After freezing my rear end off yesterday in sub freezing temps and 30mph wind gusts, I knew I had left my climber in a really good spot. So I got up on this crisp, calm Thanksgiving morning to absolutely perfect conditions. Zero wind and 16 degrees with a heavy frost and leaves crunchy and frozen from yesterday's snow.
I had set my stand on the edge of a steep holler so I could see the flat top, criss-crossed with deer trails and dotted with rubs. I also wanted to see down the holler that had 3 or 4 good trails crossing the 30 yards of open woods between two laurel thickets. About 10 feet up my tree, I heard at least two deer trotting off of the flat top. I guess I disturbed their sleep. They weren't spooked too bad from the sound of it, so I climbed on up quietly and settled down. As my breath slowed, I realized what a perfect morning it was going to be. The sky was beginning to take that orange-blue hue that you can only see from on top of a mountain on a clear, cold November morning and the air was so still the clouds of vapor from my breath floated for several seconds before dissipating.
I took my grunt tube and made a couple of grunts that I knew would really carry on the still air. Almost immediately, I heard faint footsteps begin plodding towards me from the middle of the laurel thicket. It was so still and the leaves were so frozen, I'm sure I heard this deer coming from close to 200 yards away. The way the footsteps came in a slow, determined way, I positively knew it was a buck. As the footsteps neared, I had time to get a little excited. I had to slow my breathing down or I knew I'd fog up my scope. The deer eventually came to the edge of the thicket and stopped. I couldn't see it, but my ears told me where he was. I'm almost positive he stopped and rubbed a tree before he continued into the open. Once I saw his tall rack, I grunted again to stop him and my .270WSM A-Bolt put him down in his tracks.
I had already decided that if I could get a little meat today, it would bring an end to my deer season and I could devote a little time to other pursuits. In fact, I had prayed in my truck for just that. As I sat and listened to my rifle report echo off the mountains, I began to think back to all my previous Thanksgiving day hunts. Going all the way back 20 years or more, I've killed a ton of deer on Thanksgiving morning. As I pondered all those great memories, I began to hear footsteps behind me. Those deer that I had spooked as I climbed my tree were trying to come back and investigate. That proved to be a fatal mistake for one curious little doe. A shot to the brisket from the A-Bolt dropped her in her tracks as well. Except for the last 50 feet to the truck, it was a totally downhill drag for both deer and I was out of the woods before 8:00.
Once again, the Lord has blessed me more richly than I deserve. Happy Thanksgiving ya'll.
I had set my stand on the edge of a steep holler so I could see the flat top, criss-crossed with deer trails and dotted with rubs. I also wanted to see down the holler that had 3 or 4 good trails crossing the 30 yards of open woods between two laurel thickets. About 10 feet up my tree, I heard at least two deer trotting off of the flat top. I guess I disturbed their sleep. They weren't spooked too bad from the sound of it, so I climbed on up quietly and settled down. As my breath slowed, I realized what a perfect morning it was going to be. The sky was beginning to take that orange-blue hue that you can only see from on top of a mountain on a clear, cold November morning and the air was so still the clouds of vapor from my breath floated for several seconds before dissipating.
I took my grunt tube and made a couple of grunts that I knew would really carry on the still air. Almost immediately, I heard faint footsteps begin plodding towards me from the middle of the laurel thicket. It was so still and the leaves were so frozen, I'm sure I heard this deer coming from close to 200 yards away. The way the footsteps came in a slow, determined way, I positively knew it was a buck. As the footsteps neared, I had time to get a little excited. I had to slow my breathing down or I knew I'd fog up my scope. The deer eventually came to the edge of the thicket and stopped. I couldn't see it, but my ears told me where he was. I'm almost positive he stopped and rubbed a tree before he continued into the open. Once I saw his tall rack, I grunted again to stop him and my .270WSM A-Bolt put him down in his tracks.
I had already decided that if I could get a little meat today, it would bring an end to my deer season and I could devote a little time to other pursuits. In fact, I had prayed in my truck for just that. As I sat and listened to my rifle report echo off the mountains, I began to think back to all my previous Thanksgiving day hunts. Going all the way back 20 years or more, I've killed a ton of deer on Thanksgiving morning. As I pondered all those great memories, I began to hear footsteps behind me. Those deer that I had spooked as I climbed my tree were trying to come back and investigate. That proved to be a fatal mistake for one curious little doe. A shot to the brisket from the A-Bolt dropped her in her tracks as well. Except for the last 50 feet to the truck, it was a totally downhill drag for both deer and I was out of the woods before 8:00.
Once again, the Lord has blessed me more richly than I deserve. Happy Thanksgiving ya'll.
