I made this blog to tell about my experiences and thoughts while sharing products that have worked for me, being a quadriplegic hunter, fisherman and outdoorsman. It will mostly be everything hunting but with a little life mixed in.
Some of you may know that I have been giving away trigger
mechanisms that we invented for my rifles, crossbows and shotguns. If you don't
know the story click on this link. I only have three or four triggers left to
give away. I keep track of where I am sending them and save the responses that
I get. In the last response, this thank you that was added sparked me to write
this blog.
"Clint, I rewatched your video on YouTube and I have to say, you
do one hell of a good job when it comes to shooting. Your injury must be kind
of high, I am sure that along with your ideas of what will and what wouldn't
work, you have some pretty good family or friends that work with you to come up
with ideas that work.I am a C5-6 quad and have good movement in my arms, no
finger movement. My Dad and I have come up with some shooting apparatuses, but
nothing like yours.I take my hat off to you and whoever's helps you come up
with the ideas you use to shoot.The regular able bodied shooter has nothing on you."
That thank you e-mail made me look back again and appreciate
everything that everyone has done for me. I truly have the best support. I have
the best family, friends and girlfriend that a lucky guy in a wheelchair could ask
for.
In fact, my whole blog is pretty much a thank you for
everyone who helps me do my stuff and things. In every blog entry one of my
family or friends is helping me do something. Without any of this support I
would not be me. I want to thank all of you for letting me be me. You guys
don't suck.
I remember getting introduced to the great outdoors from
many different people, not just family. I wish I had more pictures from these events
to share, but sometimes I think it is good there aren't as many pictures because
without the pictures that helps to remember those great times. I think it makes
the memories more vivid and also more awesome.
I remember the first time I was introduced to anyone
shooting a bow was when I was at my friend Cody's place in town and his oldest
brother Travis was in the backyard practicing shooting his bow at a target. A
year or two later it was also with my friend Cody that I think I really
developed my passion for bow hunting. We were sitting at his house when his
brother Josh (Toehead) and one of their family friends Trevor asked Cody and me
if we wanted to come push some river bottom for them. I really didn't have a
clue what we were in for but Cody was gung ho so I went along. I think we were around
12 or 13 when this event took place.
I remember we were headed west on 46 when Trevor and
Toehead explained to us where we were going and what we would do. We were
headed to the trap. This is an oxbow of land almost entirely surrounded by the
Sheyenne River around the Kathryn area. The trap is where the river circles
around and almost touches itself. Where the water almost touches itself, there is
a thin piece of land that only allows a narrow trail, barely walkable in
between the almost island and the mainland. The trap is almost entirely wooded
and is a deer haven. Trevor explained to us that Cody and I would start walking,
one close to the river, the other would be in a little bit and push the trees
in a circle to hopefully send the deer out to the trap where Toehead and Trevor
would hopefully get a shot.
I remember the whole experience was awesome. Being with
two older guys that we looked up to, going to this magical place where big deer
were possible and walking through the woods in an area I had never been before
developed my love for the not only hunting but bow hunting in particular. I
think Cody and I pushed a dozen or so deer out through the trap that day and I
even think Trevor took a shot but there was no blood shed. I think we walked a
couple shelter belts on the way back to Enderlin. But neither of the older guys
was successful. But the stories and the comradery that was shared clinched it
for me. It wasn't about the kill, it never is. I didn't even have a bow in my
hand. Just being there, out there with nature at that time in that spot was
perfect for me.
I remember less than two years later I was saving up my
money to buy my own bow. That is where the passion or some might say obsession began.
I remember my first ever fishing trip when we traveled to
Canada. I actually went there twice, two years in a row when I was 13 and 14
years of age. On the first trip it was Scott, Spencer, Logan, Floyd, Bob, Joe,
Ben and I. The second trip included Scott, Spencer, Logan, Don B, Danny, Joe,
Ben and I. Some of the next few stories I can't remember what happened on what
trip, I am getting old.
I remembered both times we went to the village of Minaki in
the province of Ontario at the resort called Paradise Cove. The town is located
on the Winnipeg River system. It doesn't look like a river though, thousands of
islands surrounded by numerous lakes and bays. We were fishing mainly for
walleye but I believe I caught mostly smallmouth bass. There was also some
northern caught. But on both trips it was good that we brought along food
because as always the resort owner said, "You guys should've been here
last week. The fish were jumping in the boat!"
The amount of memories made here are too numerous to
mention.
I remember driving East on 46 at the crack ass of dawn
and seeing all of the fields covered in water. The night before we got several
inches of rain and that was the summer when the wet cycle began. Actually when
we got to Fargo and after we picked up Scott and the boys, we couldn't go
underneath any of the overpasses on I-29 because they were all flooded. Even
when we were on the frontage road by Nodak the boat actually started to float
off of the trailer because the water was so high. Good times. We almost turned
around but glad we didn't.
I remember the night before down at Joe's eating so much
side pork that I wasn't able to eat side pork again until about a year and a
half ago. Burping and farting side pork in a Ford F150, single cab pickup with
three other guys for seven hours kind of put me off of side pork for 25 years
or so. Sidebar: That pickup blew up on the way home. We had to add a quart of
oil every hundred miles. Smoking good it was. The next summer we went through
bags of pistachios on the way up and the way down to Canada. I still haven't
eaten any of those since. That reminds me, the only cassette Scott had in his
suburban was Hank Williams Junior's greatest hits volume one. Kaw-Liga, ooh… I
still know all of those songs word for word and it is still one of my favorite
albums of all time.
I remember the second trip to Canada and having my
drivers permit. I started driving South of the border around Pembina. The older
guys thought getting through the border with a 14-year-old driving would go a
lot smoother. They were correct. The border patrol just asked me a couple
questions and in no time we were in Canada. They didn't even check for the
illegal bait that was under my cousin while he was sleeping. They also didn't
even check for the extra cases of beer. Good thing I didn't look like a
smuggler at 14. Please don't send the Canadian Mounties after us, I believe the
statute of limitations has passed anyway. Hopefully…
Logan, Spencer, Ben and I with our days catch.
I remember driving through the worst torrential downpour
I have ever witnessed in my life on a two-lane highway somewhere in Ontario,
North of Lake of the Woods. It was so bad that they made me pull over to the
side of the road. It came down so hard it sounded like hail. But there was no
hail. The downpour didn't last that long but I think we were pulled over for
about ten minutes. When we started driving again it felt like I was swerving
all over the road, even my passengers were beginning to worry if there was something
wrong with me. Then my cousin Scott said, "Pull over again at the next
intersection I want to check something." Once he got back to the back of
the trailer he pulled the plug from the boat. Everybody got out of the suburban
and laughed at the scene, except for me. There was so much water in the boat
that the water was almost starting to go over the sides. No wonder why I was
getting jerked around and was swerving. That is a lot of weight and movement
when you don't know it is there. Once the boat was done peeing, I was back in
the driver seat all the way to Minaki. Good times.
I remember driving through the maze of islands going to
sand beach. It was a mythical place that my uncle Floyd used to tell us about
where they caught hundreds and hundreds of walleye. I remember trying to find a
lake called Lost Lake amongst these thousands of islands. The water was low so
we had to lift the motor all the way up to dodge the submerged rocks while
making our way into hidden treasure. It would be a safe bet to say not many
have been through this passage and on that lake. That's neat.
Uncle Floyd, Spencer, Uncle Joe, Logan, myself and Ben at sand beach.
I remember trying to find landmarks on our way to and
from fishing so we wouldn't get lost. I remember Scott, Bob, Spencer and Logan
getting lost for an hour or two on their way back to the cabin. But they claim
they knew exactly where they were. Ha. Good times.
I remember one morning flying through islands in Floyd's
new boat when all of a sudden he started going straight towards one of the
islands. Joe and I looked at each other concerned and about that time Floyd
pulled back on the throttle as he made his way to the front of the boat. As he
jumped onto shore with his cowboy boots, as the hull of the boat was grinding
on the solid rock shore and as he grabbed for the toilet paper he yelled,
"I got the scours!" I still laugh when I hear that story. Too much
syrup. Good times.
I remember the fishing was always great but the catching,
not so much. I remember going back into a shallow bay throwing daredevils and
watching either the biggest northern or a muskie follow my lure numerous times
with no strike. I wish I knew the figure 8 retrieval back then. I remember
seeing my first waterfall. I remember seeing my first bear tracks that turned out
to be my cousins pulling a trick on me. I remember homo milk. I remember the
numerous Bode stories. I remember a
lot of firsts on these Canadian fishing trips. I will remember them forever.
I remember the first time I went down to Todd's. His
place is South of 27 along the Sheyenne River. Talk about deer heaven. I had
never seen so many deers. Walking through that river bottoms that first time
made me feel like Daniel Boone or Davy Crockett. The hunting down there is top
notch and the habitat is the best around. The first time I was down there I was
just a pusher. I didn't own a bow at that time. This time it was Todd, Cody,
Toehead, Christopher and I. We pretty much just stumbled around and pushed deer
in and out of the trees along the river in the middle of December. I know we
crossed the frozen Sheyenne a couple times. I can remember this day like it was
yesterday. It was a blast. Nobody got a shot that day with their bow but that
didn't dampen the awesome time.
I remember going duck hunting for the first time with my
single shot 16gauge. I did not have a driver’s license at the time and I didn't
have the guts yet to steal the Cavalier. I think I was around 13 years old. I
went with one of my dad's buddies, George. He was a waterfowl hunter. He has
passed on now. But every time I saw him at the VFW we always had that in
common. We never shot a duck that day but we did jump a couple roosts. I should
have thanked him before he passed on. He was a good guy.
I remember fishing on the Maple with CL and Savage. This
wasn't my first time fishing of course but this is the actual first time I
remember. I was also with my cousin Ben. He is a couple years younger than I and
I think I was 11 at the time. I do remember it was entertaining. We were
fishing by the old pink house and of course we were fishing for northerns. The
only thing I caught or I should say snagged that day was a huge snapping
turtle. I remember I was on the East side of the river South of the bridge. I
thought I snagged a log or something. But eventually there was a prehistoric,
dinosaur looking head slowly popping out of the water staring at me with its
jaws wide open. I could see my red and white daredevil hooked in its mouth. As
soon as Savage saw his head popping out of the water he was yelling, "Don't
let him get away!" Then Savage started running from the other side of the
river, across the bridge tripping and fumbling along the river bank trying to
get to my fishing pole. Of course as soon as he got to me the line snapped and
the prehistoric monster slowly sunk into the murky Maple. I have always
wondered if that turtle is still alive. It is crazy to think that that turtle still
could be alive. Scary bastages. Or maybe Savage cooked him up in the soup pot.
That turtle soup is good stuff.
I remember my first time hunting mourning doves with CL.
He shot a couple doves the night before, cleaned them and we used their
carcasses for decoys. I thought he was crazy. But he shoved a couple sticks in
their bodies and placed them on bush by a fence line overlooking the creek that
runs by Stordalen's. It wasn't more than a couple minutes and the birds were
flocking in. I don't think I shot any that day. I know I didn't. But CL filled
his limit and we had mourning dove on toast that night. Damn those birds are
tasty. Lightly coated in flour, fried in butter and they are melt in your mouth
tasty.
I remembered checking one of the trap lines with my
cousin Steve and Don B. I believe it was South of Enderlin somewhere. I was
only along with them once while checking the line. But it was memorable. Any
time with these two characters is memorable, trust me. After that experience I
went and bought some gopher traps the next spring. I didn't do so hot, but I
had fun.
I remember my first time pheasant hunting with my cousin
Jason (Spooy) and one of his buddies Dennis. Before we went out they tested my
shooting skills with my old single shot 16gauge. One of them had a bottle of
snoose juice. They got me ready, stood behind me, then threw the plastic bottle
up in the air and yelled rooster. The bottle only when about 10 yards and I
shot. Then we went and inspected the bottle. There was only about a handful of
BB holes in the bottle but they both said, "Good enough." That day I
was treated more like a flushing dog but I did not care. I was one of the guys
that day. I was eight years younger but it didn't matter.
I remember walking one cornfield with Dennis and Jason that
day. We only kicked out one rooster on the walk which jumped up right in front
of me. By the time I collected my thoughts, I didn't pull the trigger because
the rooster was too far away. When we got back to Jason's pickup, Barry (Door
Slammer) pulled up in his pickup. He first said, "Why didn't you shoot
Clint?" I told him I thought it was too far away. He told me, "You can't
hit em if you don't shoot." Wiser words have never been spoken. He then
reminded us of the regulations of not being able to hunt corn fields when they
are unharvested. I had no clue. Jason and Dennis just laughed. Good times.
This photo is from 2009.
I remember the first time I walked the Maple River
northeast of Enderlin. My cousin Jason and a couple of his buddies had me push
the river bottom from Jesse's to Jerry's. I remember there were deer going in every
direction. I think it was either Brady or Door Slammer who were walking with
me. Nobody got a deer that they but it was an experience. I have hunted that
parcel of land many times since this memory. In fact, that is the same place
where I shot my first deer with a crossbow. The whole valley now is a
wasteland. It is difficult to even drive through that area for me. All of the
trees are gone or dead. This is because of the Maple River Dam that was erected
and completed in 2007. It still makes me angry in my facial region. Anyways, I
digress.
I remember looking up to these guys in my hunting and
fishing education. They were older, maybe not so much wiser but they knew more
than I. A lot more than I and I wanted to learn. I think every young boy goes
through the same thing growing up in the country. Hunting and fishing was life.
It teaches you a lot of valuable stuff and things. Life without these things is
still life but not as pleasurable. Most of these events took place in the early
90s. There were no hunting channels, there was just Tony Dean, Babe Winkelmann
and Marty Stouffer to name a few. Thumbing through Outdoor Life magazine made
the imagination run wild with big bucks and stringers full of fish. You needed
to learn from the older guys or needed to get your knowledge from reading. A
pair of blue jeans and some hand-me-down Army camouflage was all the hunting
attire anyone needed in those days. It was a simpler time. Man that makes me
feel old saying that. But it was.
I remember these times in the middle of winter staring
out the window. I remember these times when I am in my hunting blind. I
remember these times when I am in the hospital. I remember these times a lot. These
were good times. I remember these days like they were yesterday. I hope kids
these days still have memories like these to look back on. It wasn't just about
the kill. It was about the experience. I don't think I ever witnessed anyone
kill a deer with a bow until I did when I was 18. It was about the comradery.
It was about the learning. It was about the anticipation. It was about the
thrill of what could be. It was fuck awesome.
I made this video explaining my wheelchair accessible
pickup this fall and decided to put it on YouTube. A little while ago ATConversions contacted me and wanted to know if they could use it for advertising. Of course
I agreed and now it is live.
I would like to thank Sarah, my vid cam chick. We
actually recorded the video in one take, winning. I would also like to thank
everyone who made this pickup possible. I know I have thanked you all before
but there will never be enough thanks from me.
I had to put down Otis a week ago. Everybody tells me it
was for the best. I knew it was the right thing to do but I still question it.
I still turn the volume down when there's a dog barking
because Otis would freak out and start baying. I still think of him when I see
the UPS man. Otis hated his guts and livers. But he loved everyone else.
I am going to miss him this spring, summer and fall. You
see I would take him for walks or actually some might say he would take me for
walks around the yard, down the driveways and through the paths in the shelter
belt.
When he saw the leash and pole mechanism I would attach to my wheelchair
he would always be willing and be raring to go. He would actually be raring
like a horse and chomping at the bit.
He was brought to me when he was a little over one year
old. He left me when he was a little over 13. We had a good run, a lot of good
runs. But his last run wasn't the same. He didn't even want to go. I knew he
wasn't the same and wasn't going to be the same.
I miss the sound of his toenails on the hardwood floor.
Click, click, click, click…
His face was gray and he was a little bit slower but he
still acted like a pup.
He cried when I left the house, every time. He ran around
like an idiot every time I came home, every time.
He wasn't perfect, actually far from it. He would only do
something if he knew a treat was in his future. But that didn't matter to me.
He was my little buddy.
Putting him down was one of the hardest things I've ever
had to do. It sucked.
I knew November 20 was going to be a busy day of stuff
and things. I didn't realize how busy. I got in the chair around 11:30 AM.
While I was having some lunch I looked outside and I thought to myself, "Today
looks like a buck day." After lunch we burned down to Lisbon because I had
a physical therapy appointment and after that I decided to get my hairs cut. In
the back of my mind I knew I wanted to go hunting when I got home but I didn't
know if I would have time. While I was getting my haircut, Rick the barber and
I started having a conversation about hunting. I knew right then I was going to
go hunting when I got home.
When I got home I had to tilt back in my wheelchair for
my required 10 minutes. As soon as I was done I washed my hair quick and
started getting dressed for the evening hunt. The temperature was around 35°,
it was an overcast, dank day when I headed out to the blind north of the house
around 3:30 PM.
This being my being my 13th sit of the year, and I think
eighth time sitting north of the house in my pop-up blind, I pretty much knew
the routine of the deer. But four days before, the corn that was surrounding
the farmstead was harvested so I didn't know for sure how that would change the
deer movement. I sat the week before during the snow storm and had deer moving
the whole time. But that was when the corn was standing. All I knew was that
the rut was hot and heavy. The trail cam that I have set up next to the blind
has been capturing deer steady for about 10 days. There were at least nine
different bucks that have showed up, but mostly nocturnal. I just needed one of
them to get twitterpated and make a mistake.
The deer usually come in around four thirtyish. So as
that time passed I was beginning to wonder if I was going to see a deer. I
thought maybe I was making too much noise trying to muffle my coughs because I
was just coming off of a head cold. Then at 4:50 PM, I looked to my west where
the deer usually come from and I saw the old lady skinhead. One of those wise,
smart does that usually bust you if you make a mistake. Usually she has her
fawn with their but tonight she did not. She also did something unusual,
instead of working her way in between the two shelterbelts to the east she took a right turn and trotted south into the
old shelter belt and decided to lie down. This was very strange. But I soon
realized why.
I am glad I put a cam right here. This is him when he came in. The time is an hour off.
It wasn't 10 seconds after she laid down I saw antlers
coming from the west. I recognized him right away. A nice 4 x 4 that I have had
on trail cam numerous times throughout the fall. I thought for sure he would
follow the old lady into the bedding area but she wasn't having none of it. We
have all been there. Anyway, he walked straight towards the bait which was within
10 yards directly in front of me. The problem was he was facing right at me. He
would eat and put his head up and look right at me. He had no clue I was there.
The wind was at his back and blowing right in my face. I could smell him. He
was rutted up. He even did that thing when they rub their glands together on
their back knees. He was full on twitterpated. The problem was, he wasn't
moving in any direction. Just eating and staring my direction. It felt like
forever but it always does when you can't move an inch knowing you will get
busted if you did.
This is the fawn as she is circling back to the west. At this point the buck is following her. You can make out the white of his belly in the trees. He follows her back out of the belt.
All of a sudden his back legs started to work their way
south and he was moving into the direction of a better shot. But he was still
quartering towards me. Not good. I wanted him to be perpendicular. I didn't
want to blow this. All of a sudden I noticed the old lady's fawn trotting
through the new shelter belt on the north side of us. She had her tail down but
made two soft bleats. I thought she was going to entice him away, forever. The
4 x 4's head went on a swivel and he stepped to the north to see what was up.
He grunted a couple times and became perpendicular. It was a perfect shot, but
right when I was reaching for the trigger with my right arm he took off to the
east and followed the little one. But like her mom she wasn't wanting any either.
I thought my opportunity was gone. My brain was spinning.
It was a perfect shot but it was just too quick for me to get on him, aim and
pull the trigger. All of a sudden I heard another grunt. He was coming back. I
couldn't see to my east because I have that window in the blind covered. But I
could tell he is getting close. Then all of a sudden he was perfectly broadside
standing within 10 yards of me, facing west this time. He put his head down and
I lined up my crosshairs right behind his shoulder, waiting for him to put his
head up. As soon as he lifted his head I took the shot. I don't even remember
the pull of the trigger. It was one of those shots. You just know it was good.
The 4 x 4 after the shot, heading west while nosediving.
The next thing I knew I heard that big crack and he
nosedived hard into the ground. I knew I skewered him and I was hoping he would
go down. He ran to the west and I lost track of him. But it sounded like he
crashed in the slough which isn't more than 50 yards away. I looked down at my
phone and it said 4:58 PM. All that took place in under ten minutes. That is
good stuff.
There was good light left, sunset was 5:26 PM. So first I
called mom at the house, which is only about 80 yards away from where I was
sitting. She knew something was up, I said, "I just smoked a buck, a big
buck!" She was excited. I could hear it in her voice. I told her she could
come out as soon as she got some orange on and to make sure to bring a
flashlight. As soon as I got off the phone with her I needed to contact a
tracker. My regular tracker Don B was out west chasing mule deer. So I first
called Lawrence. No answer. Then I called Trauty. No answer. Then I tried them
both again. No answer. Then I remembered that Brad should be done with work. As
soon as he answered he knew why I was calling. I told him not to get excited
but I think I killed a buck. I told him what happened and he said, "Oh
yeah, he is dead."
The Muzzy Trocar broadheads aftermath.
As soon as I got off the phone with him I looked to the
west and I could see red everywhere. I didn't notice this right after the shot
in all of the excitement. Where he first nosedived I could tell that he wasn't
going to survive very long. Then mom got out there and she lifted the blind so
I could drive my wheelchair out. As soon as I got out of the darkness of the
blind I was feeling pretty confident with the scene in front of me that we were
going to find him.
The unsettled dirt is where he was standing. Just under 10 yards to my Primos-The Club
blind with Mossy Oak Break-Up.
It seemed like it took forever for Brad to get out there
but it was the anticipation that was killing me. It was only about a half-hour.
He came with my sisters. I could tell it wasn't one of their new pickups. It
was the 86 Nissan. The next thing I knew I could hear it driving through the
stubble field banging and a clanging. It sounded like it was going to fall
apart. Anyway, Brad made his way towards me from the west and asked me where it
went. He said he hasn't seen any blood yet, as he was walking towards me. My
guts dropped. I knew the 4 x 4 had of went that way. Then he said oh, here is some
blood, a lot of blood. He turned around and the buck was laying right there.
The reason why he didn't see any blood on his way there was because it didn't
make it that far. It only ran about 30 yards and crashed. I'm sure glad I
switched to Muzzy Trocar broadheads with a bigger cutting diameter. That thing
did its job. I have to confess, I only took three practice shots with the new
broadheads but they all hit the mark at 20 yards.
Then the excitement took over. I got to admit I got a
little verklempt. This is the biggest buck I have ever shot. That isn't ever my
goal, to shoot the biggest but it doesn't hurt when it happens. Then of course
the congratulations were given and pictures were taken. That's when the gutting
crew took over. It was Randi's first time seeing this process. She took it like
a champ. Shelie has gutted numerous deer. They held the deer secure while Brad
did the dirty business. When we were done they put it in the back of the
Nissan, I made a cocktail in the house, mom and I got in the pickup and we
headed to town to raise some hell. Dad was going to be at the meat locker when
we got there. It was a family affair. Good times.
After the buck was hanging in the locker we went to the
Spare Time for a celebratory drink or two. I would like to thank mom and dad
for taking me hunting whenever I want. I would like to thank Don B for setting
up my trail cams and hunting spots. I would like to thank my gut crew Brad,
Shelie and Randi. I would like to thank the other landowners whose land I hunt
on. I always have an option of where I can hunt and I truly appreciate that. I
truly have the best family and friends. You all don't suck.
Last night I hunted in a new spot. It has been a spot I
have wanted to hunt for a long time. It is one of those big old wide shelter
belts. I am talking like 10 tree rows wide with the old Cottonwood trees
standing tall in the middle. One of those shelter belts that are disappearing
on the landscape. This spot is only a couple hundred yards from my house. But
last night was the first time I hunted this spot.
I could've hunted
here last year but for medical reasons I couldn't get out. My friend found a
good level place in the tree rows where I could get my wheelchair in and out
easily. He also cleaned out all of the old, dead branches out of the way to
make a clearing for my wheelchair and shooting lanes. Thanks.
This year with my medical problems behind me I was going
to be able to hunt this new spot. From the Moultrie trail cam pictures last
year we knew it was going to be good. There were decent bucks and there were a
lot of them. The trail cam pictures this year did not disappoint. The deer were
bigger and more plentiful.
Another friend, the landowner left part of his field
along the belt in wheat stubble instead of chisel plowing it up. This makes it
a lot easier for me to get a vehicle to where I want to go and get my chair to
where I need to be. Thanks.
Anyway, last night was the first time being in this
shelter belt for a while. I checked it out about a month ago and then it
decided to snow, so I had to wait for it to dry out. When I was going into the
belt the first thing I noticed was a fresh scrape about 20 feet in front of me
on the path going into the clearing. Not wanting to disturb it I decided to
back in to some bushes to give myself a backdrop so I wouldn't be silhouetted.
I checked out my shooting lanes and decided this spot would work. So I had my
mom wrap me in my Mossy Oak burlap with a fresh earth scent wafer, then I had
her douse the scrape and set up a scent wick both sprayed with Buck Bomb-Doe
Pee. Man I love the smell of fresh dirt and deer urine. They should make cologne
out of that combination. The last thing I have someone do is put an arrow in my
Carbon Express Intercept crossbow and make sure the safety switch is off so I
am cocked, locked and ready to rock.
This is my favorite time, when I am all alone. I am by
myself with nature until I call someone to come and get me. For the next couple
hours it is just me watching the blue jays squawk, watching the squirrels annoy
me, hearing the mice rustle under the leaves and hopefully seeing a deer. This
is also my time to do my reflecting on what has happened, some might say
meditating would be a better word. I think they are right. It is my alone time.
You also think about the future and what might be, while waiting for Mr. Big to
show his face.
It was a perfect night. It was a brisk, clear blue sky,
perfect wind with the smell of autumn in my face kind of night. The wind was in
my face, coming from the Southeast. The sunset was behind me and the harvest
moon was rising in front of me.
The moment he came in the belt. The only picture I got of him that night.
All of the sudden around 6:20 PM I could hear something
coming from the corn, which is still standing on the South side of the belt.
Sunset was right at 6:28 PM. The anticipation is what gets me. You never know
what's going to show up. This time it was a doe and a yearling. They looked like
they were going to come right in. And they did. They came within 20 feet and
milled around without a clue I was there for a good 15 minutes. Sitting on the
ground having animals that close and having them have no idea you are there is
something everyone should experience. The older doe stared at me for a little
while but with the wind at her back she had no clue and she settled right down.
Play the wind my friends and you will be rewarded.
The same buck from the night before.
Then I could hear something else walking along the belt.
It was coming from the east. The does became alert. Bobbing their heads up and
down like they do when they know something is up. All of a sudden I heard a
faint grunt. One of those grunts you don't hear unless you are really focused.
One of those grunts you think you made up in your head. But the next thing I
saw was a buck working his way into the belt with his nose on the ground.
Pre-rut is on. I could tell he was a nice 4 x 4, one that I have had on camera.
If he gave me the opportunity I would let my Muzzy Trocar broadhead fly. But
the opportunity was not presented. He kept his head down and walked straight
towards the older doe and she took off like a raped ape heading East down the
belt with the yearling following shortly after. The buck put his head up for a
second just to give me a look at his rack, and then he put his head down and
chased after the females. What a rush. The next thing I knew, it was dark.
I could've shot both does on this night. I could've taken
a bad shot at the buck on this night. But that isn't the reason I hunt. The
reason why I hunt is because I can. It is about the hunt. It is not about the
kill.
These are just some of the reasons why I hunt. It's for
these reasons and more. It is the reason why I do all of the preseason. It is
the reason why I set up all of the trail cams. It is the reason for all of the
target practice. It takes dedication and some skill. But it is mostly luck, perseverance
and time spent in the woods. These are reasons why I hunt.
I was born to do this. I will do this until I can't.
These are the reasons why I hunt. To shoot one with antlers is a bonus. To fill
the freezer is a bonus. It is a very tasty bonus, but still a bonus. But it is
not the reason why I hunt. The reason why I hunt is because I am a hunter. And
I don't apologize for that.
In the fall of 2013 I did not bow hunt that much - it was
only on my sixth outing…. The main reason was because I was working on my new
crossbow, fine tuning it to my liking. I also went pronghorn hunting in Wyoming
that year - both good reasons in my book.
The first three nights I went hunting right north of our
farmstead and I did not see one deer. I live in the country 7 miles away from
the nearest town in southeast North Dakota. So I called up my friend Kevin and
asked if I could hunt down on his place. He of course said, "Why haven't
you been down here already?" I have hunted on his place for years and have
always had good luck. They live right along the river and it is a deer's paradise.
So the first night down there I went and sat in a low tower
which is accessible and sits off the ground about 5 feet. I like to sit there
first to see what is moving because I can see every corner of the field. The
field that year was seeded into alfalfa. That first night I saw a lot of deer
and figured out where they were moving. The best part was that they were moving
in my favorite spot. I have shot two bucks there in the past. Kevin calls it
Clint's spot - I call it the tall pines because of the six or seven rows of
pines that run about 60 yards long. On one end the deer like to funnel through
from their bedding area to the feeding area. I like it because it is easy for
me to get into and I can pretty much sit somewhere in that bunch of pines
depending on the wind direction.
On November 1, the first day, I had quite a few deer within
40 yards but no shots. Had one big 4 x 4 within 10 yards of me but I was busted
by him before he got in front of me. He was smart, he knew something wasn't
right, circled around and winded me. I could not go out that Saturday and
Sunday so I had to think about how I screwed up on that 4 x 4 for two days.
But on that Monday, luck was on my side and everything came
together. I got into my spot around 3 PM. I actually scared out two deer while
getting out of the van. Around 4 PM the does started coming out of the bedding
area. There were about 10 of them when all of a sudden I heard grunting. Two
little bucks started chasing around the does. There were deer running
everywhere. The wind was perfect and they did not suspect me at all. I forgot
to mention, I also put up an absorbing scent wick and doused it with doe in
estrus made by Buck Bomb. I also put an earth dirt scent patch on my camouflage
burlap that I wrap around me. Evidently that stuff works. I also hooked up my
new A-Way grunt call that has a long tube so I can use it easily. So I started
grunting at the little bucks. I played with them quite a while. We were
grunting back and forth for at least a half-hour. But I could not get them to
walk in front of me.
All of a sudden another buck came. His antlers looked like a
pronghorn buck. He had bladed antlers that went straight up. I would've shot
him if he came in front of me. I actually got him within 30 yards but there
were some branches in the way so I did not take the shot. He circled all the
way around me and came into the trees where I was sitting - but somehow he did
not bust me. I also got to watch him make a scrape and a couple rubs. I had
witnessed that before but never so close. It was awesome. I think he was a
little twitterpated. After he got out of the trees I heard a big deep grunt. I
knew it was something big. All of a sudden the two little bucks stopped their
sparring and he walked right in between them. You could see their necks puff up
and they sized each other up. After watching them for a little bit, they were
only 15 yards away, I gave a couple soft grunts and the big guy came walking
perfectly towards my scent wick. All I could see was he was four points on one side
and could see a bunch of junk on the other side of his rack. I knew I was going
to take the shot if he gave me the opportunity. And he did. He came in front of
me about 10 yards, put his head up and was smelling the wick when I took the
shot. Right after the shot I knew I hit him high but he ran about 20 yards and
fell over. It took him quite a while to pass. I waited over an hour just to
make sure he would not get up.
This was my first kill with my new Carbon Express Intercept
crossbow. It was actually my first pass through. The arrow sliced right through
him. The Slick Trick's originals did their job. He is a 7 x 5 with a lot of
junk. He is a dandy.
