this is my first gun and the best memory i have of it! (win 30-30, pre WW II)
This deer, although not my first deer taken with this gun, is one that holds many memories for me. The gun was my grandfathers. He passed away following this particular deer season, shortly after Christmas. I had just moved from an area that I loved probably more than any place else I have lived so far. I was in the far north of WI, along the Lake Superior shore, you want to talk about wild country, there are thousands of acres of undeveloped land, and forests abound for miles in all directions. I don’t bide well in the “civilized world”. The rat race gets me kinda edgy, I lose track of what is important in life. I found a tranquility in the north woods that I thought I would never find any place else. When I moved I felt that my roots had been pulled from under me, I felt disconnected from the land. I didn’t move into a city but rather a small town where the cattle out number the people, still there were other people on top of me, neighbors all around. I left my home that I knew well and felt I would never adapt.
I moved for monetary reasons and love. I met my now life long partner. She and I have been together for ten years now, although we haven’t tied the knot, to say, we might as well be married. Our decisions in life include each other as the foremost factor for making any changes. I decided to risk the consequences of uprooting myself. I moved and tried to find some areas to hunt. I did some scouting and found an area of public hunting grounds that showed some promise.
Bow season arrived. I hunted the area and saw deer, including a decent buck, but never could get close enough. It seemed that every time I moved, the deer would go to where I was previously sitting. I hunted hard but could not connect. I was feeling incompetent as a hunter. Why had I moved from home! At least when I was up north I could move a few miles away and find deer, all I had was this tiny area, the deer were so pressured that they knew where I was at almost any given time. They were always going into the same clear cut, but always entered where I wasn’t sitting. It sucked; frustration became my biggest foe.
Finally, the nine day gun season arrived. I had been hunting the same area hard, and started to piece a few things together. I found a bedding area and a group of scrapes. Opening morning came and I found myself in a tree again. At first light a group of does and fawns headed right at me, they slowly meandered in my direction, I heard a few shots starting to ring out in the distance; the season was in full swing. Closer the deer crept, my mind raced and heart pumped. I pulled back the hammer and waited for the shot to present itself. Deer in view, irons on the boiler maker, squeeze the trigger, and click. I never put a round into the chamber. I had loaded the gun when I got into the tree, but never chambered one. The doe came to a screeching halt, looked directly at me, stomped her foot once and the woods came to an eerie quite, one snort and in a flash she was gone with the rest of the deer. I sat there looking at my gun, then where the deer were once standing. I hung my head in disbelief. Nothing was going right. Still I didn’t give up. I decided to sit, it was early and there have to be more deer in the area. I chambered a round into the gun and waited. About a half hour later, I must have fidgeted a bit too much, a deer to my left caught me moving and let out a bellowing snort, my head swung around to see the same group of deer, they had circled around me and busted my exact location. I almost climbed down and went home. I talked my self out of it though. So I sat, hoping something would materialize, besides it was not even an hour into the season, I knew there were other deer in the area. So I sat.
About 15-30 minutes after the last folly, I heard a crack to the SE of me. My eyes strained through the brush to see what it was, then another twig, finally blaze orange. The colorful blob made it way across a ridge top in full view and found a place to sit on a log, only about 100-125 yards away from me. I could only see him if I leaned to one direction. To this day I doubt this other hunter knew I was there. I sat there hoping for the best. It started to snow. I was cold, miserable and pissed. About an hour or so passed, regardless, it wasn’t very long in my estimation, and the blaze orange blob obviously was uncomfortable as it got up several times, moved a few yards and sat down again. Finally he gave up and went back the direction he came.
Opening morning and this person shows up late, sounds like a herd of elephants walking into the woods, walking up on top of the ridge for everything to see, oblivious to their surroundings, constantly fidgeting, probably stinking the place up with the smell of the previous nights celebration, only to sit, at the most, a couple of hours. What a waste of time, not only theirs, but mine as well. It’s one thing to ruin your own hunt, but there are other people in the woods, at least he could have pushed something to me with the racket being made, but more than likely all he did was push deer to other people. I hated this area, I wanted to move back home where I knew the areas people sat and how the deer would move through the woods after the first few hours, now I had no idea what to do.
I climbed down and poked around some, what the hell it can’t hurt. I followed some trails that were starting to cover with snow. At least one thing was going right, it was wet enough I could move quietly. I poked and prodded through the woods, checking out this and that, I never covered more than ¼ mile, but I felt I learned where the deer where bedding. There was a swamp surrounded by an aspen cut. I could see some larger trees within the cut. I surmised it was an island surrounded by alders; this would be a good bet. I continued to poke around some and ran into a few other hunters, one was on the power line right of way on a knoll; another was on the same right of way around the corner out of sight and shooting direction of the first. These were the only two people I could find that were close. I’m sure there may have been others earlier in the day, but I never found them or cut a track in the snow that was now building to about three inches off and on through out the day. The day had come to close, I was tired, hungry, cold and wet, but my confidence and spirits were up. I think I had it figured out.
I went home ate and tried to sleep. My thoughts kept trying to figure out a game plan for the next morning. I decided to sit in the same tree for the first part and try to still hunt my way to the island after the shooting of the morning had slowed. Game plan made I finally fell asleep.
Next morning found me in the tree again. At first light I could make out the orange figure on the hill from the previous day. At least this time he was in stand early. As dark gave away to day, I could see deer tracks in the snow. The weather system had passed, leaving behind ankle deep snow, the wind was blowing at a pretty good clip and it was cold. I sat; I wasn’t going to move until the other hunter had moved on. If the day before was a sign how long he could sit I figured it wouldn’t be long. It wasn’t. Some time before mid morning the other hunter left. I sat hoping others would do the same and push deer towards me. There was some shooting but not like the previous morning. The weather was uncomfortable, windy and cold. Nothing moved passed me. I grew weary and climbed down late morning to try and still hunt into the swamp. I figured the deer had bedded down by now and had nothing to lose.
I made my way ever so slowly, trying to keep my feet dry. There was snow on the ground, but ice hadn’t formed under it in the alder swamp. I slowly crept along, trying not to move the brush. A few hours later I was in the thick of it and close to the island. Large old poplars were still standing, left behind during the cut, and I could see higher ground. The closer I got the thicker it got. I had to shuffle under brush on all fours. I was very close to were I wanted to be, but on all fours trying to not move the brush when I looked up and saw a doe staring at me. She was just as surprised to see me as I was her. One snort and the island erupted with deer; at least four took off into the swamp never to be seen again. I stood up, brushed off the snow and walked over to the area the doe was standing before taking off. She was in her bed and I obviously made noise, moved brush or something which caught her attention. She probably stood there watching me until I looked up to make eye contact, her clue to take off. As bad as it seems, my heart sank, but I knew I was on to something.
I wish I could say I went back the next day, but I had to work. I wasn’t able to get out again until Thursday, Thanksgiving Day. I couldn’t keep my mind on work but didn’t have any choice in the matter, three long days of knowing deer season was passing by, but I had to work, I didn’t have any vacation time to use for the season.
On Thanksgiving I found myself near the edge of the swamp leading to the bedding area. During my absence somebody had driven down the old logging road only to get stuck in a giant mud puddle covered by the snow. To make it worse there was a skim ice that had formed so the truck went over the puddle for a short distance only to break though directly in the center. From the looks of things they had the whole family out there breaking ice back to the solid ground where they finally hooked up to another truck with a chain and pulled themselves out. It must have taken them a good part of the day, for I never found any people tracks going into the swamp. I chuckled to myself, deserves them right for driving where they aren’t suppose to be.
I sat at the base of a giant white pine. The weather was good, birds were really active. I always believed if the birds are active, deer will be as well. Time passed slowly, I was enjoying the morning but still distraught that I hadn’t see any deer. Was this going to be the first year in quite some time that I won’t be able to fill the freezer with meat? I sat with a sinking feeling. I was getting cold and impatient. About mid morning Mother Nature started calling. I had to relieve myself in the worst way, not just a matter of unzipping a few layers to relieve myself standing, but a total strip down to be able to exit from the other end, it happens to all of us, so I did my thing, finished up, started pulling myself together when I caught movement through the brush. With most of my clothes still around my ankles, I shuffled towards my gun, picked it up, found a rest, and took aim. No shot, I waited, finally after what seemed to be forever the deer made the quick dash across the logging trail, I found my mark and let one fly. I saw blood at the point of impact, with more flying out the other side. The deer turned and ran right at me. I had to move or it would’ve run me over, so I did the fastest shuffle I could. She ran past me, hit a tree and dropped a few yards from me. Here I am standing with my drawers wrapped around my ankles, dead deer almost within spitting distance, and a fresh steaming pile of human excrement on the other side of me, thank god nobody had a camera.
Just goes to show you, when the s**t hits the fan, never give up, eventually good s**t happens.
