Well, I’m back… again.

I went to NC for the Sep. 11 archery whitetail season opener with high hopes of at least getting a glimpse of this big boy. 

Some of you may remember that my brother sent me this photo earlier in August to get my blood up for the opener.  Allegedly, this deer was running around his property there in southeastern NC, and he’d been getting a lot of visits on the food plots.  The picture worked, and it was only a day later that I had airline tickets arranged and was working out with the Mathews to get ready.

The weather in September is always an issue, with heat, humidity, and the peak of the hurricane season.  The area had just seen a near miss from Hurricane Earl.  Another storm built and dissipated, but as the date of the hunt came closer, the eastern Atlantic suddenly cleared, as did the skies.  The moon would be a tiny sliver.  Conditions, in short, were ideal.

Of course, ideal conditions don’t necessarily translate into dead deer. 

On Saturday morning, we slipped into the darkness toward my tree stand.  My brother pointed out the trail and sent me on my way, as he headed over to his own stand.  I could see the dark shape of the hill where my stand was as I got closer, and then I heard it.  The “whoof” of breath and the crash of branches as at least a couple of deer blew out.  They’d been close, and if I had been up in that stand 30 minutes sooner (when I was supposed to), it would have been me with the advantage.

Oh well, there are more deer.

The sun rose slowly (it always rises too slowly and sets too fast), and with it the woods came alive.  Thank goodness for Thermacell, by the way, because without it I’d have been a sitting feast for the zillions of mosquitos that haunt the low lands.  I fired up the unit before I even hauled the bow up into the stand, which was a good call.  The little bastards were on me from the time I started up the climbing sticks, and I was glad when that invisible, scent-free cloud of protection drove them away.

After about an hour in the stand, a squirrel started chattering behind me.  Almost immediately, I heard a deer huffing and blowing in the same spot.  The barely riffling breeze had apparently drifted my scent through the brush, and the deer picked it right up.  Never mind that I was dressed ankle-to-throat in Scent-Lok, and had sprayed down liberally with one of the “scent killer” products (can’t recall which one).  True to my hypothesis, there’s nothing that can keep your scent out of the air, and this deer had me pegged.

I sat still and waited to hear what would happen next, but there wasn’t much.  The deer, once alerted, slipped off quietly and was gone. 

That’s OK. There are more deer.

The sun got higher, along with the temperature and humidity.  Squirrels and cardinals began to flit through the trees, and the sudden sounds of limbs and leaves kept me alert for a while.  Soon though, the lack of sleep started to take its toll (I’d come in on a red-eye flight the morning before, and the time-change from west coast to east kept me up late on Friday).  My head nodded, and I caught myself about to fall right out of the stand. 

Finally, I realized that if I stayed up in the tree I would nod off and fall.  I stood and considered packing up, but as I did I caught movement through the woods.  A big group of turkeys was working toward me.   I eased out the video camera and tried to get some footage.  As I zoomed and turned the Handi-cam, one of the jakes must have been closer than I thought and let out an alarm putt.  The whole group kicked it into gear and marched out of sight.

I scanned the brush where they’d been and saw movement.  A straggler?  I raised the Nikon Monarch-X binos to get a better look.  I’d thought a 10×42.5 bino would be pretty pointless in the close quarters and dense foliage of the NC lowlands, but the clear glass helped me pick out the red legs of a young whitetail.  I watched eagerly, in hopes that he’d wander in my direction, but the deer followed the trail the turkeys had blazed, and soon disappeared.

I sat back down for a bit, but the sleepiness came over me again.  It was time to go.  I lowered my bow and climbed down.  Less than ten yards down the trail, the brush ahead of me exploded with huffing and crashing hooves.  The deer had circled back, and was coming right in… until I walked into it.  I mentally kicked myself for leaving too soon, and kept kicking all the way back to the truck.

Oh well, there are more deer. 

I made it back to the truck just as it began to drizzle rain, which is a good thing since I hadn’t packed any rain gear. Scott came out of the woods a little later, and we rolled back to mom’s house for lunch.  At some point after lunch, I must have laid down.  The sleepless hours caught up with me and it was almost 4:00pm when I woke up.  I called Scott and we planned to rendezvous back at his barn in a half hour.  With sunset at around 8pm, that should get us in plenty early, before the deer started moving.

Mom had invited a bunch of friends over for bbq and drinks on Saturday evening.  She requested that we, “kill one quick and get home to the party,” so I figured this would be the night we’d both arrow deer and bloodtrail into the wee hours.  That’s how it often seems to happen with us anyway.  I was stoked. 

We hit the trail to the treestands right on time and I took the fork leading to my spot.  A red-brown shape caught my eye, just before it blasted off into a flurry of flagging white tail and flailing hooves.  The deer had been standing just down from my stand… probably heading to the corn and food plot on a path that would have brought it right into my shooting lane.  Dammit!

Oh well, there are more deer.

I nocked an arrow and eased the rest of the way to my stand without incident.  I climbed up, reset the Thermacell, and got myself comfortable for the wait.  I was still fairly confident that, even if the big boy didn’t show, I’d have a shot at something.  The place is lousy with deer.

The afternoon raced along like a frozen snail on a slick of Super Glue.  I was happy that the passing front had left behind a slight breath of a breeze, so at least I wasn’t soaked in sweat.  Still, it was hot. And while it was hot, it was still.  Even the squirrels were quiet.

A woodpecker beat up on a dead pine somewhere behind me.  Cicadas chirrupped.  An occasional oak leaf would let go and drift noisily to the ground, lighting in a perfect approximation of a deer’s footstep.

The sun had begun to dip in the west when I noticed a persistent sound in the catclaws and scrub oaks behind me.  I turned slowly, expecting to see the monarch of the woods slipping up into my shooting lane.  My heart jumped at the appearance of something moving… but slowed again as I realized that, if this were a deer, it was the tiniest deer in history. 

A young raccoon was creeping down the trail, coming in to gorge on the corn and forage my brother had so painstakingly cultivated for the deer.  I suppose that if I had several days to hunt, I might be sporting a new coonskin cap right now, but as it was, I was content to shoot a little video and watch the oblivious, masked critter act out his dinner ritual. 

After a bit, as the shadows got longer and the thickets darkened, the coon ambled off.  By now a small flock of cardinals was flitting around, picking at kernels of corn and making a ruckus around me.  Several young tree squirrels were racing through the tops of the oaks, giving me small heart attacks at the sound of their branch hopping antics.  The “witching hour” was on us, and I was in full predator mode.  My ears were tuned for the subtle sound of hooves on oak leaves, or antlers on low branches. 

After starting a dozen times at the birds and bushytails, I caught another sound.  It was a stealthy whisper of footpads, and I eased into a standing position to peer around the pine tree.  At first I couldn’t see anything, but then I spotted the dark, waddling shape of the little coon.  He was coming back along the same trail he’d used before.  Dang.

I started to sit back down when I realized that the sound was coming from a place a little further in the shadows.  I peered a little harder and caught my breath to see a young doe following the coon.  She wasn’t very big, maybe a big yearling or a two-year old.  I raised the bow as she stepped into an open spot, but then thought about whether I really wanted to shoot this small deer.  It was a momentary hesitation, but in the time it took to mentally smack myself in the head, she’d stepped back into the thicket.  We need to shoot does, big or small… not to mention the quality of the venison she’d provide.  She was coming toward me though, following the same trail the coon was on, so all I needed to do was be patient. 
The sun, already on the horizon, seemed to drop faster.  The dense, late-summer foliage meant it would be dark in the woods way before the sun was completely gone.  I started to worry about whether the doe would give me a shot before it got too dark.  I waited, impatiently, watching the shadows deepen perceptibly.  And still she stayed in the thick stuff.

Finally, she reached an open spot, and I eased the bow into position and came to full draw.  Her head emerged, along with most of her neck… part of a shoulder… I just needed one more step. My arm felt steady, the 20-yard pin floated in the center of my peep.  My index finger inched toward the trigger of my release. 

The coon, meanwhile, had found something he liked and stopped to eat, looking back over his shoulder from time to time at the approaching doe. She was watched him intently as well.  Suddenly, another coon arrived and faced off with the first.  There was a short scuffle, and the commotion sent the doe crashing back into the bush.  I eased the bowstring back down, cursing under my breath.

The coons didn’t really fight and went to respective corners.  Each seemed content to eat what they found, and things quieted down quickly.  I scanned the bushes, and was rewarded with the broadside silhouette of the deer about 25 yards out.  It was getting dark fast.  I drew again, and with the string at my anchor point I centered the sight on the shadowy form.  Every part of my mind and body wanted to touch that release and send that 100-grain Slik-Trick broadhead downrange. 

But somewhere in there was Reason, and Reason told me that there was a real good chance that the shot was obstructed by limbs and vines.  I pictured the spot as it had appeared in the daylight, and I remembered the abstract tangle that hung between my stand and the edge where the doe now stood.  If she was beyond that tangle, I’d never get an arrow through there cleanly.  If she was on my side of the tangle, it would be a chip shot.  In the shadows it was impossible to tell which side of the tangle she was on.  With shaking arms, I had to let the string down again. 

It was obvious the doe was trying to get out to eat, and if she’d step into the cleared shooting lane, I could take her easily at less than 20 yards.  There was still plenty of light in the open spots, but she wouldn’t come any closer to the coon.  Part of me regretted the decision not to shoot the little sucker the first time he came through. Part of me regretted hesitating when I first saw the doe.  Part of me wished the rest of me would shut up and focus.

I lost sight of the deer as she moved into a deeper patch of shadow, and I tried to will my ears to do what my eyes could not.  Where was she?  I scanned the edges of the clearing in vain, hoping to see her step out so I could finish this thing.  It got darker.  Then it got a little darker.  And then someone snuffed out the sun.

I glanced at the time and saw that there was, legally, still almost a half-hour of shooting time.  I looked throught the woods, and could see that the horse pasture was still pretty bright and clear.  In these trees, however, it was already night.  I’d have to hang it up. 

I sighed.

At the sound of the breath rushing out between my lips the doe, which had managed to slip around until she was almost directly under my tree stand,  practically blew up.  She huffed and puffed and tore out in blind panic through the catclaw briars and scrub oak, running like a bull elk without regard to obstacles or hazards.  For my part, I practically threw the bow out of the tree and ran the other way.  How the hell she got that close I’ll never know, but there she was… and there she went. 

Oh well, there are more deer.

This year marks the first time that North Carolina has permitted hunting on Sundays.  The regulation only pertains to bowhunting on private property for now, but that’s exactly what I was doing.  What this meant was that I would get one more chance, if I wanted it… and I wanted it.  I tried to reason it away.  I tried to convince myself that I’d had enough, and that one more day wouldn’t make that much of a difference.  I should hang out, spend time with mom and Kat before I had to fly back to CA.  I kept up a running argument through the evening as I visited with old friends, eating barbecue and drinking some excellent home brew.

But I lost the debate.  By the time the party was winding down and the guests had all left, I told Scott that I was up for one more go… he could pick me up at 0530.

Sunrise found me well situated in my tree stand, watching the same patch of woods.  We’d arrived on time, and so I was up in the tree way before daylight.  This was it, though.  I had until about 0930 to shoot my deer, or I had to be heading down.  There was packing to do, and some last-minute visiting.  I really didn’t want a repeat of 2008, when I’d shot my deer on the morning of my flight, and had to leave the trailing to my brother.  That’s the year the bear got my deer before we did… but at least I got the skull and antlers. 

I didn’t have a repeat of 2008.  At about 0800, something caught my attention and I turned to see a deer picking its way through the dry ditch that ran behind my stand.  I got up and got ready to shoot, but saw that this was a young buck.  He sported a pair of spikes about three or four inches long.  Shooting an immature doe is one thing, but I didn’t want to take down a young buck… especially not with the genetics my brother is starting to see on his place.  It’s hard to do a real management program on a small property, but he’s making it work.  I let the little guy walk.

The rest of the morning flew by, and before long, it was time to go. 

Oh well, there are more deer. 

Somewhere. 

This hunt was the first of the season where I’ll be carrying some new gear.  My friends over at Chevalier Advertising represent several great gear manufacturers, including Nikon, Thermacell, Winchester Ammunition, and Laser-Lyte.  I’ve been working with Jonathan Harling over there for a couple of years now to keep up to speed with Winchester’s lead-free ammo offerings, and they’ve always been really good about getting product out for me to review. I touched base with them earlier this summer, and asked about trying out some of their clients’ products for the 2010-2011 hunting season.  We sort of put together a package that I’ll be putting through the paces.

I mentioned the Nikon Monarch-X binoculars, but I was also using the Nikon Rifle Hunter 550 laser rangefinder on this hunt.  The rangefinder incorporates Nikon’s angle compensation technology. While the angle-compensation idea isn’t really new any more, I hadn’t had a chance to try it in the field, and I was looking forward to seeing how much difference it really made.  I’ve generally figured that for rifle hunting, a few yards difference in estimated range really isn’t critical (at reasonable distances).  However, for bowhunters, two or three yards can make a huge impact.  It was really educational to range from my stand, about 25 feet up, and see how much difference there was between actual distance and adjusted distance (average difference of about two or three yards).  I’ll be putting both the rangefinder and the Monarchs to work even more in the near future, as I turn my attention back to blacktails here in CA.

As I mentioned, I also had a Thermacell unit handy for this hunt.  I almost never set out on an early season hunt without a Thermacell, as I’ve been solidly sold on these devices ever since I first saw them.  It’s easily one of the finest gadgets to hit the hunting industry since the centerfire cartridge.  In the swampy, southeastern NC woods there’s simply not a spray made that will completely protect you from mosquito and sand gnat bites… especially not if you’re trying to avoid strong-scented stuff.  And if you’re not protected, then you’re not sitting still.  I doubt that even a Zen-master monk could keep from swatting or wiggling under the assault of these flying demons from hell. 

They’re not just great for hunting, either.  At the party at my mom’s place, I set one out on the front porch for all the smokers (it’s NC…everybody smokes), after hearing someone complain about the bugs.  In minutes, the sand gnats and skeeters disappeared. 

Anyway, more about this to come.  I’m still waiting for one of the Nikon riflescopes with the Ballistic Drop Compensator (BDC) reticule to arrive.  I don’t know if you remember, but I tried some of these at the 2010 SHOT Show, and was pretty impressed with the way they worked.  I wasn’t nuts about the idea of a tool that makes it easier to shoot at longer ranges, but honestly, folks are going to do it anyway.  If there’s a system like the BDC that helps them make better, cleaner shots, then I guess it can’t be all bad. 

Also, I’m already a fan of the Nosler E-Tip ammo, and I’ll be getting some more of it to send downrange too.  It’s all I shoot in my 30-06 anymore, and I’m looking forward to putting it through the .270 as well.  I’m also waiting for some of the new lead-free Ballistic Silvertip varmint bullets.  I expect to be reporting good things about those in the near future.

The 2010 season is already well underway, but I’m excited about the opportunity to take some of this new gear into the field, and share the experience with you readers.  The next several months should be busy, between my own hunts and guiding other hunters.  There will be lots of opportunities to put this gear through the paces. 

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