GetOutside
FNG
- Joined
- Jan 4, 2014
- Messages
- 72
After hard at it for a decade and one blown opportunity a few years back, I finally harvested my first buck. When I first started hunting, I was nineteen, cramming books in college, trying to figure out what I wanted to do with a biology degree. About the same time I found my focus, environmental science, I also found QDM. Some may not see it or agree with it, but it made sense to me. The challenge of beating mature deer on their home turf was more exiting than taking out the first yearling that hit the food in the afternoon. Plus, the concept of doe management fit well into habitat restoration field. So for years I passed on a lot of young deer, does and bucks, taking a big doe most years and tag soup every year for a decade.
Three years ago, after two kids and months of hard thought, I jumped at the chance to land a jump with a large electrical company. Our income got a nice bump but my freetime really nose-dived. During my time at the park district I could hunt as work for deer management. It was a sweet gigged that was very hard to let go. Last year I sat three times, getting my doe on the first night. This year was about the same. My October was completely devoured by work, six 12s in a week on midnights and repeat. It was rough and I was spent. November couldn't come fast enough. I was finally able to move a stand on Nov 12 and sat the afternoon in peace and quiet. No pumps, engines or turbines, just songbirds and owls. Until sundown, then he shows up, the ten, hopping the fence and slowly heading in my direction. Stopping out at 35 yards behind a young bur oak, I can see his gears grinding, "which way to go today - to the scrape or to the field." The field won. I grunted to him at fifty but without a deer in sight, he threw the flag and slowly trotted off. I made note of my error, chalked it up to another lesson learned and headed home after dark.
This past Wednesday, I was able to get away from the house during some time off from work. It was a snap decision that got me out in the field a little later than usual. I typically like to be out and settled in the stand a couple hours before the golden hour. It gives me a chance to unwind and clear my mind before the deer are typically on their feet. It was a really nice afternoon with temps in the high twenties, a slight but steady breeze from the north and not a squirrel within earshot. Sunset was fast approaching at about 1630 and the owls had been hooting for sometime when glancing over my shoulder I noticed a young four pointer easing his way out of the woods and into the prairie grass. He browsed here and there for a few minutes before heading off time the tall stuff on his way to the cut cornfield. Within a few minutes, he was back but he looked stockier. Then his head moved and it was the ten pointer I had a good look at in November. Wouldn't you know it, he did the exact same thing he did the month before, behind the tree at 35 and freezes. His patience or uncertainty was much stronger this time. He sat in the same spot for at least five minutes, moving only his head, looking towards me and the cornfield over 300 yards away. With shooting light falling fast, I was worried he'd beat me again. Then he broke my way, walking around the oak, passed some blow down, through my path in and right to a scrape at ten yards. I figured he'd just scent check it but he worked it over good, cleaned it out and finished my urinating on his hocks. He cleared my last obstruction, stopped him at 8 yards, then tucked one right behind the leg, down through the heart and out the other armpit. The horse kick sealed the deal.
I found him that night right where I thought he fell at about 80 yards. In the morning I brought my son along to trail the blood and find the arrow. We had a blast! He wouldn't let me stop taking pictures. It was always "Ok let me take one of you, Dad" or "Now one more with just me!" I'll remember that day and deer forever. Its been quite a journey and from the looks of it, I'll be starting many more with my boy soon.
Three years ago, after two kids and months of hard thought, I jumped at the chance to land a jump with a large electrical company. Our income got a nice bump but my freetime really nose-dived. During my time at the park district I could hunt as work for deer management. It was a sweet gigged that was very hard to let go. Last year I sat three times, getting my doe on the first night. This year was about the same. My October was completely devoured by work, six 12s in a week on midnights and repeat. It was rough and I was spent. November couldn't come fast enough. I was finally able to move a stand on Nov 12 and sat the afternoon in peace and quiet. No pumps, engines or turbines, just songbirds and owls. Until sundown, then he shows up, the ten, hopping the fence and slowly heading in my direction. Stopping out at 35 yards behind a young bur oak, I can see his gears grinding, "which way to go today - to the scrape or to the field." The field won. I grunted to him at fifty but without a deer in sight, he threw the flag and slowly trotted off. I made note of my error, chalked it up to another lesson learned and headed home after dark.
This past Wednesday, I was able to get away from the house during some time off from work. It was a snap decision that got me out in the field a little later than usual. I typically like to be out and settled in the stand a couple hours before the golden hour. It gives me a chance to unwind and clear my mind before the deer are typically on their feet. It was a really nice afternoon with temps in the high twenties, a slight but steady breeze from the north and not a squirrel within earshot. Sunset was fast approaching at about 1630 and the owls had been hooting for sometime when glancing over my shoulder I noticed a young four pointer easing his way out of the woods and into the prairie grass. He browsed here and there for a few minutes before heading off time the tall stuff on his way to the cut cornfield. Within a few minutes, he was back but he looked stockier. Then his head moved and it was the ten pointer I had a good look at in November. Wouldn't you know it, he did the exact same thing he did the month before, behind the tree at 35 and freezes. His patience or uncertainty was much stronger this time. He sat in the same spot for at least five minutes, moving only his head, looking towards me and the cornfield over 300 yards away. With shooting light falling fast, I was worried he'd beat me again. Then he broke my way, walking around the oak, passed some blow down, through my path in and right to a scrape at ten yards. I figured he'd just scent check it but he worked it over good, cleaned it out and finished my urinating on his hocks. He cleared my last obstruction, stopped him at 8 yards, then tucked one right behind the leg, down through the heart and out the other armpit. The horse kick sealed the deal.
I found him that night right where I thought he fell at about 80 yards. In the morning I brought my son along to trail the blood and find the arrow. We had a blast! He wouldn't let me stop taking pictures. It was always "Ok let me take one of you, Dad" or "Now one more with just me!" I'll remember that day and deer forever. Its been quite a journey and from the looks of it, I'll be starting many more with my boy soon.
