A
Anonymous
Guest
While Lil Brother and Sis went fishing Saturday, I was biding my time in the 'big woods' in the blind, waiting for that last-minute deer of the season to come down the well-worn trail. I also had my camera in case turkey or two happed by to thumb their noses at me.
It was a good day, with the wind light and variable and the creek running and bubbling about 40 yards from the blind. Son, I just laid back on two legs of the three legged chair, camera and bow at the ready, waitin' for anything to come my way.
The problem was, nothin' was comin' my way--just like on Lake Ouachita with Tom and Linda. I was enjoyin' it anyway. Sometimes a man just has to be in the solitude of the majestic woods to keep in touch with himself. Reading my Bible Trivia book from time to time seemed to passify me just fine.
I looked at my watch from time to time, watching the sun march across the sky. The early morning gave way to a whispy mid-day. And the mid-day slowly gave way to a late afternoon. The shadows were stretching ever so long from Bear Den mountain and I had all but given up. Usually this stand is a 'morning' stand, for the most part.
I didn't care how little I saw, I was gonna stay the course and not leave until dark-thirty. After all, once you are there it doesn't cost to actually STAY there. My baloney sandwich and root beer being long-ago consumed, I broke out Snickers bar and reopend my OJ and settled in for the stretch.
I kept the little Origo denatured alcohol heater goin' all day on "2." The scale goes to "5" but it would run you out of the blind in all but the coldest of days. Today was in the mid fifties and the little heater took the edge off right nicely.
I was admirin' the little birds and the occasional Polited woodpecker or chipmunk come by and do their thing, and keeping a careful eye on the well-worn deer trail running to the east of and north and south of the blind.
The day waned and the tree shadows were now gone completely, melting into Bear Den's imposing, engulging shadow. I knew there was not much time left in this beautiful day. So I was takin' it all in.
The blind was situated in a secluded little bottom, wedged between three good-sized hills with Bear Den to the immediate west (behind me). The draws were situated to where it made for a natural
'funnel' for all game to travel. So far it had paid off nicely for me. I had plenty of confidence in the area and even though it had been a rather uneventful day, I still knew it was the only game in town for this ole' boy because it was a rare day indeed that I didn't see at least a flock of turkeys or a deer.
Daylight was dwindling with each five minutes that went by. The wind had ceased to a dead calm and I could hear a turkey fly up from a quarter mile. I strained to look up the trail. Nothing. I looked at my bow sights and the fiber-optics were really doing well, even inside the super-dark Double Bull blind. However, I knew it was most nearly time to get around and pack for the trek out of the woods.
I looked again up toward the old 'hill' blind and then back down the creek. Nothin'.
I heard squirrels romping in the leaves and thought I might as well add another to the freezer. I nocked an arrow with a Judo point on it. "That ole fox squirrel, along with the two I have in the freezer already, will make good table fare for next week," I thought.
Then I had trouble coursing the critters. I kept hearing leaves rustling but could not tell the direction. And THEN I saw it-high on the mountain.
Coming down the 40 degree grade through the dimness of approaching twilight and a lace of slight fog, was a fine specimen of a deer materializing before me. I watched as he walked with a confident swagger at 200 yards, throwing his head up, testing the air. Down the mountain he came, approaching the freeway of all deer trails. "Son, get ready. Remember, pick a spot, pick a spot," I thought. I discarded the judo point arrow for one of the miniblaster-tipped 'business' arrows. I readied my bow. Yep, still good, legal shooting light-sights doin' well.
I watched him as he made his last few steps off the mountain and onto the trail, now at 100 yards. He had a good set of antlers--at least an eight-point, "Probably would go about 150-170," I thought. It certainly would be my best deer ever with gun OR bow. I noticed that he was marked strangely also. I'd not seen many bucks with a black back and shoulders. I watched him as he fed and watered in the creek. My heart was racing...the precusor to buck fever. (I get excited when the big boys come toward me)
He put his nose up, checking the wind once again, and again began feeding. "C'mon down the trail, son." I knew he couldn't see me, and I wasn't worried about him winding me since I was in the blind. All I had to do be quiet, have a pocket full of luck and wait him out.
I watched and waited for another five minutes as he fed around the same area. The light was abandoning me and I knew something had to give, and soon.
Then he made a choice to turn left, proceeding up the trail to the old 'hill' stand, instead of turning right and coming toward me.
Try as I may, I watched him walk midway up the hill of the 'hill' stand, sidling and walking with a confidence only the grandpaws had. He walked, easing into the oncoming darkness. I grunted at him as a last resort, but being out of the rut, he didn't really care.
It was his lucky day. Had he come my way and followed the trail he had traveled so many times, he would have come within 15 yards of the blind. I can smoke stuff at fifteen yards, folks!
But--it was MY lucky day as well. You see, I got to actually SEE the old monarch doing his own thing, being deep in his woods of solitude, all alone. And, he'll be around for another season--and then, maybe a 180-190 class buck next fall.
The ghost of the big woods had come and gone. But, hopefully, Lord willin' I'll be around for another season and maybe, just maybe, I'll see him again.
I sighed at the end of a thanksgiving prayer and packed up my goodies, folded up the blind and began the walk to the old van with a warm feeling and a thankful heart.
"Maybe I'll find his sheds this spring," I thought.
Thanks for comin' along, folks. <><
Arkie
It was a good day, with the wind light and variable and the creek running and bubbling about 40 yards from the blind. Son, I just laid back on two legs of the three legged chair, camera and bow at the ready, waitin' for anything to come my way.
The problem was, nothin' was comin' my way--just like on Lake Ouachita with Tom and Linda. I was enjoyin' it anyway. Sometimes a man just has to be in the solitude of the majestic woods to keep in touch with himself. Reading my Bible Trivia book from time to time seemed to passify me just fine.
I looked at my watch from time to time, watching the sun march across the sky. The early morning gave way to a whispy mid-day. And the mid-day slowly gave way to a late afternoon. The shadows were stretching ever so long from Bear Den mountain and I had all but given up. Usually this stand is a 'morning' stand, for the most part.
I didn't care how little I saw, I was gonna stay the course and not leave until dark-thirty. After all, once you are there it doesn't cost to actually STAY there. My baloney sandwich and root beer being long-ago consumed, I broke out Snickers bar and reopend my OJ and settled in for the stretch.
I kept the little Origo denatured alcohol heater goin' all day on "2." The scale goes to "5" but it would run you out of the blind in all but the coldest of days. Today was in the mid fifties and the little heater took the edge off right nicely.
I was admirin' the little birds and the occasional Polited woodpecker or chipmunk come by and do their thing, and keeping a careful eye on the well-worn deer trail running to the east of and north and south of the blind.
The day waned and the tree shadows were now gone completely, melting into Bear Den's imposing, engulging shadow. I knew there was not much time left in this beautiful day. So I was takin' it all in.
The blind was situated in a secluded little bottom, wedged between three good-sized hills with Bear Den to the immediate west (behind me). The draws were situated to where it made for a natural
'funnel' for all game to travel. So far it had paid off nicely for me. I had plenty of confidence in the area and even though it had been a rather uneventful day, I still knew it was the only game in town for this ole' boy because it was a rare day indeed that I didn't see at least a flock of turkeys or a deer.
Daylight was dwindling with each five minutes that went by. The wind had ceased to a dead calm and I could hear a turkey fly up from a quarter mile. I strained to look up the trail. Nothing. I looked at my bow sights and the fiber-optics were really doing well, even inside the super-dark Double Bull blind. However, I knew it was most nearly time to get around and pack for the trek out of the woods.
I looked again up toward the old 'hill' blind and then back down the creek. Nothin'.
I heard squirrels romping in the leaves and thought I might as well add another to the freezer. I nocked an arrow with a Judo point on it. "That ole fox squirrel, along with the two I have in the freezer already, will make good table fare for next week," I thought.
Then I had trouble coursing the critters. I kept hearing leaves rustling but could not tell the direction. And THEN I saw it-high on the mountain.
Coming down the 40 degree grade through the dimness of approaching twilight and a lace of slight fog, was a fine specimen of a deer materializing before me. I watched as he walked with a confident swagger at 200 yards, throwing his head up, testing the air. Down the mountain he came, approaching the freeway of all deer trails. "Son, get ready. Remember, pick a spot, pick a spot," I thought. I discarded the judo point arrow for one of the miniblaster-tipped 'business' arrows. I readied my bow. Yep, still good, legal shooting light-sights doin' well.
I watched him as he made his last few steps off the mountain and onto the trail, now at 100 yards. He had a good set of antlers--at least an eight-point, "Probably would go about 150-170," I thought. It certainly would be my best deer ever with gun OR bow. I noticed that he was marked strangely also. I'd not seen many bucks with a black back and shoulders. I watched him as he fed and watered in the creek. My heart was racing...the precusor to buck fever. (I get excited when the big boys come toward me)
He put his nose up, checking the wind once again, and again began feeding. "C'mon down the trail, son." I knew he couldn't see me, and I wasn't worried about him winding me since I was in the blind. All I had to do be quiet, have a pocket full of luck and wait him out.
I watched and waited for another five minutes as he fed around the same area. The light was abandoning me and I knew something had to give, and soon.
Then he made a choice to turn left, proceeding up the trail to the old 'hill' stand, instead of turning right and coming toward me.
Try as I may, I watched him walk midway up the hill of the 'hill' stand, sidling and walking with a confidence only the grandpaws had. He walked, easing into the oncoming darkness. I grunted at him as a last resort, but being out of the rut, he didn't really care.
It was his lucky day. Had he come my way and followed the trail he had traveled so many times, he would have come within 15 yards of the blind. I can smoke stuff at fifteen yards, folks!
But--it was MY lucky day as well. You see, I got to actually SEE the old monarch doing his own thing, being deep in his woods of solitude, all alone. And, he'll be around for another season--and then, maybe a 180-190 class buck next fall.
The ghost of the big woods had come and gone. But, hopefully, Lord willin' I'll be around for another season and maybe, just maybe, I'll see him again.
I sighed at the end of a thanksgiving prayer and packed up my goodies, folded up the blind and began the walk to the old van with a warm feeling and a thankful heart.
"Maybe I'll find his sheds this spring," I thought.
Thanks for comin' along, folks. <><
Arkie
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