I’ve got a raw face, cracked hands, a swollen ankle, and 4:00am would be sleeping in these days… It must be Missouri rifle season!
My grandfather taught me how to deer hunt when I was in high school. Back then I wasn’t really much of a fan of deer hunting at all. I felt (and said) that any idiot with a rifle could kill a buck, it was just a matter of luck. I’d wander around the family farm in Southern Missouri for a day or two and usually end up with an average or below average buck. Then I could go back to duck hunting…
This fall I’ll spend 5 times more days chasing deer than birds, at least. Over the past few years the drive to chase great bucks has taken over my schedule and my mind. Without question, the single most enjoyable pursuit for me is the swamp deer I chase during the Missouri rifle season. I sit high above a large flood plain overgrown with vegetation and watch the bucks come and go all day working does in the bedding cover. A great buck can appear in front of you at 100 yards and then put his head down and be gone into the high grass. It can be frustrating, but it’s never boring.
Saturday I sat with my back to the river:
Look familiar? This stand is a few yards from where I ran into the dirtball locals last year. I saw 20+ deer over the course of the day but only one no-doubter. He was 531 yards away and never in play.
This morning I was in the same general area. A shooting light I watched a good, heavy, base 8 with matching kickers chasing a doe all over the marsh. By the time there was enough light to shoot he was out of range. I had these two guys walk under the stand:
I had a close encounter with the half-buck from last year, or a deer with his identical genetic failings… but ultimately I didn’t see anything worth my tag… more to come, hopefully…
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