I love a good story.
The hunt that culminated this morning, actually began on Christmas Eve 2017.
Six years ago, I had done some December squirrel hunting and had come across some fantastic buck sign that hadn't been there earlier in the season. I hatched a plan while watching the weather on that rainy morning. The rain would blow out in the late afternoon and I figured deer that had hunkered down during the heavy rain would get on their feet that evening. I positioned myself downwind of a pine thicket that I knew deer like to bed in. Sure enough, right before dark, this old mountain buck came sneaking out of the thicket, headed down the valley to check his scrape line.
Confident in the way that plan came together, I went back a few days later and thoroughly scouted that thicket and the surrounding area. On the north end of the thicket, I found a nice stand of white oaks nestled between the pines and the beginnings of a laurel thicket. I dropped a pin on a potential stand sight and, being the end of the season, promptly forgot about it.
Fast forward to this year. In my neck of the woods, the rut is usually late November/early December. I've killed a pile of deer over the years on Thanksgiving day, especially on years when it falls later in the month. I had gone to a high mountain saddle last weekend and been disappointed in the lack of sign I found. All the good sign was down lower.
Acting on that info, I hunted down low all this week. Like that hunt six years ago, there was very good buck sign up and down this one particular branch. That triggered my memory and I got out my phone, and sure enough, there was the pin I dropped. I carried my stand in there Wednesday morning and hunted half a day. I heard grunting and chasing down in the creek bottom, but saw nothing from the stand. I hunted the creek bottom Wednesday afternoon and all day Thursday and only saw one doe the whole time. Figuring that most of that sign was nocturnal and the creek bottom was a low percentage area, I decided to go back up the ridge.
This morning, I hiked back up the ridge, circling the pine thicket so as not to spook any bedded deer, and once again climbed high into a tall, straight poplar to give me a commanding view of all I surveyed.
I was prepared to spend all day. I had the proper nourishment.
At 11:00, I heard a rustle behind me and I watched as 3 mature does and a yearling made their way out of the pine thicket and into the laurels. Hoping this would be the start to some midday movement, I stood in my stand and focused on the the pines.
At 11:30, I caught a flicker of movement 100 yards down the ridge below me. Finding it in my binoculars, I saw the unmistakable glint of sunlight on tines. Slowly, the head and shoulders of a buck materialized in front of me as he nosed his way down out of the pine thicket. Instead of cutting straight across, he angled down the mountain, giving me a quartering away shot. I put a bullet behind his last rib and punched a hole in his opposite shoulder. He kicked and sprinted across the open area into the laurels, but just before he got out of sight, I watched him stumble and fall.
Even though I watched him fall, I still like tracking them up! My favorite color of all the leaves in fall!
Just a big 6pt. It doesn't look like he ever grew brow tines. Not a giant, but a respectable deer. And I hunted him in the manner I enjoy most, just like Pap would have done.
This is a very special place to me. It's really one of the places I cut my teeth hunting with my Pap. The trail I walked every day this week is the same trail I followed in his footsteps so many years ago.
I spent a lot of my time this week reflecting on the memories I have of Pap and all the hunting trips we took together. Every time I step foot in those hills, I can feel him walking with me. I'm thankful I had him as a mentor and I strive to be the same to my children. I'm a blessed man. God has been so good to me.
The hunt that culminated this morning, actually began on Christmas Eve 2017.
Six years ago, I had done some December squirrel hunting and had come across some fantastic buck sign that hadn't been there earlier in the season. I hatched a plan while watching the weather on that rainy morning. The rain would blow out in the late afternoon and I figured deer that had hunkered down during the heavy rain would get on their feet that evening. I positioned myself downwind of a pine thicket that I knew deer like to bed in. Sure enough, right before dark, this old mountain buck came sneaking out of the thicket, headed down the valley to check his scrape line.
Confident in the way that plan came together, I went back a few days later and thoroughly scouted that thicket and the surrounding area. On the north end of the thicket, I found a nice stand of white oaks nestled between the pines and the beginnings of a laurel thicket. I dropped a pin on a potential stand sight and, being the end of the season, promptly forgot about it.
Fast forward to this year. In my neck of the woods, the rut is usually late November/early December. I've killed a pile of deer over the years on Thanksgiving day, especially on years when it falls later in the month. I had gone to a high mountain saddle last weekend and been disappointed in the lack of sign I found. All the good sign was down lower.
Acting on that info, I hunted down low all this week. Like that hunt six years ago, there was very good buck sign up and down this one particular branch. That triggered my memory and I got out my phone, and sure enough, there was the pin I dropped. I carried my stand in there Wednesday morning and hunted half a day. I heard grunting and chasing down in the creek bottom, but saw nothing from the stand. I hunted the creek bottom Wednesday afternoon and all day Thursday and only saw one doe the whole time. Figuring that most of that sign was nocturnal and the creek bottom was a low percentage area, I decided to go back up the ridge.
This morning, I hiked back up the ridge, circling the pine thicket so as not to spook any bedded deer, and once again climbed high into a tall, straight poplar to give me a commanding view of all I surveyed.
I was prepared to spend all day. I had the proper nourishment.
At 11:00, I heard a rustle behind me and I watched as 3 mature does and a yearling made their way out of the pine thicket and into the laurels. Hoping this would be the start to some midday movement, I stood in my stand and focused on the the pines.
At 11:30, I caught a flicker of movement 100 yards down the ridge below me. Finding it in my binoculars, I saw the unmistakable glint of sunlight on tines. Slowly, the head and shoulders of a buck materialized in front of me as he nosed his way down out of the pine thicket. Instead of cutting straight across, he angled down the mountain, giving me a quartering away shot. I put a bullet behind his last rib and punched a hole in his opposite shoulder. He kicked and sprinted across the open area into the laurels, but just before he got out of sight, I watched him stumble and fall.
Even though I watched him fall, I still like tracking them up! My favorite color of all the leaves in fall!
Just a big 6pt. It doesn't look like he ever grew brow tines. Not a giant, but a respectable deer. And I hunted him in the manner I enjoy most, just like Pap would have done.
This is a very special place to me. It's really one of the places I cut my teeth hunting with my Pap. The trail I walked every day this week is the same trail I followed in his footsteps so many years ago.
I spent a lot of my time this week reflecting on the memories I have of Pap and all the hunting trips we took together. Every time I step foot in those hills, I can feel him walking with me. I'm thankful I had him as a mentor and I strive to be the same to my children. I'm a blessed man. God has been so good to me.
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