3000 words

Halloween Deer

The trick-or-treaters (a mob in the thousands that descend as vultures on Centre Hall to devour sweet and chocolate with god-awful speed) invaded on Thursday, October 30th this year, to avoid any conflict with all important Penn's Valley football scheduled, almost religiously, for Friday night. Good thing, too, as I got to go hunting Friday night.

Headed up to Treaster afte working on my colloquium presentation all day. Was a bit jittery from the pot and a half of coffee I'd drank during the day, but made my way out to the permanent stand around 4:00. It was a beautiful day. Blue sky, no clouds, a touch warmer than the past few days, and the last of the fall foliage hanging on for just a little while longer. I had a really good feeling about the evening - I knew something was going to happen. For some reason I kept picturing the hole a broadhead makes in hide.

Around 6:00 I saw some movement about 100yrds away at the corner of the thicket. I had brought my binoulars with me and glassing showed a small spike with brilliantly yellow antlers and a good size doe making their way down the trail. It was directly down-wind and I assumed this would end poorly, without a shot - me getting busted by my bad breath :)

Instead of walking directly down the trail, these two moved diagonally into the thicket - good from a wind direction perspective, but bad from a "oh shit, they're going to just walk away" perspective. I could see now there were at least four deer in the pack and I must have missed the first (or last) two - still unsure. As they were all headed further down into the thicket I decided they would just disappear if I didn't spark their curiousity. Whether it was the coffee, my undevoted attention to work, laziness, or stupidity, I'd forgotten a bunch of gear at home, including my bleat call. Instead, I turned my head the opposite direction (didn't want to yell right at them) and bleatted a couple times. I was happy to see it didn't immediately scare them off and even more happy when it looked like one of them was coming up to check the area out.

One doe peeled off from the group. She slowly made her way through the red maple saplings and briars stopping for minutes at a time to check the wind and listen for anything strange. One more bleat changed her mind when she turned back to join the others. As she reached the edge of the thicket I pulled up the bow, ready to draw. I don't think she saw me move, but that deer looked directly up at me right then. I held as still as I could for the whole 5 min she watched me. With the bow fully extended my arm slowly started to shake - I thought this was it - she's going to see me, or smell me, or stand here so long I won't be able to shoot. Thankfully, I was wrong.

Don't know if she gave up trying to figure out what I was or was turning around to join the others, but she took a couple steps to her right giving me a full broad-side view. I wasn't going to wait to watch her walk away so as soon as her eyes were behind a few leaves, still clinging to their branches, I drew. I knew she was further in the thicket than I had hoped when I envisioned the shot from my stand, but it was a perfect shot at just under 20yrds. I put the 20yrd pin on the top of her back, slowly let the bow drop until that point was just behind the shoulder and let the arrow fly. The arrow must have been deflected by a small branch or something, but it didn't hit where I had aimed. Instead, it clipped her directly in the back and she dropped immediately to the ground. I'd hit her in the spine and she had no movement in her hind quarters. She tried to get up and move, but found herself lodged against a tree. It didn't take long for the broadhead to cause enough bleeding for her to expire. I did throw another arrow at her to try putting her down for good, but she was even further into the thicket now and that arrow too was deflected, this time finding a solid maple sapling instead of the bread basket I'd aimed for. I waited about 15min before climbing down.

Again, whatever the reason, I didn't have any of my needed gear on me. No knife, no headlamp (it was quickly getting dark), and no tarp to put her on in the back of the 4runner. I headed back to the car and then home to get the gear. Long after dark I headed back into the woods and found her again, cleaned and brought her home.

Good to get a tag filled early. Makes the rest of archery relaxing. Allows me to focus on buck hunting. Allows me to watch deer more instead of searching for the first good shot. Looking forward to the last two weeks...

Toftrees Pheasants

Got back from DC today where Libby ran her marathon. She qualified for the Boston Marathon and ran at an amazing 8:20 mile pace. After heading to school, doing some work, and attending the always-exciting colloquium, I took the dogs out to Toftrees for a quick tromp. As they dogs had just spent 2 days in at Lyon's Kennels they were rowdy and raring to go. Unfortunately, although I had most of my gear loaded up, I'd forgotten any footwear besides the slip-on, "dress" shoes I'd worn to school. Not one to let such a minor matter get in my way, we headed out anyway figuring we'd just avoid wet and muddy spots...
A bird shot behind us fell within Porter's zone of awareness and was quickly retrieved - I had to bring it back to the party that had shot it and apologize for my dog's over zealousness and greed. Not unusual...
We parted and the dogs quickly got on some good scent - a running rooster. Porter was on it's tail and finally got the running bird up in the middle of some honeysuckle. One shot and the bird fell into the middle of the tangled vegetation. I could see Porter in there with the bird in his mouth unwilling yet to exit the protection offered by the bushes and relinquish his prize to me. I put T on heel and Porter quickly followed, bird in tow. A soft "give" got the bird from his mouth, although a good number of feathers remained. So funny to watch them get those out.
A long walk then, around the edge of the property, found us on the backside of "big ugly." Along one row the dogs got birdy and, after working for a while, pushed up a hen on the far side of a row of small aspens. I passed on the shot both because there was too much in my way and I'd hoped to fill the vest with two roosters today.
Another hen was busted up from along one of the water pipes; no point, no running, just bumped. Let that one fly, too.
As we approached big ugly, I sent the dogs into the cover on the right. I rounded the corner to the right and sent Porter, who had exited the cover, into one of the rows on my left. Hadn't heard T exit or move recently so I checked back to my right and caught glimpse of him on point. Headed into the cover. As I got close, two roosters flushed - one shot took down the one to my right. As I looked back toward T, I saw the second rooster falter...perhaps injured by another hunter? T was on it in a flash. Not wanting to get in trouble for having three birds, I called T off and retrieved the bird I'd just shot. I don't know what happened to that injured bird although it's likely T put it out of it's misery (if his summer groudhogs are any evidence). Too bad the game laws wouldn't allow for me to put that bird to use - I'm sure it will get "used," though, by some animal.
I've been enjoying the grouse woods (got one last week), but it was nice to be back at Toftrees and hear the cackle of roosters. And of course, walking back to the truck with tail feathers poking out the vest front is always nice.

First Bird '08

The heavy frost of the morning gave way to an unusually warm, blue-sky, fall day. Started the day on campus in colloquium, but left quickly afterwards and played hooky with Paul for the rest of the day. For his birthday I bought a 100 rounds of sporting clays at Warriors Mark Shooting Preserve. We headed down there with a couple shotguns and a pile of shells for the afternoon. I’d never shot a sporting clay course – 18 stations with throwers set at different angles, positions, and speeds. Pairs of clays are shot from each station in either following or report fashion – the former being two clays thrown in rapid succession, the latter, two clays thrown in sequence with the second clay thrown upon the report of the gun firing at the first clay. We each shot 100 rounds with varying success – many of the stations had clays flying at severe angles and speed and removed from the station a good 50 yards or more. It really made you think hard about the arc of your swing, the lead time, and overall form. Timing, too, was big from some of the very distant throwers. I think the final tally was 56 for Paul and 61 for me. Certainly a lot of room for improvement, but definitely something I hope to do again soon.

We took a quick drive around the preserve after talking with the owner for a bit. They have beautiful fields and some thick lowland areas for hunting. One guy was out hunting his lab – made me jealous. We also got a chance to watch a pair of hen pheasants feeding in one of the cut rows. You don’t get to see that much so we watched through the binoculars for a while before heading home.

On our way home, we stopped and peered into Spruce Creek along the Harpster property where Jimmy Carter fishes. Huge browns and rainbows dashed for cover under the bridge. As we pulled away, a Bald Eagle soared along the stream channel just overhead lit brilliantly by the afternoon sun.

At home I found wired dogs, crazy from a day being cooped up, and an urge to take the DeHaan out for a walk. I’d used the Remington all day at WM as shells are much easier to come by and cheaper than for the 16ga. Plus, seeing those pheasant gave me an itch for the flush of a bird. As light was fading, I quickly loaded up the dogs and headed up to Greens Valley for a quick hunt. We worked the pines just to the left of the side road – nothing – then headed up to the right of the side road gate. On the edge of the side hill thicket the dogs flushed a woodcock. It went fluttering up and off to my left as the gun rose and fired. I didn’t see it go down, but was pretty sure I’d made a good shot. “Dead bird” got the dogs going and quickly on the downed timberdoodle. First bird of the year. Tried to take some time with the dogs to enjoy the moment and get them riled up by our first kill. The dogs, however, needing no more encouragement, weren’t happy about a break in the action and although interested in the bird were more anxious to get going again. We circled through the thicket and worked the cover until dark – no more flushes here today. Maybe later this week…

Start of Archery

PA archery season opened this past weekend. The weather was looking great for the early season: cold and clear. Paul was able to get out for the morning so we had plans to meet at Colyer. Somehow, all the meteorologists got it wrong...big slug of rain coming down from about 5am to 10am, exactly when we were going to hunt. I'll hunt in a lot of weather, but 40 degree rain on the first day of archery aint it. Came home and did work for the day and headed back out in the afternoon. Sat in my permanent stand set up off of Thickhead Mtn road. Didn't see anything while it was light out, but jumped at least 5 on my walk out - they're there - it's just a matter of time.

Went out spotting with Paul last night. Saw 72 deer. Yes, 72. And only 4 descernable as bucks. But one of 'em was a goddamn bruiser. Biggest buck I've ever seen. As soon as we hit him with the light he turned around, tucked tail, lowered his head and just walked quickly out of the soybeans back into his bedroom: a nicely posted 5.7 acre piece of isolated woods in the middle of ag fields. I talked to the landowner today, but they are too sick of hunters causing damage and acting unsafely that they aren't allowing any hunting anymore. The woman said they had farmed there since 1960 and only posted it 2 years ago because of all the issues. Thanks a lot douchebag poachers and "hunters."

Took a walk this afternoon onto a piece of property that the County bought from Penn State a few years ago. Ran into a nice guy "Bill" who hunts it frequently. He was hesitant at first to talk, but ended up sharing with me some information about the property and surrounding areas good for hunting. After I left him I parked along the access road and took a walk. Beautiful fields, thick honeysuckle, rubus, and black walnut, and a stand of spruce; deer trails everywhere. Jumped 3 doe out of a finger of trees between two fields and got within 20yrds of one of them. Found a couple trees to sit in, but it seems to be one of the only places I've come across here where a blind would work well.

Today's retard encounter: I got back to my car to find a note saying "Private Property - your vehicle plate # has been reported to Township authorities" signed, Centre Region Rec and Parks Dept. I was confused at first, maybe someone thought I was walking on the other side of the road? Maybe this property is off limits (even though I knew it wasn't and they guy I'd just ran into said it wasn't)? Then I started thinking, why would the rec and parks department be putting notes on peoples' cars warning about private property? So on my way home I called them and asked. The response was "Oh, yeah, you can go ahead and ignore that note - our guy was confused." Hm. I kept the guy on the phone and he gave me some line about how the property was open to hunting (I didn't mention hunting, he did) and would remain so until they start "developing" the site. Developing, huh? When might that be? Well, a few years out, maybe two. I hung up and have been getting more and more pissed ever since. Who is this guy? He works for the County region; he gets paid with tax payer dollars; he doesn't like people hunting "his" "secret" spot?; he leaves threatening notes ("reported to the authorities!") on peoples' cars who might be infringing on "his" spot, which happens to be PUBLIC land, open to hunting. I don't think this is the end of this - I'm calling back tomorrow and getting a name.

I did get into the stand this evening though and saw 6 deer. Big ruckus in the woods in front of me around 6:15. 3 doe came running by - took a shot, but a running one with no luck. Shouldn't have done that...oh well. Shortly thereafter, I could see a doe sneaking through the brush 25/30yrds to my right; too thick for a shot. Another little one was another 10yrds beyond following mom. A 6th one must have seen me turn around in my stand and went bounding back the way she came. No good shots, but a good time for the second day. I could see deer like that all season and be happy.

A Perfect April Day

April 26 - opening day of turkey in PA. Paul and I met at prospectors at 4:00am and headed to weaver. Original plan was to stalk the monster bird at the nursery, but one of Paul's co-workers "claimed" the spot first. No way he shoots that bird - we'll get 'em later this season...

The morning started off with a long walk to the back of the weaver property, a little over a mile. Unfortunately, the property is bordered on all sides by private land and some jackass had driven his truck through the woods and parked it, literally, right on our spot - the exact spot where I'd shot a huge bird a few years ago. So Paul and I sat down about 150 yards away and decided to wait and hear how the morning started before changing positions. This genius in the truck proceeds to walk right toward us in the dark - we whistle at him and he changes direction, but sits down about 60 yards away, just inside the new exclosure. These guys are asking to be shot. We tried to relax and just see how things would go - it was too late to change position without screwing up that whole side of the property.

As light came the song birds started around 5:30 and were in full swing at 5:45. 6:00 came and brought with it the first gobble - it would be the first of many. There were at least three birds, just over the hill, inside the exclosure. For the next 40 minutes they must have gobbled 60 times. One would sound off and the others would gobble right behind him, four, five, six gobbles on top of each other. We thought something might materialize and sat still, guns ready and waited, listening to the horrible calling of the jackass down the hill. Two hens came over the hill, but the jakes wouldn't make the trip - they headed away from us and the gobbling stopped.

After sitting tight for a while we decided to move - a slow walk along the fence finally proved fruitful as we heard the same rally of gobbles from the back corner of the property - maybe 500 yards in front of us. We got as close as we could and set up along the fence. The birds were inside the fence and we had a nice knob between us so we set up paul's decoy on the fence line, I set up in the brush to call, and paul sat against a tree with his gun trained. We thought the birds (if they came) would come around the contour of the knob, but instead (yeah, they came) they ran right up over the top of the knob directly at us. I never saw them, but paul said the first bird crested the hill and stopped, the second bird came over the top and did a double-take at paul - one eye, two eye, "yep, that doesn't look good," and he bolted. Paul let two shots go in hopes of knocking one down, but to not avail; we watched as the two of them flew away. He was kicking himself a bit, but there was nothing else to do except watch them run away - fine decision. The only bad part was he didn't quite get the gun shouldered before firing and his bicep was killing him the rest of the day.

It was pretty late in the morning by now so we circled the property boundary for another 3/4 mile and found a nice ridge to take a nap on. Slept for 30 minutes or so until I found a couple ticks on me and got us back up moving. The plan was to stick to the property boundary and hit a couple known hang-outs on our way back to the truck. Coming up on the back of white pine corner a gobble halted us - 100yards. We dropped to the ground and donned the camo - that was close. After a quick discussion we decided I'd be the shooter - I crawled on my stomach up to a small ridge and slowly peeked over, gun leading. After only a second I saw a bird - big, dark body; bright red and blue head: A Gobbler, and a big one. He was headed to the right so in the quick moments as he was hidden behind trees and brush I readjusted and waited. A couple of those moves later I noticed the bird wasn't alone - there was another one, equally big, and closer, back to my left. I readjusted on this one, but he was headed right as well. Couple putts and some leaf scratching managed to turn him back left. They were moving closer, but they were nervous - maybe they had been screwed with earlier that day, or last season. The bird in my sights was staring hard at me - one move to the left and he would be in a clear line of sight. He moved left. And here's where my long day of fishing the day before screwed me - I'd forgotten my turkey choke. The modified choke in my barrel spread my 4 shot too thin - the bird was gone before I could even reload a shell. The other bird wasn't so lucky. I swung right and shot...missed, but lifted the bird into the air. Another pot shot did nothing to stop his flight. Fortunately, the bird was flying directly over Paul. He rose and unloaded, knocking that bird out of the air - DEAD BIRD!! Not pretty, but successful. And to think, if I'd had my proper choke, there would be two birds. Won't make that mistake again...

20lbs, 9.5" beard, 1 1/8" spurs. Real nice bird. Had some of it grilled up this evening at Pauls house while entertaining his boys. Can't wait to get back out during the week when all the bozos are sleeping and at work.

When I got home, Ben and I headed to Penns. We'd had some serious action on the stream the previous night and couldn't wait to repeat. We stopped in at feathered hook first to figure things out - turns out we had likely witnessed trout gorging themselves on rusty spinners (dead BWOs and Hendricksons). We spent a few bucks on flies and headed out. A long walk down from tunnel road and nymphed until about 5:30. I caught one and then took a nap in the sun on the bank...long day. Ben nymphed the whole afternoon and didn't catch squat - that is the worst. And I figured I'd make it worse by hooking a rising fish he'd been trying to catch on my first catch. Luckily I didn't land it.

We were stalling, trying to catch the few rising fish we could see and wait for the witching hour when the spinners would start...maybe 7? Maybe 7:15. We made it until about 6:15 when the gathering, black clouds finally made us decide to give up and head back to the car. About halfway back it hit - strong winds and a downpour; we were soaked. Great, though, to be in the woods and on the stream with Ben during a wild storm, drenched and happy. Dinner at the Red Horse topped off the day. Not bad to start off turkey season and spring trout :)