So there I was, surrounded, and down to my last sandwich...

[Looper]

I went to bed last night thinking/hoping that today would be the day I've been waiting for all year. Before the season started, I committed to using my bow only for the entire season.  I've been tempted, but have held firm.  If I would have been using my rifle, I could have already had a full freezer. I did miss a chip shot the other day due to a blasted buckle, but so far, the only arrows I have loosed have been at bushytails, one very lucky coyote, and one not-so-lucky coyote.

Today was going to be a perfect day.  The weather was cold and clear, the wind was steady, and the leaves were still damp from the previous day's showers.  The rut is ramping up and I'm seeing more and more scrapes.  I set my alarm for 5:15am, made up some ham sandwiches for the long day ahead, and went to bed at 11.  I struggled to fall asleep, my mind racing with thoughts about finding the right spot to set up in the morning.

At 7:04 am, I woke up.  Dagnabit! I sprang out of bed, shook the dew off my lily, grabbed my gear and headed off to the river bottom. I admit I was a little frazzled. As I approached the property, I caught a glimpse of two does slipping across the road.  I opted to park in a different spot than I normally do, hoping that those does would hang around for a while.

As I was getting my gear on, I changed my mind about my stand location.  I decided to slip along an old road next to the river and setup at a great spot where that road empties out into a cut corn field.  There is a hard wood ridge behind me and deer seem to love this little spot.  My initial choice was within sight of where I park my truck.  It's a great spot, too, but I thought that with my truck being less than 150 yards away, deer would probably not hang around there.

Even though I got a really late start, I could tell it was going to be a spectacular day.  Squirrels were every where, as were the chipmunks.  I resisted the urge to bust a squirrel, knowing that if I did, I'd surely spook a deer.  About 75 yards away, I heard something big splashing across the river.  I never did see what it was, because there was about to be a major interruption.

[Killdeer]

Great writing!
This looks like a good'n!

Killdeer  

[rastaman]

i love a good story!  

[2fletch]

Did I miss something big?    

Finally got to use that graemlin.

[ron w]

It's to late for       But what the heck......

[Looper]

On the other side of the river is a large farming operation.  With all of the crops harvested, this time of year is normally quiet.  I was sitting there, watching the sun slowly melt the frost off the field in front of me, when I heard some splashing in the river, which was about 75 yards to my right.  It's not uncommon to catch deer coming from their property to mine, so positioned myself for a shot if the opportunity arose.

As I sat there, focusing all of my senses in the direction of the splashing, I hear, off in the distance, the metallic squeak of the leaf springs of a vehicle.  It was on the other side of the river, but was getting closer.

Soon enough, the truck slows to a stop directly across the river from me.  From the godawful wailing I hear, I can tell I'm about to witness the fury and intensity of a rabbit hunt, complete with a pack of raucous beagles and their hollering handlers.

My serene setting was no more. No deer in its right mind would be within a mile of that ruckus.  I was going to have to move, or call it a day.  There was no telling how long they would be at it.

I watched the beagles work for a few minutes and got a kick out of seeing the pups on what was apparently their first outing.  They didn't quite have the hang of it and were routinely getting disciplined by some of the older dogs.  It was funny seeing them trying to figure out their sounding barks.  One of them sounded like he was trying to yodel.

After getting my fill of the mornings entertainment, I thought I'd still hunt my way across the knoll behind me, as I made my way back to the other side of the property.  At the very least I should be able to get a couple of squirrels.

So, I packed up my stuff and heading slowly up the hill.

[Nuclear Longbow]

  This is sounding like a good one; Please don't tell us it was the butler with the lead pipe in the den.

[Pokerdaddy]

Hope he gets to the rest of the story soon, or I'll never get to bed tonight!  Can't wait for the next installment.

[Looper]

The knoll I was making my way through was clearcut some 20 odd years ago.  It is now a tangled mass of scrub pines, sweetgums, tulip poplar, and has patches of honeysuckle.  Oh, and briars. Big green ones. The kind that grab bowstrings, fletchings, sleeves, hats, gloves, pack straps, and any other thing one might be wearing.  They also are stellar tripping hazards.

Now I was the one making entirely too much noise. Those beagles had nothing on my racket-making. It was slow going, as you might imagine.  I did find some deer beds and a nice rub-line. I also found an apparently deaf squirrel.  

I first noticed him a scant 10 yards from me during one of my more noisy moments.  He may have been attracted to the creative cursing, or, more likely, confounded by my presence.  I'm quite certain no human being has been in his domain in the last 20 years. My surroundings were so thick, there was no way to draw a bow, much less shoot one.

As I finally made it to some more open landscape, I noticed my little furry friend was still close by. I think he was shadowing me, waiting for the right moment to pounce, so I thought I'd better defend myself.

As he sat on a little stump, pretending to gnaw an acorn, I slowly nocked an arrow.  He didn't move, but just glared at me out of the corner of his eye.  He was close, but it was going to be a tricky shot.   There were a lot of sticks and limbs and vines to maneuver an arrow through, but I was confident.  I pulled back and my Black Creek Banshee spoke.  She loosed a 600 grain Hammerheaded gt7595 pushed by 62# of fury right at his taunting mug.  At the last split second, he somehow picked up a stick and put in right in the way of my arrow. Crack! Rattle! An explosion of wood chips filled my view.  Where was the squirrel? Where was my arrow? Would I eat tonight?

[Killdeer]

Talk about a "chip shot!"

   

[highpoint forge]

Well written thus far.......

[medic77]

This is highly entertaining

[Benny Nganabbarru]

Oh, the suspense!  

[Looper]

Well, no, I wouldn't be eating treerat tonight.  This was one crafty squirrel. And he stole my arrow. And he mocked me. Little furry bastard. Pardon my French.

After that humiliating episode, I decided that I'd better make the best of the rest of the day and make my way down to location that I hadn't hunted yet and that would, hopefully, have been shielded from my antics.  I slowly worked my way down the hill, noting several good-sized rubs.  Another few yards and I found myself on the eastern side of the hill amongst a stand of mature white oaks.  The acorns were thick on the ground, but it didn't look like the deer were feeding on them, yet.  I think they will once the corn supply dwindles down.

From the hillside I could see a 25 acre corn field that runs adjacent to the river. I bet I've shot 20 deer out of that field over the last 30 years, and, in fact, it is the site of my first buck ever, when I was 10.

It was closing in on 11am, and I was getting hungry.  This seemed like as good off a spot as any to eat.  The wind was in my face, the sun was warm and I had an awesome view.  I set my pac seat against an oak and fished out a couple of ham sandwiches.  

From my vantage point I could see the roof of my truck, which was parked about 100 yards from me.  As I formulated my plan for the rest of the day, I glanced over to where I had originally intended to set up that morning, 250 yards from my present location.  A flash of white caught my eye.

[KellyG]

Hey where is the rest of the story. Man yall are killing me.          

[Looper]

I knew it! I knew I should have stuck to my plan! Doggone my indecisiveness!  Doggone my impulsivity! Doggone my sucky iPhone alarm!

Yep, you guessed it.  That white flash was a deer's tail. There were three, in fact, all hanging out in front of my natural blind, telling jokes, eating corn, pooping.

And there I was. Hanging out on a hill, devoid of deer, feeling sorry for myself, eating ham sandwiches, and, well, not pooping.  

I watched them for about 15 minutes. They made their way towards my vehicle, and, while they didn't run off at the sight of it, they did eye it suspiciously.  They proceeded to meander across 200 yards of plowed corn field toward the river and melted into the brush.  The lead doe looked mature and had a year old little spike buck in tow.  The last deer was an ancient looking old doe.  She had a head like a horse.  I suspect her teeth are all but gone, as she was starting to get that gaunt look.  Her hip bones and ribs were starting to show.  She'd be a fine trophy and I hope to take her before the coyotes do.

I now had a new plan.

[Reggie Catfish]

What's the new plan?

[Longbow Jake]

Dangit looper you keep leavin us hangin  

[Looper]

If past experience was any indication, these three deer would get a drink from the river, eat some acorns from the oaks on the bank and make their way back across the field and head up to a nearby ridge to bed down for a while.  I figured if I positioned myself correctly, played the wind right and was quiet enough, I might be able to catch them on the move.

I slowly made my way down the hillside and slipped quietly over to my vehicle. I shed a jacket and left my pac seat.  I then headed to the river.  I went in a big arc so as to remain unseen.  I made my past the site of a missed shot 2 days ago.  About 50 yards later, I reached the spot where the 3 deer had entered the brush.  I could hear them moving not far ahead of me. My view, and theirs, were obscured by a big, brushy bank.  The wind was in my favor.  

I slowly crept to a good ambush spot.  It was slow going and I could hear them crunching acorns a few feet away on the other side of the berm.  I was too close to try and hide myself, though.  I was nearly silent in the plowed earth, but my first footstep in the leaves of a pin oak was way too loud.

I was in no man's land now.  I was about 20 yards from the trail I figured they would take, but was basically out in the open. I was in a crouch and my thighs were burning mightily.  I needed to be more hidden.

I really was in a precarious spot.  If one of the deer stepped through that notch in the bank, she'd nail me for sure.  I just had to hide a little more.  Three steps would put me in a good place to kneel from and I be behind a little scrub oak.  

I began to employ the Asbell walk and ever so gently place my foot for the first step.  So far so good.  Now, to shift my weight forward ever so gently. Only 2 more steps.  The second was going to be tricky. Too many sticks.  I was going to have to either bend over and move them, or flick them away with my bow.  I chose to bend.

I bent at the knees and reached out to move the twigs.  I reached a touch too far.  I confess that I'm a little more top heavy than I used to be and not as limber.  Consequently, I toppled over and caught myself with my right arm.  Of course I ended up crunching the very twigs I was so delicately trying to displace.

Out of the corner of my eye I see some movement in the notch.  I slowly tilt my head and see that big old doe staring holes through me. Uh oh.  I absolutely had to move.  I was in an awkward position and my hip was starting to cramp.

That doe bobbed her head and made a couple of steps out toward the field.  The other doe stuck her head out a second later.  I had to move.  I slowly twisted my legs underneath me, but that was too much for the old gal.

She took off in high gear, flag a waving.  The second doe was hot on her heels for a few yards, but stopped to get a good look at me.  She blew at me for good measure.  The little buck took a different route.  He bypassed the notch and very nearly jumped on me.  I don't think he knew what I was and stopped several times while crossing the field to stare back at me.  They ending up running within a few feet of my truck.

Whew.  That really got the adrenaline pumping.  I stood up and collected myself.

[Huck]

Good story looper, now where's the rest of it?

Huck