Bowhunting Adventures - Mostly Archery with dustyvarmint

OCT 31

2011

First Fall Turkey

Posted by dustyvarmint

Good luck and a good friend result in my first fall turkey harvest – and the usual hunting hi-jinx that seems to accompany us.

A little later in the week after I took my first Kansas archery whitetail good friend Big Will departed leaving me on my own. I explored a new area he had turned me onto in the spring as I’d done quite a bit of virtual scouting over it using various maps and Google Earth. Not fifty yards from the truck I busted a flock of hen turkeys, I busted another flock just seventy-five yards from that one and that afternoon I busted and pushed another flock along in front of me as I set up my stand for the evening hunt. They were active all around during that hunt and a group eventually roosted just forty yards behind me. I was lucky enough to see them fly down the next morning. Then on the way out I busted the first group I’d run into the previous morning. Turkeys were everywhere, but they were a secondary quarry on that part of the trip.

Not so on the next part. I was off to see Kansas buddy “Dude” Brian. See No Bird Left Behind for another of our crazy spring turkey adventures. He basically taught me to turkey hunt. However, after spending the spring season with him I didn’t want to take up much of his time and hospitality on this fall trip so we arranged a one day outing. Up and raring to go, as usual, we settled into his new blind in an area good for both whitetails and turkeys. Previously he’d set his Primos Double Bull Dark Horse up inside an old abandoned hay shed in a remote part of the property he has access to. This summer he took things to an all new level. He built a seven-foot-by-seven-foot blind in one corner of the barn complete with sitting-shooting window, standing-shooting window and comfy lawn chairs. Holy smokes is that nice!

A Primos Double Bull in a barn.

We heard various turkey calls now and again. The action was slow, but the day was nice and I truly enjoy hunting with Dude. Despite the fact he shoots a Mathews (poke, poke) he is the reason I switched to NAP 2-Blade Bloodrunners. With four critters definitively down using them this year I’m extremely happy with the choice. Literally within a minute of sending a text to Mrs. dustyvarmint that it was a beautiful day, but slow, Dude told me to get ready. Now, despite my always trying to convince him to shoot first or at least toss a coin for the privilege he continues to insist that I shoot first – maybe someday I can twist his arm in the other direction.

Here I’ll digress and throw out another story of our hunting hi-jinx. In 2007 I joined Dude for my second turkey hunting season ever. We made an extra long sit that afternoon. Action didn’t start, though, until the insects started chirping and the air cooled down. Jake Deke was mounted on Jenny Deke and two toms coming from our left looked like they didn’t appreciate that. However, before the lead tom could arrive another group of toms and jakes decided to come from our right. Having taken my first tom a few days prior it was Dude’s turn to shoot. He selected a bird and let fly, but it didn’t go down and kept running from right to left, left to right. I decided a second arrow was in order so took a moving pot-shot, but missed. That group then departed the way it came.

My first tom from 2007.

We were sure the bird was terminally hit and began to relax and give it some time. However, I found that the birds to our left were still coming in and the lead one was mad as heck at Jake Deke. It was Dude’s turn to shoot again, but there was a problem – he’d dropped his T-handle release in the grass and couldn’t find it in the low light of the blind amid all our equipment. I got on all fours and began searching as the determined tom marched closer. No luck. Finally, I pulled off my old Winn Archery’s Free Flight wrist release and handed it to him out of desperation. He simply stuck his thumb through the hole, grasped it with his fingers, attached it to the string, pulled back and drilled the tom through the wing butts. It dropped in its tracks and steam actually floated out and up from the entrance wound. Later, unfortunately, despite our confidence, we did not find the first hit tom – a lesson learned in our bowhunting lives.

Dude’s 2007 “dropped release” tom.

Anyway, back to 2011. Dude was nice enough to give me the sitting-shooting window and the young hen turkeys assembled nicely in front of it – this was the fall and hens were legal. I picked a bird and drew, but experience told me to check the broadhead level compared to the window level. Not good and I couldn’t sit up tall enough to clear it or squat steadily enough to place a good shot. I moved to the standing window where Dude was, but as soon as my head appeared in it an alarm putt sounded and the flock went on alert – in the quick and unexpected appearance of the flock I’d forgotten to raise my black balaclava. Dude whispered to me that, “We had time,” and, “To take my time.”

I drew my Strother Infinity picked a broadside turkey, aimed carefully at what I thought was the wing butt and triggered the release. This is when everything went awry. The birds exploded. I did hear the unmistakable sound of a solid hit, but knew from experience it was not a guarantee on a turkey. Dude happened to be looking at the wrong turkey so he had no idea if I’d even hit one. I was trying to keep a close look out the shooting window (and unknowingly squishing Dude against the side of the blind) and when they started running to the east I moved to the sitting window to follow their progress. Dude had forgotten to keep his call in his mouth and was frantically trying to find it in order to stop them while at the same time trying to target another bird. Once he started yelping I started yelping and putting by voice only – possibly the world’s worst turkey calling, but over time I’ve found the call’s rhythm to be nearly important as the actual sound.

At the same time I was trying to grab another arrow to reload, but couldn’t find them or my quiver despite staring right at my bow. I was reduced to simply looking at my string and riser and trying to follow the turkeys’ progress when I noticed a brown sideways wing slowly settling to the ground a short 5-7 yards from my side of the blind. That had to be my bird. A wave of relief settled over me and then Dude gave me “five” as the adrenaline surged through us. Turns out the TightSpot quiver and my arrows had never left the bow – I was just too pumped with post-shot adrenaline to find them.

We settled in and began more earnest calling in an attempt bring them back, but it became fruitless. Giving the bird twenty minutes we then began the short retrieval. After taking pictures I told Dude about the quiver and arrows and my balaclava – he rolled on the ground laughing then we reminisced about the dropped release from our 2007 hunt. As we started to make our exit he spotted two more turkeys making their way to our location across a bean field. Dude got ready with the bow and call as I prepared the rangefinder. After quite a while the two very nice toms fed past us at about 52 yards. That was too far, but I was impressed that we withstood a piercing look from them in our direction with only a minimal amount of cover to hide us.

My 2011 Kansas fall turkey hen.

We returned to the blind that evening with a questionable and sometimes swirling wind that eventually settled in our favor. The turkeys never reappeared, but just minutes before last light a group of five antlerless deer came in including the “Marshmallow Doe.” Man, was she fat. Dude wanted me to take a shot, but due to the low light inside the blind I could either see the deer or see the pins while aiming; never both at the same time so there was no ethical shot. They did not want to leave even after we farted in their general directions and not wanting to be stuck in the blind all night (as we had red stag tenderloins waiting on us at the dinner table) Dude eventually snorted as a doe would do under alert and they left. He’d employed this technique in the past so was confident it wouldn’t permanently harm his future chances.

Once again Dude and I proved that despite continued experience we can have an excellent time while producing some memorable bowhunting adventures. I was lucky enough to take my first fall turkey and have a close encounter with another Kansas whitetail. My only regret is that I wish I could have seen Dude drill a critter (with his own release).

happy hunting, dv

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OCT 24

2011

First Kansas Archery Whitetail

Posted by dustyvarmint

Taking my first archery whitetail in my home state of Kansas.

Life sometimes seems to pass you by. Especially if you let it. Although born and raised in Kansas I didn’t grow up bowhunting or seriously pursuing deer. After becoming addicted to the sport in 1993 in Wisconsin I was lucky enough to make one late season trip back to Kansas in 1994. I missed a nice-bodied eight-pointer by shooting at him with my 20-yard pin when he was standing at 30 – oh, the days before digital range-finder popularity… I bought a lifetime Kansas hunting license back in 2006, or so, and five years later still hadn’t made another trip for whitetails. With the motivation of my good high-school friend Big Will I was determined not to let life continue to pass me by in 2011.

The adventure to Kansas was scheduled from the start as a DIY public land effort. Despite the overall small amount of public hunting land in Kansas there are still opportunities. Will had given me a glimpse of those during a one-day turkey outing this spring. On this public land we had managed to see numerous turkeys and a herd of deer in the morning and call in a tom to eight or nine yards (no shot opportunity) that same afternoon. I thought there was a lot of potential.

So, I set my sights for a five-day weekday hunt the second week of October. Weekday to keep public hunting pressure at bay and travel during the second weekend of October to avoid Wisconsin’s youth gun deer hunt where I have to wear orange and deal with more guns than normal in the woods if I bowhunt. The truck was loaded up with all the gear including three extra kitchen sinks – a decoy and calls for one friend and two cases of Wisconsin bottled soda for another – and off it went for the ten-and-one-half-hour drive that seems to get longer every time.

Our outstanding lodging.

We met at our lodging, a cabin in a state park (these cabins can be found through-out Kansas in state parks and I highly recommend them), and headed out almost immediately Sunday evening to set up stands. I was looking for what I call a jump-off point. Some place decent to start hunting right away, but from where I can branch out after the first morning’s hunt. Will had gathered some local intelligence from his friends and we ended up under a very nice canopy of what I believed to be burr oaks, a member of the white oak family. The acorns from these trees were the size of ping-pong balls. I and my brother, when he joined us, were very much hoping one didn’t fall upon our heads.

The acorns here were gigantic.

If you must drink and hunt – do it this way.

The next morning found me in my stand and Will in his blind – he decided stands were not to his liking. Luckily, the night’s rain had stopped just as we walked out the door. This happened twice during the trip and its noise deadening effect became a relished friend. Not long into the hunt I saw movement that was blocked to Will in his blind and it didn’t take long for a yearling buck to come right in. Although we were trying to get him his first archery whitetail Will passed on the shot. However, the little buck and his momma were very skittish toward the blind and when she gave the alarm he took the hint and followed. I was pretty happy with this start.

After the morning hunt I did my normal “speed scout” (Greg Miller term) routine in an attempt to locate more stands for the rest of the week. One site in particular showed heavy browsing on some form of plant, had a “pinch-point” on one end, an adjacent bedding area and possessed plenty of suitable trees. Additionally, I stumbled on a doe and two yearlings while scouting it. It looked like the evening hunt was set.

Whatever this plant is the deer seemed to like it. Can you identify it?

Will took up residence back in his blind and I put a Lone Wolf Alpha Assault in a decent tree using the same brand climbing sticks then settled in for a relaxing afternoon and evening. Over the course of the next three hours I had turkeys feeding by (out of range) and others roosting within sixty yards, fox squirrels partaking in the abundant acorn crop and crows roosting only thirty yards away. The crows were a new experience. As sunset approached I began to think this great stand location might not produce, but it was only my second hunt, after all, and I had plenty of days to go.

How or why I saw the doe approach I’m not sure. For the third time this year, see Rainy Day Doe, a deer approached me from behind. As I attempted to turn in her direction she spotted me, spun and took one step in the direction she’d come from. I drew my Strother Infinity, estimated the range at thirty yards, spent an extra long time placing the pin in the growing darkness, triggered the release and… sent an arrow into her spine. She dropped on the spot, but wasn’t done yet. A quick check with the Nikon Monarch 800 told me the correct range was 25 yards and a second arrow to the kill zone finished the job.

My first Kansas archery whitetail.

She appeared to be a full-grown doe with an abnormally large head for her already large body size. Big Will helped me with pictures, field dressing and the carrying of equipment. I did finally remember to use the shoulder length AI (artificial insemination) field dressing gloves that Mrs. dustyvarmint bought me as a gag after we saw and heckled Camp Pug acquaintance Rock using them several years ago. Don’t tell anyone, but I really like them and just bought a four pack – very clean and tidy. I also got to try out the Deer Sleigh’r and can report positively on it. A separate field test report will follow in the future. I’m proud to say the doe was donated to a local venison donation program that supplies the meat to those in need. I’d originally done this as another Kansas hunting buddy is a major local organizer of the program, but it turns out this locker was part of another organization. Oh, well, it all goes to a good cause.

The Deer Sleigh’r.

The following day I passed on another doe and then didn’t see more deer until Thursday morning; my last hunt. We were plagued by unusually hot temperatures, into the upper 70’s during the afternoons, and a full moon. As for timing and the temperature I tried to strike a balance between time of season and pressure in the public woods. We only saw one other hunter during the trip, so that turned out well. For moon phase, that’s a lesson learned. While at home I tend to hunt when I can and pay less attention to moon phase. On a trip out of state I definitely could have planned for a better moon. We did, however, put deer in front of Big Will and my brother who took time from his busy job to spend an evening bowhunt with us. What more we could ask for I certainly don’t know – life stopped passing me by – at least on the Kansas whitetail front.

happy hunting, dv

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OCT 03

2011

Rainy Day Doe

Posted by dustyvarmint

I’m lucky enough to start the season by taking a nice Wisconsin doe.

A good sign!

As I was sitting in my treestand thinking about writing this post I thought about those folks who say, “It’s just a doe.” Or those bowhunters who have the opportunity to hunt in spots where 4, 18 or even 28 does per year might be common for them to harvest. I’m definitely not a, “It’s just a doe,” bowhunter and I’ve never had access to property where I’m likely to even see 4 deer in a single season. My whitetail hunting takes place on one internally and externally heavily-pressured 80-acre piece of private property and a whole lot of property available to the public. This hunting is hard-scrabble – every deer I even see, doe or buck, is a treasure to me and those I harvest are even more so. So, on with the show…

Due to the good graces of Mrs. dustyvarmint I was able to spend 3 hours in Peanut Butter stand Friday, September 23^rd. Getting to hunt on a weeknight is rare for me and I relished the opportunity despite the rain that plagued the air from 5:30 to last light at 7:20. I felt my game camera told me that if I stayed on stand long enough I’d be rewarded with some deer. Amidst the rain I didn’t even see a squirrel that night. Still not discouraged I was determined to spend at least 5 hours on stand the next morning.

While it wasn’t raining the following morning it had rained so much through the night that the leaves let water fall as if it were. During the 5-hour sit I saw two ground squirrels and one very beautiful coal black grey squirrel. I’ve wanted a mounted black grey squirrel for a long time, see hunting buddy Seth’s here, but by the time I decided to take a shot it was too late. What to do next? Hunt East Meadow’s Ladder stand or the Island stand or…? At mid-day I’d check out Culvert Stand East and a new funnel I’d identified on satellite photos. Then a decision would have to be made.

I ended up on Culvert Stand East that afternoon; a little hidey-hole of public land between a marsh and private property I’d found by scrutinizing maps and satellite photos. Although it is public land and I’ve had to share it with crazy-antler-rattling-guy, twice, (rattling, seriously, on this small and heavily pressured public property?) and dust-mask-wearing-walking-with-a-cane-and-crossbow-as-crutches-guy, once, I typically get to hunt it as my own personal little property. And, I see a fair amount of deer here. I assume the deer are traveling from the bedding area of the marsh to the feeding pastures of the private land. As a matter of subterfuge for protecting my little secret I always park down the road a ways and walk into the piece.

It started raining almost immediately, but I was comfy against the tree’s trunk in my Lone Wolf Sit & Climb stand. The book “White Fang” on my I-pod kept my feeble mind entertained. Having settled in at 4:00 pm I saw movement to my right at about 5:20. Turns out it was a full-sized doe, but with her twisting in and out of the early season brush I wouldn’t attempt the 52 yard shot. She went on to my southeast and I wrote her off. Not too long later I caught a glimpse of her again and it turned out she had another full-sized companion with her – another doe that I’d never seen. One of them returned to the main east-west trail, then hit its “Y” and started heading straight to me.

One minute everything was slow and the next things were moving very quickly. Deer coming from this direction are coming to my back and it is impossible for me to get turned around without them seeing me. I’ve never had much luck letting deer pass underneath to intercept them on the other side. At about 3-4 yards from the tree she saw me, took two bounds away, stopped and looked directly at me. While she was bounding I was drawing the Strother Infinity. There was a vital window between her shoulder and a sizable tree. At 12-15 yards I knew I could make the shot – easily. With the 20-yard pin settled just below mid-body I triggered the Hot Shot Manufacturing Infinity sending an NAP 2-blade BloodRunner tipped Easton ACC on its way. The reward was that beautiful sound of a properly striking arrow. I knew the shot was good. She leapt off and on the second leap I thought I saw a fist-sized spot of blood forming on the entrance side.

The Hot Shot Manufacturing Infinity

With my eyes glued to her she ranged out and to the right, disappeared from sight and then I thought I heard the death kick, but wasn’t sure. Being careful to take good notes of her last known location I also set the chronograph on my watch. A minimum of 30 minutes would expire before the trail was taken up. Using my binoculars I tried to find the arrow in the ground cover without luck. I never can. I don’t know why I look. Upon sitting down I heard a noise below me and looked to see the other doe almost directly under the stand. She’d snuck up while I was otherwise engaged. Not needing to take a second doe I watched as she traipsed away, eventually hitting upon the other’s blood trail, and then taking off to the west.

I felt the shot was good, but with all this rain a second set of tracking eyes would be great. I texted Camp Pug hunting acquaintance “Rock” for help. He is a good, experienced, patient tracker – he agreed to help. While waiting for him I returned to the truck to get my trusty Forschner pare knife, a hook-blade knife, a rag and my new Deer Sleigh’r. I’ve used a cart here for an eight-pointer I’d taken in 2006 (verify), but the ground gets rough near the road and I wanted to dry out the new dragging tool. Curious, I looked for the arrow and found it rather quickly, entirely soaked in blood, but left it in place for Rock and I to inspect as we took up the trail. The stand was also left in place with a bright tracking ribbon attached so it could be used as a reference point from far away.

This whitetail buck was taken just a few hundred yards from where the rainy day doe was taken.

When Rock arrived we took up the trail. Large fist-sized splotches of blood were found immediately. The rainy woods were interrupted with the words, “here,” “here,” and “here,” as we progressed and pointed out the next splotch. Rock noted that it was apparent she was bleeding from both sides. The amount was very heavy and frothy at some points. I couldn’t believe she kept going. At about the 70 yard point she cut right and as I surveyed the area I could see her body a few yards away. Bleeding from both the wound and her mouth she laid on her side.

Knowing how important photos are for me, see Trophy Photo Tips, Rock takes patience and does a great job helping me arrange the animal and pose. Multi-flora rose is always an inconvenience, but this time it was downright harmful to me while clearing ground cover for the photo. I sliced two fingers open quite severely with the pinky so bad that I wasn’t sure who was bleeding worse; the doe or me. After pictures I rolled her over and did the field dressing. Since I’d left the Deer Sleigh’r at the beginning of the trail Rock produced his drag rope and we were off. I looked at my watch – 1 hour and 24 minutes had expired since the arrow had left the Infinity. Waiting time had expired, tracking, pictures and field-dressing were done. That was pretty good.

One happy bowhunter! (note: this is not “just” a doe)

Back at Camp Pug I inspected the broadhead’s entrance and exit. The NAP 2-blade BloodRunner had severed 2.5 ribs going in and one rib going out. The exit rib looked like it had been center-punched by the broadhead’s tip. While field dressing I noticed the broadhead had pierced the center of the left lung, but while slicing and dicing the vitals for removal I couldn’t tell what damage there was to the right. Having also used it for my Wisconsin spring turkey (link) with excellent results (for me, not the turkey) I’m pretty darned happy with the broadhead thus far, but seeing how its performs on a buck will be nice.

For once, the plan came together. A combination of sticking out the rain, scouting and stand selection, and luck, always luck. It’s a doe. Not “just” a doe, but a doe from public land that required determination and hard-scrabble effort that I’m very happy to have harvested.

happy hunting, dv

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JUL 04

2011

Into the Sunny Black

Posted by dustyvarmint

By Jerry Long, July 4, 2011

A tale of the sun and my first outfitted hunt in pursuit of the feral hog.

My dream of pursuing swinely varmints, unfenced, had persisted for at least eleven years. It was 2004 and the time had come. I sat in a ladder stand facing west with the already crested sun shining down upon me. This was my first outfitted hunt, ever, in pursuit of a feral hog. The air was uncomfortably warm for a mid-west whitetail hunter and the sandy soil, cactus and saw palmetto in central Florida’s country-side were new sights for me in the field.

I kept vigilant watch spying antlerless deer off to the southwest, an armadillo and some Osceola turkeys. I’d never seen an armadillo while hunting. Although the outfitter encouraged us to shoot them I didn’t want to risk spooking any hogs. The Osceolas were a first for me also, but were off limits at the time. A golden colored piglet, all alone and no larger than a football, boldly crept towards the timed feeder. A large bird of prey flew overhead causing the young one to hunker down in a basketball-sized hole. He stayed there for quite some time and provided a respite from the boredom that can accompany long sits in the stand. I must say he might have fit nicely in a crockpot for a handy two-person meal.

Having never hunted around a feeder it scared the daylights out of me when it went off later; just as they still do on the rare occasion I’m hunting around one. It was afternoon, but the sun was creeping into the evening. Still no hogs. The sun crept lower until it was dusk. Beaming at me from an almost level position, bright and golden, it made keeping watch difficult. Still no hogs. The sun went down, but a bright yellow still radiated at the horizon.

There was movement to my right. Two black hogs noiselessly slipped under the bottom strand of a barbed-wire cattle fence and quickly covered a few feet to the feeder. I wasn’t expecting nimble, silent hogs. I don’t know what my realistic expectation was, but that wasn’t it. Expert limboing hogs were not it. I sincerely desired a large black representative of the species. Both were sleek black and about 2/3rds the size of full-grown domestic pigs. I couldn’t see any tusks, but the curly tails and floppy ears were cute which made me happy. Yeah, I said cute and have no reservations about harvesting something so described. The golden orb on the horizon had sunk lower casting short black shadows in my direction.

I locked eyes on the larger of the hogs a short fifteen yards away. I’d asked for lots of advice before the trip and was looking for a broadside or quartering away shot with the facing leg forward. Focused on the corn they paid no attention to me. When the large hog was broadside I silently drew my old Hoyt Spectra Fast Flite round wheel compound loaded with 100 grain Magnus Stinger tipped aluminum arrows. At least eleven years old this thing was smokin’ them down range at 187 fps. Through the top of my peep I saw the shadows had grown longer and were creeping ever closer to us.

The hog stepped forward with his left, facing leg. I tucked the pin in tight, low and triggered the release. It appeared to be a perfect hit. The hogs stampeded west then north following a two-track towards another hunter’s stand and out of sight. The arrow was buried in the ground where it had exited the hog. Then, surprisingly, both hogs came back onto the two-track and stood where it turned from south to east. Time ticked along slowly as it does when an arrow has been loosed towards a critter. One hog faced east as if he was looking into the golden brilliance streaming up and out from horizon. The long black shadows surrounded us all. He swayed that beautiful sway of a fatally hit animal and then went down – fading into the sunny black.

happy hunting, dv

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APR 25

2011

Turkey of the Dead

Posted by dustyvarmint

By Jerry Long, April 25, 2011

This week I share the story of recently taking my first Wisconsin turkey.

Note: In keeping with dvMA’s goal of helping you avoid making the same mistakes I’ve made over time I like to record the nitty-gritty details. Like forgetting my release. I’d like to hear what you have to say on this matter. Would you rather read a succinct story or experience the details?

Would this Wisconsin turkey season be just like the last four? It was mid-April in the 30’s. The wind was howling. I’d dedicated another day of vacation to take more advantage of the 5-day season (Wisconsin has six five-day seasons) and Outdoor’s Buddy Seth had sacrificed the greater portion of his season to help me, once again, attempt to take my first Wisconsin turkey with a bow (bow, of course).

I’d wanted to return to the scene of the crime where Jake Mobile bit the dust in BowDekeTastrophe last year, but wet, impassable roads prevented it. Instead, we were sitting in my Double-Bull Darkhorse blind at a “T” intersection of two logging trails. I’d seen turkeys roost not 75 yards to the west in the past and we’d seen them in this very intersection before. We imagined we’d heard a gobble somewhere, but it probably was just that – imagination.

Once it seemed hopeless we packed up and attempted to slow-and-bow to an open area where we expected them to be given the wind conditions. No luck. We scouted another logging road intersection where I’d seen strut zones before. No luck. Not even any sign. It was looking like this year would, indeed, be similar to past years.

Seth made one comment that would prove, as usual, fateful, “We could drive around and see if we spot some.” To which I replied, “I don’t like driving around.” My feeling is that “hunters” sometimes confuse the actual act of hunting with driving around looking for things. Seth knows I get a little stodgy on technique. On a trip to South Dakota for turkeys I balked at sitting on the ranch’s drive-way even though the turkeys crossed there – I got a shot although it was botched. And, I balked at trying to chase them down. In retrospect, given the situation, an untraditional spot and stalk for turkeys was probably the right method to use and one hunter in our party did so successfully.

We scouted out a few known locations and locations I’d wanted to try out before. We still didn’t see any turkeys. So, we re-grouped with the other lucky first-period turkey hunters at The Brothers’ Cottage. Everyone compared notes on the morning’s activity – nothing, but wind. The weather was so bad we didn’t even use The Brothers’ hot tub. They traded a shotgun for it. How cool is that? A hot tub is definitely better than a shotgun. I started to think as far out of the box as my feeble mind would allow. Grabbing the plat book, the DeLorme Wisconsin Atlas and Gazetteer and some overhead photos from Google Earth I began pouring over everything. I became determined to explore a very large piece of public ground to the north.

I’d never been in that area before, but I knew Seth had a little knowledge of it. Our first stop was fun, but, other than one turkey track, didn’t produce anything more than a lot of questions about where we could legally hunt. Approaching from a different angle we found an information board that answered our question – we could hunt everywhere. Grand! We finally saw our first turkeys of the day, all hens, and that brightened our spirits. Not knowing how to exactly approach either group we decided to let them go for now and return if no better prospects popped up in case a gobbler was in the area also.

When we got to a point where Seth really knew where he was at he wanted to show me a graveyard. This very old graveyard is uniquely contained inside the hunting area. Wouldn’t you know it? On the way there we spotted two gobblers with one strutting. Disembarking quickly (that’ll come back to haunt me) and simultaneously developing a plan we began to put it in motion. We’d make a sixty yard sneak through a marsh, set up on the other side and then make an attempt at calling them in. I had my Lacrosse Alpha Burlys on so I wasn’t worried about the marsh water, but for Seth’s sake in shorter leather boots we stuck to the twelve inch depth. Slowly and quietly I watched every footfall as we stalked through the marsh. Three-quarters of the way through we placed my best decoy, the Flambeau Fair Lady, on the edge of the marsh with the intent of grabbing the gobblers’ attention as they transited past the blind. Once on the other side we quietly put up the blind right over our gear and got ready.

Flambeau’s Fair Lady

That’s the point I realized I’d left my Hot Shot Infinity release in my bow case. So, with no other option I trekked back through the marsh to the truck, retrieved the release and trekked back through the marsh feeling rather low. After making a decision not to put out decoys here as it was too risky for being seen we started throwing some sounds out with factory calls and a dustyvarmint woodworks amber glass over glass pot call made from Osage orange and played with a holly striker. I don’t know how long it was before Seth grabbed my arm and said turkeys were coming directly to us from the opposite side of an evergreen tree and one was a gobbler. Then there were two hens. And then another gobbler. I got ready to shoot.

The first gobbler skirted into the side of the marsh heading towards Fair Lady. The two hens and the other gobbler continued on a path towards us. One hen advanced fairly closely and the tom followed. He cleared the evergreen tree and approached the hen. As he did I drew. I’d ranged the tree at eighteen yards. He paused. I acquired a sight picture and sent a New Archery Products 2-blade BloodRunner with a 2 1/16” cut in his direction with my Strother Infinity. The hit was solid, but lower than I liked. In reality it was probably about 22 yards in distance as he was on the other side of the tree. Seth said the arrow flew up in the air and landed a short distance away.

The hit tom did a double-hop or two and seemed unaffected. The hens seemed unphased. The other tom was checking out Fair Lady and offering perfect shots at 25 yards. Unfortunately, we only had one tag. The wounded tom plopped down at about thirty yards near a tree and stayed there while the other three turkeys slowly ambled off to the west. My Kansas bowhunting buddy Crazy Brew, who has bowhunted a pile of turkeys, has a formula for turkey success; 2 1/16” cut BloodRunners and a two hour wait. Since Ol’ Tom was still alive and in sight I planned to put the second half of that formula in action.

The vigil began. I took up my reading, as I normally do during down time in the blind. Then the turkey popped up, weebled a bit, moved 3-5 yards to the east and then plopped back down in sight. For the next one hour and fifty minutes he would get up and move to the east, although not very ably, about three-to-five yards every twenty minutes. There was no more reading. We simply watched him intently through binos and rangefinders. At about that time he moved a short distance, but we could no longer see him. After considerable discussion it was decided I would creep from the blind and belly crawl slowly and carefully towards his location to put eyes on him.

I found what I believed to be him fairly quickly and called Seth up to keep his eyes on him while I continued to creep forward. At about that point the turkey flew four-to-five feet straight up into the air in a frenzy of wing-flapping, fell straight back down and was still about twenty yards away. I righted myself, began a slow, silent creep in his direction with bow at the ready. Three small twig-trees blocked a second shot. By the time I was within three feet he seemed quite dead and I was able to safely retrieve him.

Two-and-one-sixteenth inch cut BloodRunners plus a two hour wait equaled success. We would later learn that the broadhead dislocated the right leg, deflected up through the right breast, cut the breast bone in half, traveled through the left breast and exited above the right wing. I did not inspect the chest cavity to see what was hit inside.

To say I was elated after five years is an understatement. Crazy might have been more accurate. I gave Seth a heartfelt “five”. Then I was trying to clean up gear, admire the turkey’s beauty, get pictures before dark, pack the truck, take down the blind, carry things to the truck and everything else at once. Seth reminded me we had two hours before dark and I could just bring the truck to the gear. So I did while he packed everything up and we took the pictures. Seth said he’d read my blogs on trophy photo taking and he did a really excellent job. What a difference a partner makes.

A very, very happy dustyvarmint poses with his first Wisconsin turkey; 1 1/8” spurs, 9 ½” beard and 21 pounds.

After that all was packed and we finished our drive to the cemetery and checked it out. Very, very cool, but I’d bet very, very creepy after dark. Graves dated back to the late 1800’s with some occupants only having lived a few days.

A grave stone dated 1851-1895.

A grave stone dated 1887-1890.

So, this year did turn out differently than previous years. It brought the end to a five-year quest for a Wisconsin turkey and not just for me. Upon arriving back at The Brother’s Cottage we learned that Camp Pug hunting acquaintance, Rock, also took his first bowhunted Wisconsin turkey the same day after a very similar 5-6 year pursuit. Thanks goodness. And Seth was right; maybe we could drive around and see if we spot some turkeys.

happy hunting, dv

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JAN 04

2011

dv’s 2010 Bowhunting Year In Review

Posted by dustyvarmint

By Jerry Long, January 3, 2011

I take a look at my bowhunting successes and failures of 2010.

February and Winter Bowfishing

Seth poses with carp from our Valentine’s Day adventure.

After a couple years of information gathering outdoors buddy Seth and I finally got out for a winter bowfishing session, see The Best Valentine’s Day Ever – Winter Bowfishing.

April Brought BowDekeTastrophe

Shady Lady was unharmed during BowDekeTastrophe. Jake Mobile wasn’t so lucky.

An extremely short turkey season turned even shorter when something went awry during an in-the-blind practice draw. Jake mobile got an arrow in the head and Seth and I learned to restring a compound bow using woodworking clamps.

May’s Running Goal Failure

Ron and I before I dropped out at the 13.1 mile point.

Despite 18 weeks and over 430 miles of preparation I failed to accomplish my goal of completing a marathon in 2010. Just two weeks prior I’d completed a 22 mile practice run, only 4.2 miles short of a full marathon, but an unseasonably warm day put the smack down on me at the 13.1 mile point.

June Brought a Physical Challenge Win and a Proper Celebration of My 41^st Birthday

I navigate some straw bales during the CYO 5K Challenge and crawl through mud for Warrior Dash.

At 40 years old I won, not just my age group, but overall, the local CYO Band 5K Challenge, read about it here, which combined a 5K run with obstacles. Also, I celebrated my 41^st birthday by participating in the Midwest running of Warrior Dash, The Craziest Frickin’ Day Of Your Life. Warrior Dash combines a 5K run with obstacles, mud (lots of mud) and fire. I took twelfth in my age group of 258 participants on that day’s running.

August Took Me to Africa

Beginning my South African adventure with Dries Visser Safaris.

After a year’s worth of planning, preparation and anticipation I finally boarded the plane for South Africa. The trip was a bowhunter’s dream and that of a life time. See my detailed daily journals here.

September, October and November Brought Whitetail Season and Success

I make up for a tough 2009 Wisconsin whitetail season.

I saw more whitetails while hunting in Wisconsin this year than any other year, ever. And after 2009’s dismal whitetail season I was grateful for it. Hunting on some new private proper in southeast Wisconsin that is open to the public via drawing I was fortunate to take a doe, see Beating the 2009 Whitetail Bust, and a buck, see dv’s 2010 Wisconsin Whitetail Buck. In early October I was also lucky enough to spend some time in a hunting blind with my brother, Terry, in our native Kansas. Although we didn’t harvest any animals it was a successful hunt for many reasons.

Late December Brings Vapor Trail Archery

I was lucky enough to be chosen for my first Pro(motional) Staff opportunity with Vapor Trail Archery. I’ve used and relied on their strings and cables for many, many years. They are products I believe in and I’m extremely happy to be on their Pro Staff.

2010 Running Summary

Maggie is in the lead on a weekend run. She’s always in the lead…

My I-pod Nano in conjunction with Nike+ tells me I ran 773 miles in 2010 burning 79,476 calories. That was an average of 3 times per week with an average 15 miles for each of those weeks.

Well, those are the highlights from 2010. I hope your bowhunting year went well and 2011 is even better.

happy hunting, dv

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DEC 27

2010

Super Slam Bowhunter Gary Martin – WY Pronghorn and NV Desert Bighorn Sheep

Posted by dustyvarmint

By Jerry Long, December 27, 2010

After completing his quest for the North American 29 earlier this year, Super Slam Bowhunter and friend Gary Martin takes a Wyoming pronghorn and makes good on nineteen years of applying for a Nevada Desert Bighorn Sheep tag .

Wyoming Pronghorn
Gary took this Wyoming pronghorn at seventy yards using a 70-pound Strother Archery Infinity and 100-grain Muzzy broadheads while visiting friend Dirk Edgeington near Riverton, Wyoming.

Gary with his 2010 Wyoming pronghorn.

Nevada Desert Bighorn Sheep
Talk about keeping the faith. Gary called me on a recent Sunday evening to share the harvest of this awesome animal. He applied for nineteen years (longer than I have been bowhunting) to obtain a Nevada Desert Bighorn Sheep tag. He was excited just telling me about the tag, but since I haven’t succumbed to “sheep fever” yet I’m afraid I wasn’t the perfect audience. He used a Strother Infinity set at thirty inches draw length and seventy pounds to make good on the tag. As you can tell from his words below, he was more than a little excited at the harvest.

Gary said, “My feet still aren’t touching the ground!!! After nineteen years of applying I was blessed to kill a nice Desert Bighorn Sheep in Nevada with my Strother Infinity on November 30th, 2010! The bases are 15 1/8″ and the lengths are 32 2/8″. Final score should come in around 165-166″. Very symmetrical! I shot him on the fifth day of the hunt; second stalk of the day. The first stalk we got winded. One shot at 38 yards with my Strother’s bow and he was down. My bow came through for me again. I really like these bows!!! We saw many sheep with lots of good rams. Nevada is doing a great job with their sheep management program!! What a Bowgasm!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thanks again Strother Archery!!”

The ram was taken with Nevada High Ridge Outfitters, Keith Montes and Gary Coleman. Gary also thanks Muzzy broadheads and rests, Vital Gear sights and friend Dirk Edgeington for joining and helping him on the hunt.

Gary and friend, Dirk, pose with Gary’s nineteen year quest – a Nevada Desert Bighorn Sheep.

happy hunting, dv

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DEC 13

2010

dv’s 2010 Wisconsin Whitetail Buck

Posted by dustyvarmint

By Jerry Long, December 13, 2010

As plans sometimes go, my four-day Wisconsin whitetail weekend hunt went astray. At least it was for the good this time.

Hopefully a good sign.

Here was the plan; load up the truck with everything I needed to hunt whitetails for the eleventh (Veteran’s Day) through the fourteenth of November, 2010. Prime time to take advantage of the rut. I’d start on some private property open to public hunting via drawing in southeastern Wisconsin on Thursday morning, travel during mid-day to hunt a “honey-hole” on public property in central Wisconsin for the evening and then make the final drive to Camp Pug for hunting the next three days between its private property and the surrounding county forests.

As usual, the truck was overflowing with gear and I was excited. The plan was to get up and get going at 3:45 a.m. for the hour drive to the first property and the long walk in, but I couldn’t sleep and something kept telling me to get going. So, I was up at 3:00 and out the door. This turned out to be a good decision as we’ll see in a bit.

Once there I strapped on the Lone Wolf Alpha Assault with four Lone Wolf climbing sticks attached to a military surplus MOLLE load-carrying rig for easy transport, see Packing It In and Out – Treestands, and grabbed my Bowtech SWAT. Despite the light from my Energizer LED headlamp, see my review of the Energizer Trailfinder 3 LED Headlight here, I managed to stumble through the same clear cut, hazardously littered with remnants of cedar trees, that I stumbled through last time and swore I’d avoid. As I crossed down into a harvested bean field I saw headlights on a hill to the south that I knew to be private property. I supposed it to be someone hunting there. It was a blazing forty-nine degrees and I was sweating profusely from the half-mile walk by the time I crossed the cat tails and then the marsh grass. I’ve only made the conversion to rubber boots, Lacrosse Alpha Burley 1500s, this year and they sure came in handy for this last little bit of walk.

I set up on a high spot in a marsh overlooking a bedding area in the same tree I’d used the morning I took a doe on a nearby property, see Beating the 2009 Whitetail Bust. Once settled I enjoyed daylight slowly creeping in and took great satisfaction that the wind was steady from the south. That was good for this stand. My only regret was that the tree stood between me and the rising sun as it warms both my spirits and my bones. Geese honked from the north east in the same marsh and I wondered what Outdoors Buddy Seth, a water fowler, was up to.

At about 7:00 a gray ghost noiselessly crept out of the woods from the southwest and into the marsh. At first I couldn’t tell if it was a buck or a doe. Then I saw antler; one antler. The other appeared to be broken off. My mind was reeling. The buck was heading in my direction. Do I attempt to take the him? Will I settle for a one-antlered deer? I have the next three days to hunt. Rock and Hunt Master aren’t seeing a lot of deer at Camp Pug. The buck is cautiously ambling closer. Will I run into pressure at the public property honey hole and again at Camp Pug’s surrounding county forests? I decide – I will take the buck if given the opportunity.

As I feared he is on a path that presents only a quartering-to shot until he passes my tree and then I’m not sure I can shoot around the tree. I won’t take a quartering-to shot. He stops and assesses the situation, then moves forward. He’s nearly at the base of the tree. He stops and his sixth sense kicks in. He turns his head to the left and looks up at me. I’m motionless except the blinking of my eyes. We’re no more than eight yards apart. When I’m this close I try not to look in a deer’s eyes. He doesn’t like the situation, turns and heads off the trail to the southeast. I draw. He sees and makes a couple of quick bounds and stops about 18 yards out. Bushes block the kill zone. I am helpless. He starts to move forward and I bleat a nasally, “gnaahhhhnt.” He stops and the kill zone is open. Pin and peep are aligned and I send a 2216 Easton aluminum arrow tipped with a four-blade, 100-grain Magnus Stinger on its way.

There had been no opportunity for ranging. I assumed he was between twenty and twenty-five yards. The yellow and green fletching appear to make a perfect trajectory and then he is gone through the marsh brush. I hear crashing and then no more noise. I believe he is down, but I don’t know. I mentally mark the location of the shot and the last direction I heard noise then settle down for the thirty minute wait. Five to ten minutes later I hear more noise to my south and southwest. Believing it to be something moving I grunt with a dustyvarmint woodworks grunt tube. Nothing shows.

A dustyvarmint woodworks grunt call.

I was sure the shot was a pass through. Attempts to locate the arrow with my Nikon Monarch ATB 8×42 binoculars were unsuccessful. At the thirty minute point I’m going crazy. I packed up and climbed down, taking stand and sticks with me. After removing my extra layers I slowly walked to the impact location. My arrow was there, covered in the right color blood from tip to nock. That was a good start. The blood was scant and I went slowly, marking the few spots with bits of toilet paper. Just then I heard a noise behind me.

There was another hunter walking the same trail the deer had taken. I thought it safest to hail him as he did not see me squatted down in the brush. He asked me to join him to avoid damage to the blood trail. We conversed and I learned he had been the one driving in from the south. He had permission to access the property from the private property. His stand was approximately fifty yards away in the hardwoods. The deer had passed nearly right underneath him and he had heard me bleat and shoot. I gratefully accepted his offer allowing me to drag the deer up the hill and access that property with my truck vice dragging all the way back to the north. I did have my deer cart (this time), but the drag through the marsh would be difficult to say the least. We parted ways and I continued the track.

In flight the buck had gone over a four foot woven fence and under a top strand of barbed-wire. There was one fist-size spot of blood on the other side (I ripped my ASAT trousers going over) where I assumed he had body-checked the ground fairly hard. Then, there was no more blood. Period. That feeling was in the pit of my stomach… There were three likely directions so I began going down each one until I found a fresh track in the mud. That trail took me to an opening and there he lay in a pool of blood.

At the end of a tough blood trail – a deer.

I looked to the clouds and raised my bow in the air triumphantly, but silently and respectfully for the fallen animal. I snapped some phone pics to share with friends, called Mrs. dustyvarmint to ask what her weekend plans were, marked the location with a long piece of toilet paper and began the trek back to the truck. After getting things arranged I cautiously drove onto the southern private property, got my bearings and then found the deer.

Always curious I inspect the organs to see where the broadhead went and what it hit. The shot had hit mid-body on the left side at the back of the ribcage, angled down through the bottom of both lungs and the top of the heart and then exited behind the front leg. The chest cavity was completely full of blood. Possibly the fat between the chest cavity and leg had blocked the blood from leaking out? After field dressing and picture taking the real work began. The deer cart was worthless in the marsh. I couldn’t scale the woven fence at full height with deer in tow, but thought I could get over a lower broken down section. No luck.

My 2010 WI whitetail buck – everyday bowhunter success.

More dragging out of my way and a lift over an even shorter section of fence. Finally, out of the marsh. I thanked my stars for staying in shape. The hardwood leaves made for a much easier drag and then I was to the perfectly raked trail the other hunter had made to his stand. That was fairly easy going. Then up the hill and to the truck. Thankfully, friend Gary Martin called to discuss the Archery Trade Association convention which gave me a break. Finally, a big lift over another fence and then into the overloaded truck and I was on my way thanks to the other hunter.

My carefully laid plans were changed. I notified Hunt Master that I wouldn’t be coming to Camp Pug and they were on their own for Saturday’s dinner. I had a deer to cut up. I wasn’t complaining, just sharing. It was Veteran’s Day, the first day of a four-day weekend and I’d reached my 2010 hunting whitetail hunting goals. My plans had definitely changed for the better.

happy hunting, dv

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JUN 08

2010

dv’s List of Archery and Bowhunting Don’ts

Posted by dustyvarmint

By Jerry Long, June 7, 2010

dustyvarmint’s Mostly Archery mission is to help you avoid the same mistakes I’ve made over time. Maybe this list will.

I’ve made some silly, frustrating and unnecessary archery and bowhunting mistakes over time and I’ve been around a few others who’ve done the same. Hopefully the below list of don’ts with results will lead you to success… and provide you with some entertainment. Please leave a comment letting me know which is your favorite or share a don’t with me.

DON’T:

…shoot your bow using a loose grip while standing on a concrete surface, while standing in a treestand or while bowfishing from a boat (not me) without a wrist sling. Results – banged up cam, must climb back down tree to retrieve bow and spend one hour cleaning/lubricating bow, respectively.

The bottom cam.

…wear water weight vest for exercising on military base (not me) or, I suspect, around a federal building. Result – guns pointed at you, manhandled by large men in uniform, sweaty and face down on ground for lengthy period of time.

…run hand along carbon arrow without inspecting first. Result – scream like baby, ask Mrs. dustyvarmint to remove large carbon splinter in finger, heckling from Mrs. dustyvarmint.

Wahhhnnnnn!!!!

…set up bow with draw length measuring arrow without verifying measuring marks first. Result – bow draw length too short three times in a row, pull out what little hair remains.

Which mark is which?

…pitch tent in shallow depression no matter the forecast. Result – spend nights in car on lumpy seat not meant for sleeping.

…confuse outfitter’s wife with telemarketer and rudely exlaim, “NO! dustyvarmint does NOT live here!” Result – lose awesome, cheap varmint shooting location in beautiful mountains of eastern Oregon.

…drive hour-and-a-half to limited draw hunting area forgetting both limited draw tag and parking permit. Result – drive hour-and-a-half back to alternate hunting location just in time to make evening hunt.

…schedule serious home improvement project during archery season. Result – no workee, period.

…do home improvement projects during archery season while standing on ladder more than two feet off ground. Result – broken ankle, blood clot, screws in ankle, many blood thinner shots to stomach, missed hunts, walking cast frozen to treestand, Mrs. dustyvarmint shovels all snow and Thanksgiving family much easier to bear when passed out on the sofa due to pain medication. Hmmmm…

…shoot new drop away rest without verifying connecting rope knots are tight. Result – arrows impact lower and lower and lower…

…hold aluminum flashlight in mouth when temperatures are below freezing (not me). Result – same as sticking tongue on flag pole.

…”fix” bow’s set up; sights, rest, peep, etc., during season unless actually broken. Result – missed deer and nearly ruined trip to Texas.

…choose Snickers bars or M&Ms as treestand snacks at temperatures less than 30 degrees. Result – snacks harder than stones.

…think Pop Tarts will travel well to treestand. Result – permanent gooey mess in trouser cargo pockets.

…leave video camera battery in truck. Result – miss recording successful bear hunt on video.

…skip checking “bow zero” upon arrival to any hunting camp. Result – miss three beautiful pronghorn from 32-36 yards.

I missed three much larger pronghorn bucks before connecting on this one.

…use cheap mechanical broadheads on first turkey hunting trip to Kansas. Result – failure to open, catastrophic failure, lost turkey, go home empty handed.

…ship bow to Kansas for hunting trip in just a cardboard box. Result – smashed rest.

…expect airline baggage handlers to not drag blind across flight line. Result – holes in blind bag, damaged hubs.

…assume family member returned video or still camera to highest resolution before taking pictures or video of once-in-a-lifetime adventure or fail to check trophy pictures shot by friends. Result – no or poor graphic memories.

Is that dustyvarmint, is that an arrow in that turkey, what???

happy hunting, dv

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MAY 04

2010

BowDekeTastrophe

Posted by dustyvarmint

By Jerry Long, May 3, 2010

With extremely limited time to hunt, my turkey season turns disastrous in a hurry.

My vacation time is limited this year due to the Africa adventure, see the Bowhunting Africa page, so turkey season was going to be very short. The morning started out well – coffee was good and outdoor’s buddy Seth was along. We’d set up in a spot that produced close encounters last year, see dv’s 2009 Turkey Season – Fried Tag, with Seth’s Primos’ Jake Mobile on point and my Flambeau Fair Lady hen nearby.

The Primos Jake Mobile decoy.

The Flambeau Fair Lady hen decoy – I think she’s givin’ you the eye.

Once settled in I decided to check shooting window clearance. This check is always a good idea to avoid shooting through the side of the blind when attempting to put the smack down on a turkey. Just because your sight clears the window doesn’t mean that broadhead, six inches lower, will. As I got to about three-quarter draw, not yet beginning to point or aim, all heck broke loose. As usual when things go wrong everything happened pretty quickly.

The arrow flew out the blind’s window and stuck Jake Mobile right in the head. The bowstring was still in one piece, but was only half on the cams – stuck on the cable posts and axles. As I sat there, mouth agape and thinking about field fixes, a turkey gobbled to the east. Seth started looking for a rope of some kind to compress the limbs. Then he jumped outside the blind to retrieve the arrow from Jake’s head mumbling about doing that once before when I missed a quickly moving South Dakota turkey and hit a large round hay bale. Another tom gobbled from the north.

Helpful Hunting Note: It is good to have a hunting partner with GREAT patience such as Seth. On the same South Dakota trip mentioned above I tied his buddy’s Double-Bull blind into such a confounded knot it took two of us twenty minutes to straighten out. Never a frustrated peep or action issued from him.

We sat there discussing options. Another turkey gobbled. The end result was I’d come to hunt and couldn’t do so with a broken bow. We packed up, me with a heavy heart, and headed to the truck. Back at The Brothers’ huntin’ cabin we sorted through Bessey woodworking clamps (not enough adjustment) and settled upon a long set of Irwin Quick Grip clamps. After reducing the majority of the weight from the limbs we placed one clamp on either side of the limb-tips and pressed in tandem. We each really needed one more hand apiece, but got the string back on the cams. The serving was damaged on each end where it had hit the posts and my peep had fallen out.

Irwin Quick-Grip Clamps.

We returned all to nearly normal after a bit of shooting and tweaking. A little un-nerved I kept the arrows in a six-inch circle at 20 yards, but the shooting was not up to my personal standard. After taking a break and settling in I regained a little confidence. My arrow had bright red paint and white on it from Jake’s head. Pieces of feather fletching were missing here and there. Jake is none-the-better for a 1 3/4″ Wasp Jakhammer hole just below his chin and a slice down the back. I intentionally avoided all pictures of the incident.

We hit the field again making a couple of blind sits and a stalk on a tom without success. The following morning the rain was coming down in torrents and the wind was blowing enough to move the tree tops 12-18 inches. Oh well, there’s always next year, hopefully in Kansas…

happy hunting, dv

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