A few gentlemen I know, and even hunt with on occasion in the fall always confide to me that they would love to hunt our elusive northern beasts in the snow and the cold. So, for those who want to know what it’s like to hunt the snowy north, I’ll bring you along as I stalk one of our lessor known trophy animal, and an old favorite.
The day began as most days do up here bitterly cold. Almost to cold to go out. Almost. After a hearty breakfast I ventured out, bow in hand to seek my quarry. Most men, when pursuing animals in deep snow hunt with beagles, but not I. I enjoy the challenge of hunting with my trusted English mastiff. Lacking a high prey drive, intelligence and motivation, the mastiff can a unique challenge to your hunt. They can also on occasion, prove quite useful.
The fresh snow was excellent for cutting tracks and it wasn’t long before I had located sign of my quarry. West, the footprints pointed west to a line of gracefull oaks. I pushed into the underbrush following the small tracks, my excitement building. He was by a log when I first saw him. Majestic in the bare branch filtered sunshine, a small snowflake glistening in his whiskers. Unlike the snowshoe hare, his coat does not become a fluffy white, but rather stays a beautiful light chocolate brown.
At first my hopes for a killing shot were dashed as he scampered behind the log, but before I could hang my head in sorrow he popped back out! There he was, creeping behind a small tag elder. I desperately fought to keep my heartbeat down as I readied for the shot. One more step! I only needed him to give me one more step so his vitals cleared the twig. My fingers ached to release the string as he pushed into a small clearing. I drew to anchor and relaxed my breathing..
As the beast brought his right leg forward, I focused on a tiny spot behind his shoulder- a hair perhaps and relaxed my fingers, sending fletched death towards the unsuspecting prey. At my close range my arrow flew like orange tinged lightning. The heavy snow parted and the frozen ground below caught my shaft with a satisfying “thump”. I lost sight of the crafty devil. Did I miss? My eyes watered as they frantically searched the snowy vastness of the forest for any sign of him. My ears strained, listening for any sound as my hands automatically found a fresh arrow and deftly placed it on the string anticipating another shot.
I pushed forward into the brush, eyes scanning, heart beating, excitement building until-there! Below a small branch I saw my trophy lying still. My judo tipped arrow must have glanced him, flipping his tiny body onto it’s final resting spot. I collected both my trophy and arrow, my heart bursting with joy!
As with all trophies felled by mans arrow, pictures never do the beast justice. As you can see by both the length of the tail and forefoot, the buck deer mouse is a trophy indeed!
As luck would have it, my hunt was destined to continue.
Behind my camp rests a small bird feeder. It is frequented by chick-a-dees, nuthatches and the occasional red squirrel. Today it was to be location of the start of my greatest single day red squirrel hunt of my life!
While admiring my mouse, I heard the unmistakable chittering of my old nemesis, the red squirrel coming from the bird feeder. I gleefully nocked an arrow and slipped around the camp. At first, I didn’t see him, but as I scanned the trees for any signs my eyes caught a dart of red running right at me!
The squirrel didn’t see me until he was 15 yards away. When he realized he was in the presence of death itself- he panicked! Had he pursued a path of escape to the left or right he may have reached the safety of the trees. Alas, he reversed course and scampered back from whence he came.
I drew and shot without thinking, the fletching gently kissing my cheek as my bow took my arrow from me, hurling it on it’s deadly mission. My arrow flew straight and true. I saw in almost slow motion as the shaft caught my quarry’s body in mid leap. I let a small chortle escape as my old nemesis pilled up near the feeder that had just recently nourished his body.
I had no time to savory the kill! Before I could even take a step towards the trophy I heard another squirrel’s call, this one was near my fire pit.
Even in the dead of winter I enjoy an outdoor fire. In fact I had just used the pit two days ago. As fate would have it, I had also thrown some the remnants of an mouse nest I discovered by my woodpile. The squirrel it seems, had discovered the old nest and was pilfering what he could from it.
I hesitated to approach the fire pit directly as I had no cover. Instead, I worked up behind a maple tree, hoping that the beast would not notice me. At 25 yards, I peeked around the tree. There he was, fully engaged in raiding the spent mouse nest and whatever seeds could be eaten.
His back was to me, I knew then it was now or never. I slowly stepped from behind the tree, fully exposing myself to the wily beast. I drew and released. As soon as the shaft was freed of the string I knew it was a good shot. I kept my form, not moving as death fell from the sky.
The arrow took him in mid body, and he tumbled into the fire pit. Again I smugly and silently praised my shooting abilities as I walked toward the fallen squirrel. Nature, sensing my arrogance had other plans. Like red lightning the squirrel shot out of the pit, grasping a large stone that lines the pit. Before I could nock another arrow the squirrel, mortality wounded but not caring began pulling himself to the cover of the nearby woods. Within a heartbeat I had nocked and drawn but the squirrel was spent. He rolled on his side, shuttered a last breath, and was still. I returned my shaft to its quiver.
After a moment, I returned to the bird feeder to collect my quarry. I wasn’t prepared to see another target. My mind was still relishing my recent fortune when yet another squirrel leapt from the bird feeder! He landed on a small branch to examine me. I froze, my bow was in my hand but I did not dare nock another shaft for fear of spooking the beast.
As if reading my mind the squirrel bolted from the tree, headed for the thick cover, hell bent on leaving death far behind him. It was then she stepped out of the forest. 200 pounds of moderate intensity with no desire to hunt whatsoever! The mastiff saw the squirrel. The squirrel saw the mastiff. The squirrel didn’t realize that the gigantic dog had no interest in it. In fact the dog in all likelihood had blundered into the hunt by accident, and only by fate’s grace had positioned herself to block the red devils escape.
Mastiffs don’t do anything quickly. If they did my hunt may well have been over. The great dog slowly plodded towards me, uncaring or unaware of the small red beastie between her and her master. The squirrel chose the human over the dog, and made several leaps towards me before deftly leaping into a white pine.
As the dog approached me (hoping for a treat no doubt) the squirrel positioned himself broadside on the cold bark of the tree. I found my hands automatically loading an arrow. I felt my arms ease the bow up and draw her back. My spot picked, the shaft was catapulted forward.
The squirrel was ripped from the safety of the tree by the well placed arrow, his body contorting as it was cast through the air. By the time the arrow and its target fell back to earth, the squirrel was spent, and I had yet another trophy. The mastiff, non pulsed by the shot, sat at my feet and yawned. Apparently she thought very little of squirrel hunting.
Topic: Snowy hunt, story and pics! (Read 3164 times)
