Speckmisser
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- Mar 12, 2001
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Well, I've been sparing you all the tales of my unsuccessful deer hunts this season. Seems like the majority of my stories end with me sniffling and the bucks laughing.
So far, this season has shaped up to be no different at all.
As some know and others won't care, I have been priviledged to get permission to bowhunt at the ranch where I board my horses. For Bay Area hunters, this is like hitting the lottery... having a place to hunt where there are plenty of deer, and only a 20 minute drive from the house. So I suppose I should count my blessings.
Unfortunately, the deer on this property are inordinately endowed with intelligence, wile, and a pure mean streak. For example...
A couple of weeks before the A-zone archery season opener, I sat on horseback and watched two nice, mature bucks browsing in the lower pasture. They allowed me to ride within 100 yards before looking up, grinning little deer grins, and returning to their meal. "Aha," thinks I. "I'll have venison this year for sure!"
Every evening, I watched these bucks move from their beds to the fenceline. They would hop the fence in the same saddle, every time, then graze slowly across the pasture to the edge of the woods.
At last, the season opened and I had an opportunity to hunt. I made haste, and arrived at a finger of covers that would offer a grand shot at the bucks as they followed their daily route.
By the time it turned dark, nothing had moved.
Opportunities to return have been scarce, until the week before last I was able to slip out again. With bow in hand, and shiny new camo covering my smelly carcass, I slinked (slunk?) across the canyon, slipped into the low ground, and made my way to the well-worn deer trail. I stepped up onto a little knoll, to determine the best place to set up, and 100 yards away a nice 4x4 stood up to determine the best way to run.
I saw that he had bedded just below the top of a ridge, out in the open. All I needed to do was be in place to head him off before he got there next time.
Well, you can guess the outcome. I crept through the woods, doing my best James Fennimore Cooper Mohican sneak, until I was within a stone's throw (or a bowshot) of the spot where that big boy had bedded. Except, of course, he wasn't there. 50 yards away, on the top of another ridge, I spotted the flicker of an ear and slowly formed the silhouette of a buck's head locked onto my position. He stood slowly, snickered at me, and walked blatantly over the ridge to disappear.
Twice more I've tried to beat that buck at his game, and each time he moves his bed one ridge over from where I'd expected him. Then I finally had it pegged! Last week, I slipped out into the pasture. I crept across the low ground, snuck up behind a little juniper, and glassed. There, 200 yards away and oblivious, was my 4x4.... bedded on a hilltop as always, but looking in the other direction. All I had to do was slip down a draw to within 50 or 60 yards, then move up into some bushes and take a stand until he got up to graze.
I started to make my move. As I came around the edge of the draw, quiet as a mouse in a rubber room, I looked up. 40 yards away, a big forkie was staring at me. He didn't jump. He didn't snort and kick and leap away. He just melted. But apparently his melting was loud enough to alert the 4x4 as well. If I'd been sitting still instead of moving, by the way, that forkie would've walked right by me and I'd have venison and photos instead of sad stories.
OK, so no harm no foul. I'm back at it a few days later. I get out a little early, and glass carefully to make sure nothing is out in the canyon. Then I creep slowly along the trail. A flash of movement alerts me, and I see that big forkie coming up from a draw, grazing slowly but surely toward me. I slip behind a juniper, and as quietly as possible remove my quiver and binoculars to free myself up for the imminent shot.
Then I hear a sound I haven't heard since spring. "PUTT! PUTTTTT!"
From the other side of the juniper bush, a tom turkey is making quick tracks in the opposite direction, alerting everything else in the canyon that SOMETHING isn't right. I try to sit still for a while, but eventually rise up to glass. Of course, the forkie is gone and the canyon is devoid of anything but flies and tweetie birds.
Which brings us to Wednesday evening, and I again found myself gearing up on the hilltop, and thinking predatory thoughts.
The wind was perfect. As I slipped out onto the trail to cross the canyon, two small deer were grazing acorns. I passed within 40 yards, undetected, and slipped away without blowing cover. My confidence soared.
Just as I was about to break out of the canyon into the lower pasture, I spotted movement uphill from my position. A spike buck was scanning the trail, but apparently couldn't see me. After a moment or two, he moseyed along and I continued.
Finally, I was getting into the area I wanted to hunt. I had to cross an open space of about 100 yards. I glassed the edges carefully, looking for bedded deer. Nothing. I stepped out, and took about 10 steps before I spotted an odd shape in the grass about 75 yards out. Was that an ear?
I slowly brought up the binoculars. No, not an ear. .. it looked like a little sapling bush.
But was I sure? Yes.
I took a few more steps. The bush moved. Or did it? I glassed it again.
Just a bush. But those two leaves... they could be ears. And that long branch sticking up there, had I seen that before? And the other branch?
The 4x4 stood up then, putting flight to any doubts. Still, he didn't run or even trot. He just turned, dumped a load to let me know what he thought of my hunting skills, and walked stiffly over the ridge and into the woods.
So far, this season has shaped up to be no different at all.
As some know and others won't care, I have been priviledged to get permission to bowhunt at the ranch where I board my horses. For Bay Area hunters, this is like hitting the lottery... having a place to hunt where there are plenty of deer, and only a 20 minute drive from the house. So I suppose I should count my blessings.
Unfortunately, the deer on this property are inordinately endowed with intelligence, wile, and a pure mean streak. For example...
A couple of weeks before the A-zone archery season opener, I sat on horseback and watched two nice, mature bucks browsing in the lower pasture. They allowed me to ride within 100 yards before looking up, grinning little deer grins, and returning to their meal. "Aha," thinks I. "I'll have venison this year for sure!"
Every evening, I watched these bucks move from their beds to the fenceline. They would hop the fence in the same saddle, every time, then graze slowly across the pasture to the edge of the woods.
At last, the season opened and I had an opportunity to hunt. I made haste, and arrived at a finger of covers that would offer a grand shot at the bucks as they followed their daily route.
By the time it turned dark, nothing had moved.
Opportunities to return have been scarce, until the week before last I was able to slip out again. With bow in hand, and shiny new camo covering my smelly carcass, I slinked (slunk?) across the canyon, slipped into the low ground, and made my way to the well-worn deer trail. I stepped up onto a little knoll, to determine the best place to set up, and 100 yards away a nice 4x4 stood up to determine the best way to run.
I saw that he had bedded just below the top of a ridge, out in the open. All I needed to do was be in place to head him off before he got there next time.
Well, you can guess the outcome. I crept through the woods, doing my best James Fennimore Cooper Mohican sneak, until I was within a stone's throw (or a bowshot) of the spot where that big boy had bedded. Except, of course, he wasn't there. 50 yards away, on the top of another ridge, I spotted the flicker of an ear and slowly formed the silhouette of a buck's head locked onto my position. He stood slowly, snickered at me, and walked blatantly over the ridge to disappear.
Twice more I've tried to beat that buck at his game, and each time he moves his bed one ridge over from where I'd expected him. Then I finally had it pegged! Last week, I slipped out into the pasture. I crept across the low ground, snuck up behind a little juniper, and glassed. There, 200 yards away and oblivious, was my 4x4.... bedded on a hilltop as always, but looking in the other direction. All I had to do was slip down a draw to within 50 or 60 yards, then move up into some bushes and take a stand until he got up to graze.
I started to make my move. As I came around the edge of the draw, quiet as a mouse in a rubber room, I looked up. 40 yards away, a big forkie was staring at me. He didn't jump. He didn't snort and kick and leap away. He just melted. But apparently his melting was loud enough to alert the 4x4 as well. If I'd been sitting still instead of moving, by the way, that forkie would've walked right by me and I'd have venison and photos instead of sad stories.
OK, so no harm no foul. I'm back at it a few days later. I get out a little early, and glass carefully to make sure nothing is out in the canyon. Then I creep slowly along the trail. A flash of movement alerts me, and I see that big forkie coming up from a draw, grazing slowly but surely toward me. I slip behind a juniper, and as quietly as possible remove my quiver and binoculars to free myself up for the imminent shot.
Then I hear a sound I haven't heard since spring. "PUTT! PUTTTTT!"
From the other side of the juniper bush, a tom turkey is making quick tracks in the opposite direction, alerting everything else in the canyon that SOMETHING isn't right. I try to sit still for a while, but eventually rise up to glass. Of course, the forkie is gone and the canyon is devoid of anything but flies and tweetie birds.
Which brings us to Wednesday evening, and I again found myself gearing up on the hilltop, and thinking predatory thoughts.
The wind was perfect. As I slipped out onto the trail to cross the canyon, two small deer were grazing acorns. I passed within 40 yards, undetected, and slipped away without blowing cover. My confidence soared.
Just as I was about to break out of the canyon into the lower pasture, I spotted movement uphill from my position. A spike buck was scanning the trail, but apparently couldn't see me. After a moment or two, he moseyed along and I continued.
Finally, I was getting into the area I wanted to hunt. I had to cross an open space of about 100 yards. I glassed the edges carefully, looking for bedded deer. Nothing. I stepped out, and took about 10 steps before I spotted an odd shape in the grass about 75 yards out. Was that an ear?
I slowly brought up the binoculars. No, not an ear. .. it looked like a little sapling bush.
But was I sure? Yes.
I took a few more steps. The bush moved. Or did it? I glassed it again.
Just a bush. But those two leaves... they could be ears. And that long branch sticking up there, had I seen that before? And the other branch?
The 4x4 stood up then, putting flight to any doubts. Still, he didn't run or even trot. He just turned, dumped a load to let me know what he thought of my hunting skills, and walked stiffly over the ridge and into the woods.
