20+ Years In The Making......(the curse is lifted)
11-10-2003, 08:25 PM
#1
Boone & Crockett
Thread Starter
Join Date: Feb 2003
Location: Mississippi USA
Posts: 15,296
20+ Years In The Making......(the curse is lifted)
Well, I finally did it--I got my deer. Not just my first deer with a longbow, my first deer PERIOD. Not something I brag about, but I' m not ashamed of it--I had been cursed.
I was born with hunting in my veins--as far back as I can remember, I was chasing some kind of wild animal with some type of weapon. In the early years, I was a most deadly preditor with my tried and true Daisy Red Ryder bb gun. Many a small creature fell to it' s deadly projectiles--bumblebees, beetles, and some of God' s small creatures that I am sorry I took fell to the little copper bb' s. Later on I advanced to a Crossman 21--the cottontail population took a hard knock after that. I hunted blackbirds, bullfrogs, even doves (roosted--I wasn' t THAT good!)--and seldom missed. Many a snake and snapping turtle went to their final resting place at the bottom of our pond. I could sneak up on the wariest of small game--where did that talent go?????? I wish I knew........I sure lost it somewhere down the line.
In the meantime I was always experimenting with different weapons--homemade bow and arrows (of course), slings, slingshots, blowguns, and a peculiar weapon that we (my brother and me) came up with that consisted of a short piece of PVC pipe and rocks. One rock was carefully selected to plug the end of the pipe (driven in with another, larger rock) and then the pipe was loaded with either one large rock that barely fit into the 1 1/2" -2" pipe, or a handfull of small rocks. The pipe was then slung overhand, kind of atlatl style, to sling the rock(s) out at an impressive speed. I don' t think we ever killed anything with those, but we scared many a bird off the powerline that ran across the front yard with them.
Living the the " sticks" in Northeast Mississippi, hunting and guns were as much a part of life as eating and sleeping. When I was old enough, I went with my dad coon hunting, trapping, quail hunting, squirrel hunting, and of course deer hunting. My first " real" gun was an old Savage 20 gauge single shot that I had to use a screwdriver to eject the spent hulls with--it was the best gun in the world (actually shot a heck of a tight pattern), and again the birds and cottontails quivered in fear.
Here is where the problem started, or rather the solution never appeared. Back then, in these parts, deer hunting meant hitting the back roads with dogs in pick-up trucks equipped with CB radios. That was the only way I ever knew of anyone hunting deer for many years, probably until I was a teen. It was just the way you did it here. The roads were gravel, very little traffic anywhere, and practically no houses. Still hunting, ground blinds, and tree stands were unheard of. I did learn a good bit about the woods from trapping with my dad, squirrel hunting, and just rambling around (one of my favorite pastimes). Fast forward a few years..........
The place is still in the " sticks" , but a lot more populated. Most of the roads have been blacktopped, and it' s not practical (not to mention dangerous) to road hunt anymore. The practice was eventually made illegal, but well after my dad had given it up. Due to getting older, more traffic/houses/etc. and staying busy trying to make a living, he had pretty much given up hunting all-together. He fished when he had time, and still does some, but seemed to have just lost interest in the hunt when the only method he knew went away.
I' m really not sure how old I was when I decided to take up persueing deer on my own. I do remember the first deer I ever shot at--I think I was 13. I' ll try to make a long story short here, or at least this part of it. I walked by one of the picture windows in the house, and something toward the bottom of our front yard (big yard) caught my eye--was that a bunch of deer???? (like I said, we live in the sticks......) I ran to my room, and on a chair I had place my trusty Remington .22 semi-auto rifle (probably the most accurate weapon I have ever owned) and a .30 caliber carbine my uncle had loaned me. In a panic, and out of pure habit, I grabbed the .22 and took off. Now, season was open--as best I remember it was late Dec. or early Jan--but I was in my " lounging around the house being a bum" outfit which consisted of cut-off shorts and a t-shirt. I peeped out the window and the deer were gone. I went down the yard where they were (barefooted, and there was ice on the ground in places) and saw tracks everywhere. The muddy tracks went right down the fairly recently black-topped road (seemed to be more tar than slag on that road). I hollered for ' ol Bob, our Walker hound (danged if I know where he was when the deer were in the yard) and put him on the trail--off we went. We traveled straight on down the road, tracks still clearly visible, for about a mile. Bob took off to the left up a hill, hot on the trail, barking and baying for all he was worth. I stood there, barefooted, and looked. For some reason I looked to the low ground on the other side of the road, which was a pasture back then (pine thicket now). Running up a hedge row, at about 95 mph (it seemed), a deer (spike, maybe a 4-point--hard to tell, but it had small antlers) was getting some gone. I threw up my .22, and of course I got no deer. Kicking myself for grabbing the wrong rifle, I started to realize it was freezing outside and I was dang near naked. Thought I was gonna' freeze to death before I got back to the house!
At some point, I decided I wanted to hunt deer--REALLY hunt, but didn' t have a clue how. I had to learn the hard way--homemade blinds and death-trap homemade treestands (thankfully I never fell), looking and hoping but no luck.
When I took up bowhunting, I started with a Hoyt Finalist--round wheels, wooden limbs, flipper rest--I was high-tech! With the help of a then-new friend, Mike Johnson (who is still a very good friend), I learned a bit about shooting and became pretty accurate, at least on targets. Now, for the first time since the fateful incident in my shorts, the Curse rears it' s ugly head. I' d been shooting religiously, and busting nocks--I was ready. However, my string was getting worn and I decided I better replace it so there were no accidents while hunting. It was close to season, and the only local shop was packed. My string was ordered, then backordered, and the NIGHT before opening day I got my new string. Being completely ignorant, and with nowhere to practice at 9pm, I figured it would be ok--WRONG! Opening morning I went out, got in my stand, and within a half-hour I had grunted in (first and only time I ever had any real sucess with a grunt tube) a little 6-point. Young deer, with a small but perfect rack. I thought my heart would explode. I watched him come in, looking for the fawn (me) that was bleating. Luckily I remembered to breathe again just before I passed out. The 55 lb Hoyt felt like 500lbs when I tried to pull it back--I couldn' t do it! The young buck began to feed on acorns, taking his time and easing along, about 15-20 feet from the base of the tree I was in. Finally I got my breathing under control and got enough strength to draw my bow. It was first light, and I sent the Beeman with a 125 grain Muzzy on a search and destroy mission. I heard a " thump" , the deer jumped a little, looked around, and began feeding again--I had missed! I stood there in disbelief--NO WAY! I KNEW what I could do with that bow, and missing was not on the list! When the young buck starting feeding on down the trail I finally came to my senses and grabbed another arrow. I couldn' t see the black Beeman shaft with it' s blue and grey fletchings, so I had no idea how to adjust. I put the pin on him again, another " thump" . This time he didn' t even raise his head, but simply fed out of my sight. I climbed down, found my arrows, and headed for a huge target butt close by at my neighbors shop. A few shots confirmed it--my sights were off by a mile! It was either 2' low and 4' to the right (approximately), or vice-versa, but either way that deer was as safe as he would have been in a steel vault.
Later on I was " into" handguns, and missed a couple of nice bucks with my .44 caliber Ruger Super Redhawk. Since this post is already so long, and going to get longer, I won' t bore you with the details. It' s enough to say that luck was not on my side, and in both instances I should have had better sense than to even try to get a shot off. Thankfully they were clean misses. Last year I got another two shots at a young doe, and again two clean misses--with my longbow. No excuse, I just plain missed. The Curse was still going strong.
Finally, the best part. First, I want to give my thanks and full credit to my buddy Tom " Radio" Kiessling (Tom-TN). He had invited me to come hunt with him some time back, and he knew of my situation (curse). Tom also spotted, and gave me the shot, on the cock spruce grouse I got on my trip to Canada last year. I give him all kinds of crap every chance I get, but Tom is one heck of a guy and a true friend. I also want to thank Mr. Miller, a neighbor of Tom' s and a friend to us both, for letting us hunt his property, and choosing to let Tom and me have it to ourselves the entire weekend, although Mr. Miller is an avid archer and hunter himself. Finally, I want to thank Tom' s buddy Mike. I didn' t see any deer there, other than the one Tom got, but I sure appreciated the opportunity to hunt there.
I drove up to Tom' s house (about 3.5 hrs) Thursday evening and we ran to town to get my license. The whole time I was thinking to myself " what' s the use?" . You see, I have spent many hours in the woods hunting deer, primarily with a bow, and I have seen several. I admit, some seasons I barely got into the woods, but other times I tried hard. Many times I saw deer coming in, but something always gave me away. Many more times, I got busted before I even saw the deer! I would just hear the familiar snort and the deer crashing off to the next county.
Friday am I didn' t see anything, and I don' t think Tom did either. Friday evening we went to a different spot, and Tom saw a couple of does get run off by horses owned by the lady that owned the adjoining property. I had a decent doe get within 5 yds of me. Unfortunately, she was on top of me before I knew it, and I was in plain view of her 12' up in a ladder stand--I didn' t dare move. She finally went behind some trees and walked straight away from me--no shot.
Saturday am we went out to one place, me with my Crusader, Tom with his side-hammer muzzleloader. Tom hadn' t been in his stand 5 minutes when I heard ka-POW and a young doe comes barrelling by me about 40 yds away and crashes. Tom had said he wanted a young one to eat, and his plan came together. That evening we went to the other place--Mr. Miller' s place-- (our eveing spot), and I got in the same stand, hoping to see the doe again--this time I would be ready. Around 5pm I heard a branch break and the familiar sound of footsteps in the leaves behind and off to the side of me--the same place the doe had come out the evening before. I eased to my feet and got ready--she was mine this time. I stood and waited, and waited, and waited, but she never appeared--DANG! Then I looked across the field--the place looked like a park, thick green grass everywhere, but short--and saw him coming. My first thoughts were it was a doe (I couldn' t see the antlers, it was a long way off yet) and it had a bad limp. I thought someone had shot one of it' s front legs out from under it. However, it cleared the neighbor' s fence and headed my way--heart went beserk, almost forgot to breathe again. He came across, slightly behind me, to the edge of the woods I was in. I watched him as he came--take a few steps, eat some grass, take a few more steps, eat some grass--he did this until he got to a hackberry bush, just a few steps from giving me a shot, and stopped! I figured, " yep, this is it--this is where I always get busted" . I didn' t give up yet though, although honestly I wanted to. Finally, he took a step, then another..........
I vaguely remember drawing my bow, and I remember my bright yellow arrow flying to it' s mark. I couldn' t believe it! I made the shot! The buck ran about 30 yds along the woodline, and turned as if he was going into the woods. He stopped, looked around as if to say " what in the world was that??" , swayed, stumbled, reared up and fell over backwards. From the moment of impact until he hit the ground for good was about 10 seconds. A weak kick or two, and he was done--maybe 15-20 seconds total. I just stood there--I still couldn' t believe it. I wanted to let out a big ' ol Rebel yell, but Tom was in a stand about 200 yds away and I didn' t want to mess up his hunting, so I just stood there. I actually considered jumping to the ground from my stand for a second, but then my knees got weak--really weak. I had to sit down or fall down. There for a few minutes, if the tree had caught fire I would have had to just sit there and burn--I couldn' t have climbed down if my life had depended on it.
Meanwhile Tom had seen the buck approaching, along with two does that were close to him. He climbed down in spite of the does--he had heard the impact of my shot and heard the buck crash in the dry leaves--he had to come check it out! He got to the deer before I even climbed down. Eventually I made it down and went to check out my trophy--it was awesome! Not a huge rack, but unusual, and I couldn' t have been happier if it had been Buckzilla--I had finally done it. No bait, no calls or scents (Tom had grunted at it, thinking it was going to turn before it got to me, but I never saw it pay any attention to him at all--I didn' t even know he had grunted until he told me). Just my longbow and cedar arrows tipped with 125 grain Ribteks. We found my arrow stuck about 6" in the ground behind where he had stood. The limp was from a front leg that had obviously been broken some time back, and mended badly. More than likely hit by a vehicle.
I' ve taken a lot of game with traditional bows--gobs of rabbits, fish, frogs, an armidillo, grouse, a racoon, etc. and each and every one gave me a terrific rush--but this one was extra special. I' m still on cloud nine!
Obviously I could go on and on, but I have rambled enough. Thanks again Tom and Mr. Miller--I couldn' t have done it without you.
Chad
I was born with hunting in my veins--as far back as I can remember, I was chasing some kind of wild animal with some type of weapon. In the early years, I was a most deadly preditor with my tried and true Daisy Red Ryder bb gun. Many a small creature fell to it' s deadly projectiles--bumblebees, beetles, and some of God' s small creatures that I am sorry I took fell to the little copper bb' s. Later on I advanced to a Crossman 21--the cottontail population took a hard knock after that. I hunted blackbirds, bullfrogs, even doves (roosted--I wasn' t THAT good!)--and seldom missed. Many a snake and snapping turtle went to their final resting place at the bottom of our pond. I could sneak up on the wariest of small game--where did that talent go?????? I wish I knew........I sure lost it somewhere down the line.
In the meantime I was always experimenting with different weapons--homemade bow and arrows (of course), slings, slingshots, blowguns, and a peculiar weapon that we (my brother and me) came up with that consisted of a short piece of PVC pipe and rocks. One rock was carefully selected to plug the end of the pipe (driven in with another, larger rock) and then the pipe was loaded with either one large rock that barely fit into the 1 1/2" -2" pipe, or a handfull of small rocks. The pipe was then slung overhand, kind of atlatl style, to sling the rock(s) out at an impressive speed. I don' t think we ever killed anything with those, but we scared many a bird off the powerline that ran across the front yard with them.
Living the the " sticks" in Northeast Mississippi, hunting and guns were as much a part of life as eating and sleeping. When I was old enough, I went with my dad coon hunting, trapping, quail hunting, squirrel hunting, and of course deer hunting. My first " real" gun was an old Savage 20 gauge single shot that I had to use a screwdriver to eject the spent hulls with--it was the best gun in the world (actually shot a heck of a tight pattern), and again the birds and cottontails quivered in fear.
Here is where the problem started, or rather the solution never appeared. Back then, in these parts, deer hunting meant hitting the back roads with dogs in pick-up trucks equipped with CB radios. That was the only way I ever knew of anyone hunting deer for many years, probably until I was a teen. It was just the way you did it here. The roads were gravel, very little traffic anywhere, and practically no houses. Still hunting, ground blinds, and tree stands were unheard of. I did learn a good bit about the woods from trapping with my dad, squirrel hunting, and just rambling around (one of my favorite pastimes). Fast forward a few years..........
The place is still in the " sticks" , but a lot more populated. Most of the roads have been blacktopped, and it' s not practical (not to mention dangerous) to road hunt anymore. The practice was eventually made illegal, but well after my dad had given it up. Due to getting older, more traffic/houses/etc. and staying busy trying to make a living, he had pretty much given up hunting all-together. He fished when he had time, and still does some, but seemed to have just lost interest in the hunt when the only method he knew went away.
I' m really not sure how old I was when I decided to take up persueing deer on my own. I do remember the first deer I ever shot at--I think I was 13. I' ll try to make a long story short here, or at least this part of it. I walked by one of the picture windows in the house, and something toward the bottom of our front yard (big yard) caught my eye--was that a bunch of deer???? (like I said, we live in the sticks......) I ran to my room, and on a chair I had place my trusty Remington .22 semi-auto rifle (probably the most accurate weapon I have ever owned) and a .30 caliber carbine my uncle had loaned me. In a panic, and out of pure habit, I grabbed the .22 and took off. Now, season was open--as best I remember it was late Dec. or early Jan--but I was in my " lounging around the house being a bum" outfit which consisted of cut-off shorts and a t-shirt. I peeped out the window and the deer were gone. I went down the yard where they were (barefooted, and there was ice on the ground in places) and saw tracks everywhere. The muddy tracks went right down the fairly recently black-topped road (seemed to be more tar than slag on that road). I hollered for ' ol Bob, our Walker hound (danged if I know where he was when the deer were in the yard) and put him on the trail--off we went. We traveled straight on down the road, tracks still clearly visible, for about a mile. Bob took off to the left up a hill, hot on the trail, barking and baying for all he was worth. I stood there, barefooted, and looked. For some reason I looked to the low ground on the other side of the road, which was a pasture back then (pine thicket now). Running up a hedge row, at about 95 mph (it seemed), a deer (spike, maybe a 4-point--hard to tell, but it had small antlers) was getting some gone. I threw up my .22, and of course I got no deer. Kicking myself for grabbing the wrong rifle, I started to realize it was freezing outside and I was dang near naked. Thought I was gonna' freeze to death before I got back to the house!
At some point, I decided I wanted to hunt deer--REALLY hunt, but didn' t have a clue how. I had to learn the hard way--homemade blinds and death-trap homemade treestands (thankfully I never fell), looking and hoping but no luck.
When I took up bowhunting, I started with a Hoyt Finalist--round wheels, wooden limbs, flipper rest--I was high-tech! With the help of a then-new friend, Mike Johnson (who is still a very good friend), I learned a bit about shooting and became pretty accurate, at least on targets. Now, for the first time since the fateful incident in my shorts, the Curse rears it' s ugly head. I' d been shooting religiously, and busting nocks--I was ready. However, my string was getting worn and I decided I better replace it so there were no accidents while hunting. It was close to season, and the only local shop was packed. My string was ordered, then backordered, and the NIGHT before opening day I got my new string. Being completely ignorant, and with nowhere to practice at 9pm, I figured it would be ok--WRONG! Opening morning I went out, got in my stand, and within a half-hour I had grunted in (first and only time I ever had any real sucess with a grunt tube) a little 6-point. Young deer, with a small but perfect rack. I thought my heart would explode. I watched him come in, looking for the fawn (me) that was bleating. Luckily I remembered to breathe again just before I passed out. The 55 lb Hoyt felt like 500lbs when I tried to pull it back--I couldn' t do it! The young buck began to feed on acorns, taking his time and easing along, about 15-20 feet from the base of the tree I was in. Finally I got my breathing under control and got enough strength to draw my bow. It was first light, and I sent the Beeman with a 125 grain Muzzy on a search and destroy mission. I heard a " thump" , the deer jumped a little, looked around, and began feeding again--I had missed! I stood there in disbelief--NO WAY! I KNEW what I could do with that bow, and missing was not on the list! When the young buck starting feeding on down the trail I finally came to my senses and grabbed another arrow. I couldn' t see the black Beeman shaft with it' s blue and grey fletchings, so I had no idea how to adjust. I put the pin on him again, another " thump" . This time he didn' t even raise his head, but simply fed out of my sight. I climbed down, found my arrows, and headed for a huge target butt close by at my neighbors shop. A few shots confirmed it--my sights were off by a mile! It was either 2' low and 4' to the right (approximately), or vice-versa, but either way that deer was as safe as he would have been in a steel vault.
Later on I was " into" handguns, and missed a couple of nice bucks with my .44 caliber Ruger Super Redhawk. Since this post is already so long, and going to get longer, I won' t bore you with the details. It' s enough to say that luck was not on my side, and in both instances I should have had better sense than to even try to get a shot off. Thankfully they were clean misses. Last year I got another two shots at a young doe, and again two clean misses--with my longbow. No excuse, I just plain missed. The Curse was still going strong.
Finally, the best part. First, I want to give my thanks and full credit to my buddy Tom " Radio" Kiessling (Tom-TN). He had invited me to come hunt with him some time back, and he knew of my situation (curse). Tom also spotted, and gave me the shot, on the cock spruce grouse I got on my trip to Canada last year. I give him all kinds of crap every chance I get, but Tom is one heck of a guy and a true friend. I also want to thank Mr. Miller, a neighbor of Tom' s and a friend to us both, for letting us hunt his property, and choosing to let Tom and me have it to ourselves the entire weekend, although Mr. Miller is an avid archer and hunter himself. Finally, I want to thank Tom' s buddy Mike. I didn' t see any deer there, other than the one Tom got, but I sure appreciated the opportunity to hunt there.
I drove up to Tom' s house (about 3.5 hrs) Thursday evening and we ran to town to get my license. The whole time I was thinking to myself " what' s the use?" . You see, I have spent many hours in the woods hunting deer, primarily with a bow, and I have seen several. I admit, some seasons I barely got into the woods, but other times I tried hard. Many times I saw deer coming in, but something always gave me away. Many more times, I got busted before I even saw the deer! I would just hear the familiar snort and the deer crashing off to the next county.
Friday am I didn' t see anything, and I don' t think Tom did either. Friday evening we went to a different spot, and Tom saw a couple of does get run off by horses owned by the lady that owned the adjoining property. I had a decent doe get within 5 yds of me. Unfortunately, she was on top of me before I knew it, and I was in plain view of her 12' up in a ladder stand--I didn' t dare move. She finally went behind some trees and walked straight away from me--no shot.
Saturday am we went out to one place, me with my Crusader, Tom with his side-hammer muzzleloader. Tom hadn' t been in his stand 5 minutes when I heard ka-POW and a young doe comes barrelling by me about 40 yds away and crashes. Tom had said he wanted a young one to eat, and his plan came together. That evening we went to the other place--Mr. Miller' s place-- (our eveing spot), and I got in the same stand, hoping to see the doe again--this time I would be ready. Around 5pm I heard a branch break and the familiar sound of footsteps in the leaves behind and off to the side of me--the same place the doe had come out the evening before. I eased to my feet and got ready--she was mine this time. I stood and waited, and waited, and waited, but she never appeared--DANG! Then I looked across the field--the place looked like a park, thick green grass everywhere, but short--and saw him coming. My first thoughts were it was a doe (I couldn' t see the antlers, it was a long way off yet) and it had a bad limp. I thought someone had shot one of it' s front legs out from under it. However, it cleared the neighbor' s fence and headed my way--heart went beserk, almost forgot to breathe again. He came across, slightly behind me, to the edge of the woods I was in. I watched him as he came--take a few steps, eat some grass, take a few more steps, eat some grass--he did this until he got to a hackberry bush, just a few steps from giving me a shot, and stopped! I figured, " yep, this is it--this is where I always get busted" . I didn' t give up yet though, although honestly I wanted to. Finally, he took a step, then another..........
I vaguely remember drawing my bow, and I remember my bright yellow arrow flying to it' s mark. I couldn' t believe it! I made the shot! The buck ran about 30 yds along the woodline, and turned as if he was going into the woods. He stopped, looked around as if to say " what in the world was that??" , swayed, stumbled, reared up and fell over backwards. From the moment of impact until he hit the ground for good was about 10 seconds. A weak kick or two, and he was done--maybe 15-20 seconds total. I just stood there--I still couldn' t believe it. I wanted to let out a big ' ol Rebel yell, but Tom was in a stand about 200 yds away and I didn' t want to mess up his hunting, so I just stood there. I actually considered jumping to the ground from my stand for a second, but then my knees got weak--really weak. I had to sit down or fall down. There for a few minutes, if the tree had caught fire I would have had to just sit there and burn--I couldn' t have climbed down if my life had depended on it.
Meanwhile Tom had seen the buck approaching, along with two does that were close to him. He climbed down in spite of the does--he had heard the impact of my shot and heard the buck crash in the dry leaves--he had to come check it out! He got to the deer before I even climbed down. Eventually I made it down and went to check out my trophy--it was awesome! Not a huge rack, but unusual, and I couldn' t have been happier if it had been Buckzilla--I had finally done it. No bait, no calls or scents (Tom had grunted at it, thinking it was going to turn before it got to me, but I never saw it pay any attention to him at all--I didn' t even know he had grunted until he told me). Just my longbow and cedar arrows tipped with 125 grain Ribteks. We found my arrow stuck about 6" in the ground behind where he had stood. The limp was from a front leg that had obviously been broken some time back, and mended badly. More than likely hit by a vehicle.
I' ve taken a lot of game with traditional bows--gobs of rabbits, fish, frogs, an armidillo, grouse, a racoon, etc. and each and every one gave me a terrific rush--but this one was extra special. I' m still on cloud nine!
Obviously I could go on and on, but I have rambled enough. Thanks again Tom and Mr. Miller--I couldn' t have done it without you.
Chad
11-10-2003, 09:32 PM
#4
Giant Nontypical
Join Date: Feb 2003
Posts: 9,175
RE: 20+ Years In The Making......(the curse is lifted)
Great story, Chad. I gotta say, I pity the poor devils that get a buck on their first trip to the woods. The time and effort you put into YOUR first really lays a heap of appreciation on ya. Nothing much left to say except ' atta boy' and congratulations! 
At least now we know what it takes to get you all chatty.
About the hat... You know, I have my favorite huntin' hats too, but I refuse to wear a hat so many years that it starts sprouting leaves like that. [>:]
At least now we know what it takes to get you all chatty.
About the hat... You know, I have my favorite huntin' hats too, but I refuse to wear a hat so many years that it starts sprouting leaves like that. [>:]
11-10-2003, 09:48 PM
#5
Boone & Crockett
Thread Starter
Join Date: Feb 2003
Location: Mississippi USA
Posts: 15,296
RE: 20+ Years In The Making......(the curse is lifted)
I have caught more crap over that hat......[>:]
Ya' ll may know that I am not a big advocate of camo. Nothing against it, but I think it' s a lot like fishing lures--intended more for fooling the consumer, not the game. The wool overalls were borrowed (then purchased--they were too big for him) from Tom. That North wind about cut me in half! Cold is no problem, that wind was! Notice how faded the long-sleeve under the overalls is--had it for years. The only lightweight long-sleeve I could find at the time. It was covered, along with the top portion of the overalls, by a grey wool vest (also borrowed from Tom). I had a tan and green plaid flannel shirt on most of the time also--had to shed a bunch of stuff after the excitement got to me!
Now, for the hat. I got the idea when in Bass Pro Shops in Memphis a while back. They sell a " kit" that contains these plastic leaves and safety pins for making your own camo into a " leafy" suit--think it was around $5. I think that many, if not most of the times I got picked out by a deer was because of my head. If you had been busted as many times as me, you' d try anything too! Btw, those " leaves" came from the craft dept. at Wal-Mart--.88 cents if I remember correctly, and a box of safety pins was cheap also. I didn' t worry about matching the leaves to my outfit (as if that were possible), I just wanted something to break up the outline of my noggin. On this deer, it didn' t make any difference--he never looked up, but you never know..............
Chad
Ya' ll may know that I am not a big advocate of camo. Nothing against it, but I think it' s a lot like fishing lures--intended more for fooling the consumer, not the game. The wool overalls were borrowed (then purchased--they were too big for him) from Tom. That North wind about cut me in half! Cold is no problem, that wind was! Notice how faded the long-sleeve under the overalls is--had it for years. The only lightweight long-sleeve I could find at the time. It was covered, along with the top portion of the overalls, by a grey wool vest (also borrowed from Tom). I had a tan and green plaid flannel shirt on most of the time also--had to shed a bunch of stuff after the excitement got to me!
Now, for the hat. I got the idea when in Bass Pro Shops in Memphis a while back. They sell a " kit" that contains these plastic leaves and safety pins for making your own camo into a " leafy" suit--think it was around $5. I think that many, if not most of the times I got picked out by a deer was because of my head. If you had been busted as many times as me, you' d try anything too! Btw, those " leaves" came from the craft dept. at Wal-Mart--.88 cents if I remember correctly, and a box of safety pins was cheap also. I didn' t worry about matching the leaves to my outfit (as if that were possible), I just wanted something to break up the outline of my noggin. On this deer, it didn' t make any difference--he never looked up, but you never know..............
Chad
11-11-2003, 03:38 AM
#9
Join Date: Feb 2003
Location: south plymouth ny USA
Posts: 25
RE: 20+ Years In The Making......(the curse is lifted)
good to hear you can finally get one. I got 32 with the compound and 3 years ago went to the black side a checkmate firebird recurve and have zero shots. seems the deer all have gone away from me. But will keep on trying. Hope you get it mounted...