My Deer Hunting Success (Very Long Read) (Pics)
01-22-2008, 06:24 AM
#1
Nontypical Buck
Thread Starter
Join Date: Oct 2004
Location: in the woods or on the water...
Posts: 4,832
My Deer Hunting Success (Very Long Read) (Pics)
I enjoy writing and would like to share with you my hunting stories. If you are bored, this may be a good read for you. It is a personal writing so you may not understand some of the names and locations. Enjoy on the post below.
01-22-2008, 06:33 AM
#2
Nontypical Buck
Thread Starter
Join Date: Oct 2004
Location: in the woods or on the water...
Posts: 4,832
RE: My Deer Hunting Success (Very Long Read) (Pics)
November 27, 2002 – PM – Camp: Delta Co., MI – 20 gauge Remington 870 Express Shotgun
The 2002 deer season brought my first opportunity to hunt this species with a firearm. Young but experienced, my hunting was done strictly on our own property. On our property the Days River winds from the NW corner to the SE corner. On the northern most edge a Balsam swamp covers the area. This is a great place to find bedded deer during the midday. My father and I followed the edge of the swamp to the North boundary of our land and then followed it West to the middle of the swamp. We started off side by side but I found myself tripling my dad’s paces in my excitement. The excitement soon settled but it was far from gone. We crept along the two-track and suddenly a deer stood up 35 yards away. My father positioned me in front of himself and I shoulder the 20 gauge Remington 870 Express received as my Christmas present the previous year. The shot echoed through the swamp to our cabin a half mile away ringing in my mother’s ears. With the attention back to the deer, it hadn’t moved a muscle, still standing exactly how it had before the shot. I looked back at my dad, to see the best reloading impersonation he could muster. The ‘chuk, chuk’ of the shotgun was heard by the deer but never located. This time the shot was placed perfectly in the ribcage and the deer bounded away. This resulted in my fasted 40 yard dash time recorded, the whole time thinking ‘please let there be blood.’ No blood, but a single set of tracks led to a dead doe 20 yards ahead of us.
October 2003 – PM – Weber’s: Kent Co., MI – Golden Eagle ProHawk Bow
I set out this year with high hopes of harvesting a deer with my bow. I practiced everyday on shot placement and composure. The year was slow until mid-October. The deer started to move into Weber’s land and the rut was beginning. The lakes stand had presented me with many shots at does, but I was waiting for a buck and did not want to risk scaring him off. This made me want to hunt Weber’s until the rut. Perched in my tree I was located between a ridge and the Rouge River. Two young does worked there way along the bottom of the ridge, directly below my tree at 15 yards. Nerves took over, but I kept in mind what I had practiced. I then drew my bow, and placed my arrow perfectly in the vitals. As she bolted towards the river her legs gave out and she was mine! Before my father even came to pick me up, she was gutted and drug to the ridge.
September 26, 2004 – PM – Rouge River State Land: Kent Co., MI – 12 gauge Remington 870 Wingmaster shotgun
Michigan’s youth deer hunt is a great opportunity to get a youngster a deer. I qualified for this hunt and was able to carry a gun into the field. The hunt began in the Chopin’s near Luther/Tustin, Michigan. We had seen some very mature bucks last year during the youth hunt and were hoping we could see them again. All of Saturday and Sunday morning ended with no deer sightings. Lack of deer led to our next decision, heading home to hunt the Rouge River State Land. Summer scouting showed some travel routes coming from a swamp to crop fields. My mother and I positioned ourselves along the ridge early in the afternoon. As time was winding down a deer showed heading to the crop fields. Our setup was perfect and one shot from the 12 gauge slug dropped him in his tracks and I harvested my first buck ever. The buck sported five points with 9 ½” spread.
November 19/20, 2005 – PM/AM – Indian Lakes: Kent Co., MI – 12 gauge Remington 870 Wingmaster shotgun
This year I hunted Weber’s exclusively and the majority of my buck sightings were seen here. Several hunts during the bow season resulted in very close calls but no dead deer. When the rut started getting serious the deer disappeared from the area – as did I. Knowing that the strait between Indian Lakes is always a reliable rut location, I climbed the wooden platform the next possible day (weather and wind pending). Awaiting dusk, I began second guessing the decision of not hunting Weber’s. That thought vanished as the heartwarming splash of water drown in my ears. I remember thinking ‘every time I hear that splash the deer are coming on the trail directly below me.’ Still holding true, the does began to filter into the clearing next to the tree I was hunting from. The deer were browsing within 20 yards, and more deer were following on the trail to my West. As they filed into the clearing the unmistakable sound of a deep grunt followed them. That deep grunt meant one thing, a buck within shooting range. If the deer continued their original path I would have a 25 yard shot, but before they could do so a scent check told them something was not right. I was in a bad position with the eyes of the deer pinning me down to relatively no movement. The does then became very nervous and snorted twice. It was now or never, so I spun a 180 degree turn only to see a white rack sticking out of the timber. The rest was a blur with two loud bangs. Before I could even phone my father, he had his boots on and was out the door. Replaying everything in my head, I wondered if I even hit the monarch that I had just seen. When my father arrived, in complete darkness, we went to the place where I shot at the buck. “I shot at him right here,” I protested. There was no indication of a hit on the deer, when the flashlight shined upon a fresh hole in a sapling. “Where was your second and third shot?” My father questioned. Within yards I said, “He should have been right about here.” That is when we spotted white hair, blood, and fatty pieces of stomach tissue: every hunter’s nightmare. Being a Saturday night, we called it quits with plans to resume looking at midnight. The tracking was extremely difficult in very close quarters. It took hours to track the buck a mere 30 yards, only to have him circle back to the clearing. The only way we kept on the bucks trail was by finding bloody acorns that fell from the hole in his stomach. With near impossible tracking conditions and a stomach full of knots, the only option was to continue tracking in the morning.
The morning could not come soon enough and the night resulted in no sleep. We continued the search at eight o’clock Sunday morning, heading back to the last bloody acorn that was found. There was a small amount of patchy snow on the ground and it was melting quickly. Trailing the blood loss of the deer was not an option. Luckily we were able to recover some more acorns that had fallen from his stomach. Every inch of land we searched seemed to diminish the fate of finding the deer. At this point we were guessing, not tracking. After three hours of searching and covering less then 100 yards we came to two conclusions. The buck either crossed a housing development or circled behind a channel of the Upper Indian Lake. If either of these situations were true we would be unable to recover the deer. The fate of the monarch was gone, so we skirted the edge of the development back home. Flashbacks and ideas came to mind, but they were hopeless. Hopeless until my dad’s voice brought me back to reality. “There he is up by the house in the development!” The thought was impossible, but I followed him up near the yard. Only feet from the lawn lay the buck of my dreams. My father and I took hold of his antlers and drug him for almost 40 yards without stopping. Anyone could tell by the look on my face, the Acorn Buck was mine. I counted seven massive points along with a 13 ½” spread. Each antlers base had a circumference of 5 ¾”.
December 22, 2005 – PM – Weber’s: Kent Co., MI – 12 gauge Remington 870 Wingmaster shotgun
After shooting the Acorn Buck, I did little hunting around the house. We made our annual trip to the cabin. It was a tough year up there. With a doe tag in hand I began baiting Weber’s in December. As soon as the first cold front moved in, the deer hit the bait daily. My stand was placed in between the river bottom and the ridge. Deer would bed near the river and move to the ridge in the evening to feed. Late doe season would allow me to use a firearm from December 20th until the first of the New Year. It only took two hunts for my plan to become a success. The first hunt ended with no deer sightings but high hopes for the next day. With mild temperatures in the forecast, I knew the deer would be up and moving. Only an hour into the second hunt, two young deer and a mature doe appear. It was a great feeling to watch my setup unfold impeccably. The BuckHammer slug made a pass-thru dropping her in her tracks. With over an hour of daylight remaining, I leisurely gutted and drug the deer over the ridge with that same grin on my face.
October 27 / November 24, 2006 – PM – Camp: Delta Co., MI – Golden Eagle ProHawk Bow
This year presented my first opportunity to bow hunt the land around our cabin. The chance of seeing deer is great due to little hunting pressure until firearm season. My family and I were joined by some friends that planned to bird hunt the area. When hunting at our cabin, many options were available. Both public and private land is plentiful and inhabited with deer. I started out hunting private land around our cabin. With large buck rubs and community scrapes in the area, I knew I would see some deer. That statement proved to be true and I had encounters with numerous mature whitetails. During the evenings, our friends would get bored after they finished bird hunting, so we solved that problem by getting them in a tree on the state land. With no weapon in hand, he made the mile and a half ride by four-wheeler and proceeded to walk the remaining quarter mile. The area is so secluded that the deer seem to not know the difference of night and day. Within an hour on stand, a mature buck cautiously passed by within bow range. Before darkness closed in a bobcat trotted down a fallen cedar only 30 yards away. Upon returning to camp, we all shared stories from the day, and hearing about the state land buck intrigued me. The next day, I was the one making the 1 ¾ mile trip. It did not take long to hear the distinctive sound of an animal creeping along the runway. The first thing I noticed was the chocolate brown antlers through the sparse cedar tree, just as they were described the previous day. Since the buck was approaching quickly, I had troubles keeping my composure. The buck then began browsing inside 20 yards and gave me the time I needed to calm down. Having the ability to capture this moment in memory was as good as the kill. The buck continued his path and I was presented with a 15 yard broadside shot. When I drew the string of my bow, the buck’s sixth sense made my presence known. The shot felt solid, and the buck bound 30 yards away, only to stop and flicker his tail. Usually, this is indication of a bad shot and looking at the slimy film on my arrow I knew the deer deserved at least 8 hours before I should pursue it. My father hunted the next morning on the private land without success. My mother, father and I were joined by our local hunting partner in hopes of finding the buck I connected with. I knew the shot was fatal, but would we have the ability to find him? We were left with no blood trail in the thickest cedar swamp you can imagine; unable of finding the buck.
Over our annual visit to our cabin during the Michigan firearm deer season, I had another chance to look for what was left of the deer. Knowing that the predators had done away with the meat, the recovery of the antlers could give the deer the justice it deserved. Luckily, my father and I tagged two beautiful bucks earlier in the firearm season giving us some down time to explore. We had high hopes of finding the carcass for two reasons: the foliage on the brush had fallen and the predators would have trails to the dead deer. We began our grid search at the point of which we lost the blood trail of the deer in October. Two deer trails split the cedar swamp and another ran perpendicular to a high knoll. When the trails split, I continued in the swamp and my father followed up the knoll. Shortly I heard my father hollering, so I abandon my search and joined him. Deer hair covered the ground and the carcass lay a short distance away under a deadfall. The search ended in a success. It was a complicated recovery and many valuable lessons were learned. After getting the skull and antlers home, we measured an 11 ¾” spread with six countable points.
November 22, 2006 – PM – Camp: Delta Co., MI - .270 Savage Model 111
The 2006 firearm deer season began with disappointment because of the lost buck from bow hunting 19 days earlier. I hunted around the house with little success and noticed a lack in deer movement. I could only hope the deer up north were rutting harder. I planned on hunting some pastures and crop fields down the road from our cabin over the week of Thanksgiving. The location is in the middle of some cedar swamps and a creek bottom. This area is an optimal spot for pre-rut and rut times. My father shot a buck from the same stand I was hunting out of opening morning. The first day I was able to hunt here was November 22nd. The morning hunt produced one doe, but the day was not over. Sitting in camp was boring, so I made a bold move and decided to head out to the stand early. Surprisingly, I saw deer out in fields on the drive to my stand. This excitement continued when a deer fed in the pasture south of my stand approximately 200 yards away. I noted the time on my watch: 2:26 PM. With my attention back to preparing for the evening sit, I pulled my gun up the string and loaded a cartridge into the chamber. Before I could replace my gloves over my hands, I heard something crunching along the two-track heading right at me. The area from which the deer was coming is known for a quality community scrape. I hardly had enough time to raise my rifle before the massive body appeared through the underbrush. The CoreLokt bullet raced home, leaving the buck on his death run. Glancing back to my watch, five minutes had passed, it read 2:31 PM. With hours before dusk, I gave the beast time to expire before following a two foot wide blood trail directly to him. After thanking God for the animal I harvested I went back with great news for the family. My father and I got the buck on a scale and it showed 190 lbs gutted, with seven points and a 15 ¼” spread.
December 28/29, 2006 – PM/AM – Indian Lakes: Kent Co., MI – 20 gauge Remington 870 Express
This year December was rather easy on the deer. Late and little amounts of snow left the deer with plenty of food to eat, though the deer frequently hit the bait pile between the lakes. This was good news to me because usually the snowfall between the lakes restricts deer from bedding there. I went out bow hunting once after firearm season and drew back on a large doe. She became skittish and was much too alert for an ethical shot. She stayed in the area however, and my first opportunity to hunt again brought her down the same trail. This time I was equipped with a shotgun during the late doe season. She was no more than 20 yards when I squeezed the safety to the fire position. I placed the bead behind her shoulder and fired a single shot. She ran out of sight, but I could not imagine she was going far. Upon inspection of the point at which I shot her, white hair left me guessing about my shot placement. I tracked for about 20 yards and knew she would be dead in the morning.
The next day I continued my search from the last spot of blood and hair. The snow made an easy track for the remaining 80 yards. Looking at the exit hole from the bullet near the deer’s brisket explained the white hair I found while tracking and the bullet passed through the vitals.
October 1, 2007 – AM – Bradford’s: Kent Co., MI – Golden Eagle ProHawk Bow
Early season scouting in September left me with no question on where I would be hunting opening morning of bow season. Little deer sign was found at Weber’s or Indian Lakes, but the cornfield on Bradford’s farm was heavily populated by deer. My tree stand nearly hung over the railroad tracks. The railroad grade on Bradford’s property splits the 115 acre farm in half and the cornfield covers 30 acres on the west side. On the opposite side of the railroad tracks is a CRP field beside thick hardwoods. My tree stand was placed on the corner of the cornfield and the hardwoods, which naturally became an intersection of traveling deer. Scouting had shown the deer would be in the CRP field before daylight and then move into the corn to bed. As I began my walk down the edge of the field opening morning, realization set in that they had cut the first 15 rows of corn. Terror struck my body but any backup plans would be too late in the making; the best idea was to make due with what I had. I sat in my tree stand stunned, wondering if it would even be worth the hours I would spend hunting that morning. Upon daybreak, rain began to fall and added to my pessimistic attitude. To my surprise deer began to filter out of the hardwoods right in front of me. One, two, three, I counted. A doe and her fawns crossed within range to bed in the cornfield, exactly as my plans intended. With the lack of deer movement, the morning began to drag on until I heard the stone of the railroad track fall down the bank. During the slow turn of my head a buck had already crossed the tracks and was headed into the cornfield 45 yards away. With only God on my side, the buck decided it was too early for a nap and walked down the edge of the cornfield. I told myself the night before that I was only shooting a buck and he had to be larger than a spike. This guy fit the criteria and was closing in the distance. The buck then started his way back to cross over the railroad tracks and into the hardwoods. The fake bleat that came from my throat stopped the buck in his tracks. At full draw, I released the string while the buck arched in the air and ran away on his back legs. He crested the hill out of my sight, and I gave myself the satisfaction of an excited fist-pump through the air. My father joined me as I walked to the hill, seeing a large brown clump only yards away assured a clean kill. I thanked God for his beautiful creation and grabbed a hold to the white antlers. My first buck with a bow had four points and an eight inch spread.
The 2002 deer season brought my first opportunity to hunt this species with a firearm. Young but experienced, my hunting was done strictly on our own property. On our property the Days River winds from the NW corner to the SE corner. On the northern most edge a Balsam swamp covers the area. This is a great place to find bedded deer during the midday. My father and I followed the edge of the swamp to the North boundary of our land and then followed it West to the middle of the swamp. We started off side by side but I found myself tripling my dad’s paces in my excitement. The excitement soon settled but it was far from gone. We crept along the two-track and suddenly a deer stood up 35 yards away. My father positioned me in front of himself and I shoulder the 20 gauge Remington 870 Express received as my Christmas present the previous year. The shot echoed through the swamp to our cabin a half mile away ringing in my mother’s ears. With the attention back to the deer, it hadn’t moved a muscle, still standing exactly how it had before the shot. I looked back at my dad, to see the best reloading impersonation he could muster. The ‘chuk, chuk’ of the shotgun was heard by the deer but never located. This time the shot was placed perfectly in the ribcage and the deer bounded away. This resulted in my fasted 40 yard dash time recorded, the whole time thinking ‘please let there be blood.’ No blood, but a single set of tracks led to a dead doe 20 yards ahead of us.
October 2003 – PM – Weber’s: Kent Co., MI – Golden Eagle ProHawk Bow
I set out this year with high hopes of harvesting a deer with my bow. I practiced everyday on shot placement and composure. The year was slow until mid-October. The deer started to move into Weber’s land and the rut was beginning. The lakes stand had presented me with many shots at does, but I was waiting for a buck and did not want to risk scaring him off. This made me want to hunt Weber’s until the rut. Perched in my tree I was located between a ridge and the Rouge River. Two young does worked there way along the bottom of the ridge, directly below my tree at 15 yards. Nerves took over, but I kept in mind what I had practiced. I then drew my bow, and placed my arrow perfectly in the vitals. As she bolted towards the river her legs gave out and she was mine! Before my father even came to pick me up, she was gutted and drug to the ridge.
September 26, 2004 – PM – Rouge River State Land: Kent Co., MI – 12 gauge Remington 870 Wingmaster shotgun
Michigan’s youth deer hunt is a great opportunity to get a youngster a deer. I qualified for this hunt and was able to carry a gun into the field. The hunt began in the Chopin’s near Luther/Tustin, Michigan. We had seen some very mature bucks last year during the youth hunt and were hoping we could see them again. All of Saturday and Sunday morning ended with no deer sightings. Lack of deer led to our next decision, heading home to hunt the Rouge River State Land. Summer scouting showed some travel routes coming from a swamp to crop fields. My mother and I positioned ourselves along the ridge early in the afternoon. As time was winding down a deer showed heading to the crop fields. Our setup was perfect and one shot from the 12 gauge slug dropped him in his tracks and I harvested my first buck ever. The buck sported five points with 9 ½” spread.
November 19/20, 2005 – PM/AM – Indian Lakes: Kent Co., MI – 12 gauge Remington 870 Wingmaster shotgun
This year I hunted Weber’s exclusively and the majority of my buck sightings were seen here. Several hunts during the bow season resulted in very close calls but no dead deer. When the rut started getting serious the deer disappeared from the area – as did I. Knowing that the strait between Indian Lakes is always a reliable rut location, I climbed the wooden platform the next possible day (weather and wind pending). Awaiting dusk, I began second guessing the decision of not hunting Weber’s. That thought vanished as the heartwarming splash of water drown in my ears. I remember thinking ‘every time I hear that splash the deer are coming on the trail directly below me.’ Still holding true, the does began to filter into the clearing next to the tree I was hunting from. The deer were browsing within 20 yards, and more deer were following on the trail to my West. As they filed into the clearing the unmistakable sound of a deep grunt followed them. That deep grunt meant one thing, a buck within shooting range. If the deer continued their original path I would have a 25 yard shot, but before they could do so a scent check told them something was not right. I was in a bad position with the eyes of the deer pinning me down to relatively no movement. The does then became very nervous and snorted twice. It was now or never, so I spun a 180 degree turn only to see a white rack sticking out of the timber. The rest was a blur with two loud bangs. Before I could even phone my father, he had his boots on and was out the door. Replaying everything in my head, I wondered if I even hit the monarch that I had just seen. When my father arrived, in complete darkness, we went to the place where I shot at the buck. “I shot at him right here,” I protested. There was no indication of a hit on the deer, when the flashlight shined upon a fresh hole in a sapling. “Where was your second and third shot?” My father questioned. Within yards I said, “He should have been right about here.” That is when we spotted white hair, blood, and fatty pieces of stomach tissue: every hunter’s nightmare. Being a Saturday night, we called it quits with plans to resume looking at midnight. The tracking was extremely difficult in very close quarters. It took hours to track the buck a mere 30 yards, only to have him circle back to the clearing. The only way we kept on the bucks trail was by finding bloody acorns that fell from the hole in his stomach. With near impossible tracking conditions and a stomach full of knots, the only option was to continue tracking in the morning.
The morning could not come soon enough and the night resulted in no sleep. We continued the search at eight o’clock Sunday morning, heading back to the last bloody acorn that was found. There was a small amount of patchy snow on the ground and it was melting quickly. Trailing the blood loss of the deer was not an option. Luckily we were able to recover some more acorns that had fallen from his stomach. Every inch of land we searched seemed to diminish the fate of finding the deer. At this point we were guessing, not tracking. After three hours of searching and covering less then 100 yards we came to two conclusions. The buck either crossed a housing development or circled behind a channel of the Upper Indian Lake. If either of these situations were true we would be unable to recover the deer. The fate of the monarch was gone, so we skirted the edge of the development back home. Flashbacks and ideas came to mind, but they were hopeless. Hopeless until my dad’s voice brought me back to reality. “There he is up by the house in the development!” The thought was impossible, but I followed him up near the yard. Only feet from the lawn lay the buck of my dreams. My father and I took hold of his antlers and drug him for almost 40 yards without stopping. Anyone could tell by the look on my face, the Acorn Buck was mine. I counted seven massive points along with a 13 ½” spread. Each antlers base had a circumference of 5 ¾”.
December 22, 2005 – PM – Weber’s: Kent Co., MI – 12 gauge Remington 870 Wingmaster shotgun
After shooting the Acorn Buck, I did little hunting around the house. We made our annual trip to the cabin. It was a tough year up there. With a doe tag in hand I began baiting Weber’s in December. As soon as the first cold front moved in, the deer hit the bait daily. My stand was placed in between the river bottom and the ridge. Deer would bed near the river and move to the ridge in the evening to feed. Late doe season would allow me to use a firearm from December 20th until the first of the New Year. It only took two hunts for my plan to become a success. The first hunt ended with no deer sightings but high hopes for the next day. With mild temperatures in the forecast, I knew the deer would be up and moving. Only an hour into the second hunt, two young deer and a mature doe appear. It was a great feeling to watch my setup unfold impeccably. The BuckHammer slug made a pass-thru dropping her in her tracks. With over an hour of daylight remaining, I leisurely gutted and drug the deer over the ridge with that same grin on my face.
October 27 / November 24, 2006 – PM – Camp: Delta Co., MI – Golden Eagle ProHawk Bow
This year presented my first opportunity to bow hunt the land around our cabin. The chance of seeing deer is great due to little hunting pressure until firearm season. My family and I were joined by some friends that planned to bird hunt the area. When hunting at our cabin, many options were available. Both public and private land is plentiful and inhabited with deer. I started out hunting private land around our cabin. With large buck rubs and community scrapes in the area, I knew I would see some deer. That statement proved to be true and I had encounters with numerous mature whitetails. During the evenings, our friends would get bored after they finished bird hunting, so we solved that problem by getting them in a tree on the state land. With no weapon in hand, he made the mile and a half ride by four-wheeler and proceeded to walk the remaining quarter mile. The area is so secluded that the deer seem to not know the difference of night and day. Within an hour on stand, a mature buck cautiously passed by within bow range. Before darkness closed in a bobcat trotted down a fallen cedar only 30 yards away. Upon returning to camp, we all shared stories from the day, and hearing about the state land buck intrigued me. The next day, I was the one making the 1 ¾ mile trip. It did not take long to hear the distinctive sound of an animal creeping along the runway. The first thing I noticed was the chocolate brown antlers through the sparse cedar tree, just as they were described the previous day. Since the buck was approaching quickly, I had troubles keeping my composure. The buck then began browsing inside 20 yards and gave me the time I needed to calm down. Having the ability to capture this moment in memory was as good as the kill. The buck continued his path and I was presented with a 15 yard broadside shot. When I drew the string of my bow, the buck’s sixth sense made my presence known. The shot felt solid, and the buck bound 30 yards away, only to stop and flicker his tail. Usually, this is indication of a bad shot and looking at the slimy film on my arrow I knew the deer deserved at least 8 hours before I should pursue it. My father hunted the next morning on the private land without success. My mother, father and I were joined by our local hunting partner in hopes of finding the buck I connected with. I knew the shot was fatal, but would we have the ability to find him? We were left with no blood trail in the thickest cedar swamp you can imagine; unable of finding the buck.
Over our annual visit to our cabin during the Michigan firearm deer season, I had another chance to look for what was left of the deer. Knowing that the predators had done away with the meat, the recovery of the antlers could give the deer the justice it deserved. Luckily, my father and I tagged two beautiful bucks earlier in the firearm season giving us some down time to explore. We had high hopes of finding the carcass for two reasons: the foliage on the brush had fallen and the predators would have trails to the dead deer. We began our grid search at the point of which we lost the blood trail of the deer in October. Two deer trails split the cedar swamp and another ran perpendicular to a high knoll. When the trails split, I continued in the swamp and my father followed up the knoll. Shortly I heard my father hollering, so I abandon my search and joined him. Deer hair covered the ground and the carcass lay a short distance away under a deadfall. The search ended in a success. It was a complicated recovery and many valuable lessons were learned. After getting the skull and antlers home, we measured an 11 ¾” spread with six countable points.
November 22, 2006 – PM – Camp: Delta Co., MI - .270 Savage Model 111
The 2006 firearm deer season began with disappointment because of the lost buck from bow hunting 19 days earlier. I hunted around the house with little success and noticed a lack in deer movement. I could only hope the deer up north were rutting harder. I planned on hunting some pastures and crop fields down the road from our cabin over the week of Thanksgiving. The location is in the middle of some cedar swamps and a creek bottom. This area is an optimal spot for pre-rut and rut times. My father shot a buck from the same stand I was hunting out of opening morning. The first day I was able to hunt here was November 22nd. The morning hunt produced one doe, but the day was not over. Sitting in camp was boring, so I made a bold move and decided to head out to the stand early. Surprisingly, I saw deer out in fields on the drive to my stand. This excitement continued when a deer fed in the pasture south of my stand approximately 200 yards away. I noted the time on my watch: 2:26 PM. With my attention back to preparing for the evening sit, I pulled my gun up the string and loaded a cartridge into the chamber. Before I could replace my gloves over my hands, I heard something crunching along the two-track heading right at me. The area from which the deer was coming is known for a quality community scrape. I hardly had enough time to raise my rifle before the massive body appeared through the underbrush. The CoreLokt bullet raced home, leaving the buck on his death run. Glancing back to my watch, five minutes had passed, it read 2:31 PM. With hours before dusk, I gave the beast time to expire before following a two foot wide blood trail directly to him. After thanking God for the animal I harvested I went back with great news for the family. My father and I got the buck on a scale and it showed 190 lbs gutted, with seven points and a 15 ¼” spread.
December 28/29, 2006 – PM/AM – Indian Lakes: Kent Co., MI – 20 gauge Remington 870 Express
This year December was rather easy on the deer. Late and little amounts of snow left the deer with plenty of food to eat, though the deer frequently hit the bait pile between the lakes. This was good news to me because usually the snowfall between the lakes restricts deer from bedding there. I went out bow hunting once after firearm season and drew back on a large doe. She became skittish and was much too alert for an ethical shot. She stayed in the area however, and my first opportunity to hunt again brought her down the same trail. This time I was equipped with a shotgun during the late doe season. She was no more than 20 yards when I squeezed the safety to the fire position. I placed the bead behind her shoulder and fired a single shot. She ran out of sight, but I could not imagine she was going far. Upon inspection of the point at which I shot her, white hair left me guessing about my shot placement. I tracked for about 20 yards and knew she would be dead in the morning.
The next day I continued my search from the last spot of blood and hair. The snow made an easy track for the remaining 80 yards. Looking at the exit hole from the bullet near the deer’s brisket explained the white hair I found while tracking and the bullet passed through the vitals.
October 1, 2007 – AM – Bradford’s: Kent Co., MI – Golden Eagle ProHawk Bow
Early season scouting in September left me with no question on where I would be hunting opening morning of bow season. Little deer sign was found at Weber’s or Indian Lakes, but the cornfield on Bradford’s farm was heavily populated by deer. My tree stand nearly hung over the railroad tracks. The railroad grade on Bradford’s property splits the 115 acre farm in half and the cornfield covers 30 acres on the west side. On the opposite side of the railroad tracks is a CRP field beside thick hardwoods. My tree stand was placed on the corner of the cornfield and the hardwoods, which naturally became an intersection of traveling deer. Scouting had shown the deer would be in the CRP field before daylight and then move into the corn to bed. As I began my walk down the edge of the field opening morning, realization set in that they had cut the first 15 rows of corn. Terror struck my body but any backup plans would be too late in the making; the best idea was to make due with what I had. I sat in my tree stand stunned, wondering if it would even be worth the hours I would spend hunting that morning. Upon daybreak, rain began to fall and added to my pessimistic attitude. To my surprise deer began to filter out of the hardwoods right in front of me. One, two, three, I counted. A doe and her fawns crossed within range to bed in the cornfield, exactly as my plans intended. With the lack of deer movement, the morning began to drag on until I heard the stone of the railroad track fall down the bank. During the slow turn of my head a buck had already crossed the tracks and was headed into the cornfield 45 yards away. With only God on my side, the buck decided it was too early for a nap and walked down the edge of the cornfield. I told myself the night before that I was only shooting a buck and he had to be larger than a spike. This guy fit the criteria and was closing in the distance. The buck then started his way back to cross over the railroad tracks and into the hardwoods. The fake bleat that came from my throat stopped the buck in his tracks. At full draw, I released the string while the buck arched in the air and ran away on his back legs. He crested the hill out of my sight, and I gave myself the satisfaction of an excited fist-pump through the air. My father joined me as I walked to the hill, seeing a large brown clump only yards away assured a clean kill. I thanked God for his beautiful creation and grabbed a hold to the white antlers. My first buck with a bow had four points and an eight inch spread.
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RugerM77.270
Whitetail Deer Hunting
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03-21-2009 02:56 AM
