directly in front of me, I'd try to coax him over with a lip squeak.
Well, that's exactly what happened. He dropped off the back side of the dam before he got in good shooting range and I let out a long drawn out sqeak by pressing my thumb and forefinger against my lips.
The masked varmints head appeared almost instantly.
I'm no longer surprised at the number of animals that will respond to this trick. The weather makes it hard for all critters to fill their bellies and I was capitalizing on that hunger.
At ten yards the little devil stopped to look over the suspicious lump behind the log.
Coons are quick to recognize a man when they see him and I wasted no time drawing the 65# bow to anchor.
It was one of those natural "touch and go" type shots that always seem to work for me. There was no doubt in my mind where the Snuffer tipped shaft would end up... and it did.
Skewered end to end, the coon barely made it 20 feet before collapsing in a heap.
One less garbage eater on the place.