Memories of old hunts

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gspn

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A late summer thunderstorm is raging outside my home, taking away some options, but also allowing my mind time to wander. Today it wandered back about 25 years in time to a public-land hunt in Mississippi. It was a hunt I’ll likely always remember, not so much for the adventure as much as for the lessons I learned that day.


I was hunting a set of woods that lie between bean fields on the west, and a large flood control lake to the east. This strip of woods formed a funnel between the lake and the agricultural fields. I’d hung my climbing stand in an oak flat, just to the south of a long thicket that ran east/west from some tight woods, through a more open stand of timber, and then on toward the lake 150 yards away. I was in a fairly open bit of timber with good shooting lanes in almost every direction. I hung the stand so the big thicket was to my right. This would let me watch that as the primary target. From my perch I could also view the edge of another thicket that ran roughly north/south about 100 yards to my front left. These thickets looked like the perfect place to ambush a buck that might come cruising through looking for a bedded doe. The ground here was flat as a pancake, and from a height of 15 feet I could see a surprising amount of real estate.


On that early December day, I sat in the dark, wet woods of north Mississippi with my .50 caliber muzzle loader, waiting on a buck. There was no place else I’d rather be.


Muzzle loader season is always fun. They call it “Primitive Weapon” season, but nowadays there’s nothing “primitive” about it. One of my favorite things about the muzzle loader is that after you pull the trigger you get a momentary lapse between the “pop” of the primer going off, and the “BOOM” of the main powder charge igniting. When you touch it off, you get a thunderous “pop-BOOM”, then a giant cloud of white smoke rockets from your muzzle, obscuring the target area for several seconds after you shoot.


The anticipation rises as you wait for that smoke to clear so you can see if you’ve got a deer laying there, or if it’s on the run and you’ll need to track it. Since a follow-up shot isn’t just a bolt-throw away, his type of hunting takes a little more planning. My standard equipment load is to bring a seven pocket waist-pouch with three extra loads for my black powder gun. I use the plastic tubes that are partitioned into two compartments to hold my extra loads. I put three black powder pellets in one side (150 grains), and a bullet and primer in the other. The cap on the powder end is smooth, and I always put the bullet/primer combo in the end that has three braille-type dots on the cap. This ensures I can reload without ever having to look down at my gear. The reloads are always kept in the same pocket on my pouch so I never have to hunt for them. I keep spare primers in a separate pouch just in case I need those. I hang the whole rig from the rest on the front of my climbing stand so I can reach it with little movement, and no need to look at it. Once I get set up, I have everything I might need within arms reach.


I recall that this particular day wasn’t very cold. Everyone else was home watching football games, but it was a beautiful day to be in the woods. A rain front had moved through the day before and given me the advantage of a damp, quiet forest floor upon which to travel. It was all blue skies and sunshine with temps in the upper 40’s.


As per my usual tactics, I arrived at my stand in time to be set up, in the tree, all gear in it’s appropriate place and still have thirty minutes of darkness left. The sun came up and it was a fairly quiet morning. I saw a few grey squirrels, a couple of fox squirrels, and an assortment of birds. Despite having great visibility and being in a wonderful looking travel corridor, I saw no deer. It was a nice sit though, with no leaves upon the trees I had a brilliant blue sky hanging above me, and the suns rays would warm me all day long.


Just before noon that changed. I saw a flash of movement to my front-left about 100 yards out. Something was on the edge of the north/south thicket. It didn’t take long to figure out what it was. A decent buck popped out without a care in the world an began working a scrape that I hadn’t seen before. He acted like he owned the place. He came out, and positioned himself so he was facing the thicket he’d just exited; nose down, and pawing intermittently at the ground as he freshened up a scrape.


I was surprised because despite some earlier scouting I had no clue there was a scrape over there. To see him jump out and begin working it feverishly was pretty cool. He was almost broadside to me at that point, giving me a perfect, unobstructed look at his vitals. If ever there were a slam dunk in the hunting world, this was it. I always sit with the forend of my rifle on the padded rest in front of me; I keep the rifle butt in my lap with my right hand always on the pistol grip. This minimizes the amount of movement I need to do if a deer shows up. At this point I quietly slid the rifle forward, and lowered my cheek to the stock. The cold black plastic of the stock met my cheek with a familiar embrace. My left hand grabbed the rifle rest and served to both stabilize my upper body, and acted as a stop against which I could brace the forend.


My right eye slid into position and I got the familiar, brightly magnified view of a 3-9x scope. Centered in that view was a tasty whitetail buck that would make a mighty fine end to this hunt. There was no time to waste; I believe in taking the first good shot you get, and this was a dandy. I had a rock solid rest, perfect light, no obstacles, and a distracted, stationary target.


I pushed the safety to the “off” position, found the trigger with the pad of my right index finger and began the squeeze. In a moment, 150 grains of black powder would ensure that my 50 caliber muzzle loader would absolutely shatter the tranquility of this patch of woods. This oak tree would belch forth a huge white cloud that would fill the air, and when it cleared I’d see the brown coat of that whitetail buck lying gently upon the forest floor. I could hardly wait for this vision to play out.


The trigger performed flawlessly with a crisp break at around 6 pounds of pressure. The firing pin lurched forward, smashed the back of the primer and “pop”. It sounded like a 22 rimfire had gone off rather than the might 50 cal. I got no recoil, no smoke. My body remained absolutely motionless as my brain screamed “MISFIRE!!!! That bucks head rocketed up from the scrape as he searched for the source of the noise.


I held my crosshairs on his lungs in case this was a hang fire. I maintained steady breathing, and prayed. No boom ever came. To my astonishment, that buck put his head right back down in the scrape!


I breathed an uneasy sigh of relief, then executed my remedial action plan. I had extra primers in the top pocket of the pouch that hung underneath my rifle. I eased my hand to the appropriate pocket (they are always in the same place for this very reason). I deftly maneuvered to open the pocket and fish out a primer without looking. I kept my eyes on that buck the entire time. I slowly opened the bolt on my inline muzzle loader, and used my index finger to “flip” the used primer and plastic primer-sleeve out of the bolt. That used primer assembly tumbled to the metal base of my tree stand with a surprisingly loud “TINK!” before continuing it’s journey to the soft forest floor below.


Again the bucks head shot upward, scanning the woods for the source of the noise. I just KNEW this deer was gone. It was an absolute miracle that he’d stuck around after I shot a #209 primer at him from 100 yards, but now he was already alerted and I’d made another unnatural noise. Again he put his nose back in the scrape. I shook my head and thought “Such is the power of the opposite sex.”


With my heart beating 1,000 times per minute I got the primer seated, closed the bolt, and got back on target. For the second time in two minutes, I acquired my sight picture, eased the trigger and “pop-BOOOOOM”. The gun barked violently, rocked back into my shoulder, spewed white smoke from my perch 15 feet up in the oak tree, and shattered the library-like silence of these tranquil woods.


When the smoke cleared, a nice whitetail buck lay on the damp earth with his nose still in the scrape. That day was a powerful lesson to me about the rut. A rutting buck will put up with a surprising amount of shenanigans if he’s on the scent of a hot doe. It was also a powerful lesson in weapon cleaning and storage. The misfire was the result of my storing the weapon in an upright position. The thin coat of oil I’d used to swab the barrel previously, had slowly run down under the force of gravity, pooling at the bottom and clogging the flash hole in the breech.


When my primer went off the first time, no fire could transit the breach to get to the main powder charge because the hole was choked with gun oil. It doesn’t take much for this to happen; the breach hole isn’t a large opening. The lesson I learned was to ALWAYS blow a primer through the empty rifle prior to loading it. This will clear out any oil that has flowed into the breach hole. I do this by pushing a patch all the way down with my ramrod, then firing a primer. The oil blows out into the patch and I’m good to go. I’ve never had the misfire issue when using that technique.


The final lesson of the day came while gutting that deer. When I pulled his lungs I found the most perfectly circular hole I’ve ever seen in a critter. That copper slug expanded and made a perfectly round hole all the way through his lungs; it was almost a work of art. The summer sausage I made from that buck was definitely a work of art. Now I count the days until I can take to the woods with the smoke-pole.
 
That was a good read ! Many years ago an old hunter told a much younger me to write down some of my hunting memories because you will eventually forget or be unsure of all the details that go into making a story interesting. I started doing that almost 30 years ago and I'm glad I did. I have a few of my best hunting memories down on paper and today I might have to consult them to recall the important details because those memories do fade over a few decades. I'm glad I listened to the voice of experience and took his advice. I don't even know that old guys name. Only met him once. Way up on a big, wooded hill on about 6000 acres of state forest on a cold November day. Didn't get a deer that day but it's one of those memories that has always stuck with me.
 
So many. One i remember that helped me learn about Deer. My brother and were pretty deep in the woods, hunted all morning, I had already taken one nice buck. At about 2pm, we took a stand near a old logging road. I decided to take a nap. My brother was not far from me. Then I heard a big boom. Woke up and my Brother had taken a small buck. He told me that the dang deer heard me snoring and almost walked right up to me. Said he could not even take a shot. Had to wait until the Buck moved farther away. Snoring, a great Buck call on the cheap.
I have often thought what if I had waken up and had a Buck staring in my face. That would have been Stephan King type of stuff. Might have given me a lot of nightmares.

On a not lighter side. I use to belong to a very small club. We only use shotguns for deer and use buckshot. One young kid, took a shot, and One Pellet some how ricocheted or something, and struck a hunter in the head and killed him.
Made me sick to my stomach for a long time.
 
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I remember walking around the woods with an old Benjamin pellet rifle looking for squirrels and other game of opportunity when I was much younger.

Later in life a friend and I came across an ACTIVE moonshine still while squirrel hunting. We called the sheriff's department and for our trouble he received a picture of us walking in and realizing what we were seeing.

I also remember seeing a HUGE buck walk right out of the woods one day on my way home from work. The thing that sucked is I was on a federal site with no hunting, I looked at him and said BANG!!! as he trotted across the road. He stopped and gave me the deer version of sticking his tongue out at me. I do hope he made his way off site and made someone's day, just wish it had been mine.
 
Great post !! My fondest memory; a Grouse hunt many years ago. Late October Northern Wisconsin frosty in the morning, hit the woods with 2 buds and a chocolate lab. Got 2 miles from the truck when it began to sleet. This hilighted the birds and we bagged 2 birds. The walk back to the truck was miserable. We got back to the cabin had a hot shower, an icy Martini, and got the Grouse on the grill. Feasted on grouse, wild rice pilaf, and salad, with a nice Chardonnay. Heaven.
 
One of my most memorable hunts was just last fall.
We had collected pics from our trail cams all summer and knew that the big buck we had been calling Magnum was still hanging around in our neck of the woods. We also had pictures of several other decent bucks, but none compared to Magnum. We had been watching him for two years.
Opening day of gun season found me in my stand on my favorite spot overlooking a travel corridor between our crp and and open field.
In the dim light of dawn I could see a large buck in the open field worrying with a doe. As it became light, through my binos I could see it was Magnum. He was only about two hundred yards away. The madness of rut would surely circle him near me at some point.
My heart was pounding with excitement at the possibilities of getting a clear shot at Magnum.
IMG_1373.jpg
(Oct 2017 pic)
Suddenly I was faced with a "bird in the hand" decision when this splendid young 8pt came into view and was virtually walking on a path that would take him under my climber.
The choice was easy. Nice buck at point blank range, opening day. 20181116_090103.jpg

20181116_085857.jpg
Some of the best venison I have ever harvested. Having filled my tag, I enjoyed the rest of the season goofing off.
 
one of my most memorable hunts is kinda funny also.

my son and I had returned for lunch to my house. my wife had just came in from work a little bit ago. she said well your hunting in the wrong place, theres a huge buck buck rite over there! she pointed at a 40 acre patch of brush that bordered the west side of my yard.

she said its was just on the backyard with a doe. she showed me the spread of its horns and height with her hands.

during lunch she kept telling us exactly where the deer was and that we should go shoot it rite away.of course I was skeptical.

after lunch my son and I casually walked to the spot my wife indicated and stepped inside the tree line .AND THERE HE WAS!

he spun on a dime going straight away with no clear shot for either of us.

he was big, the biggest deer id seen on my farm ever. I hunted him for the rest of that deer season. seen him twice more. but he always saw me first. after season was over I went into his bedding area. the goofball was living 50yrds in the brush from my shooting table.his big tracks, large rubs and scrapes were all over the place.

that winter I found one of his sheds 100yrds behind my house.

the next deer season he came casually walking at me in a stand I had a half a mile away from my house. he would eventually close to within 75 yards of me if he kept on. I got antsy and shot him at 150 with my sons browning 30-06.he was a super nice heavy horned 11 pt. his previous shed matched his present horns exactly except for being slightly smaller. he was at that time the biggest deer id ever seen or shot.
 
A few years ago, my son came down and we spent a weekend at the lease. His freezer was empty and this would be his last chance to hunt for the year.

He had just returned from an African hunt and not had time to check his light rifle since it had flown, so we made a quick trip to the range located about 200 yards from bunkhouse to check his zero.

He set his rifle on sandbags on the shooting bench and got out my spotting scope while I hung a target. I got on the scope and just as he was ready to shoot, a fat little 8 point buck stepped out just to the left and 8-10 yards behind the target frame. I said, "He's yours if you want him". He replied, "No, not sure of my zero" and fired a shot. I could see the deer and the target both in my scope......
27371141739_09e0ccccd4_n.jpg ......and said, "You're on" as the deer just flinched and stood looking at us! A split second later my son's 30-06 sounded off again and the deer can be seen right where he had stood.

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The deer's view of shooting bench:
24289130607_d17312f13f_n.jpg
My son's comment was, "That's the first deer I ever shot from a bench!" Sure made for some good eating and a little different hunting story, though, and to top it off, the ranch foreman had been in camp and heard the shot so drove over to say howdy. He picked up the deer with his lift, hauled it back to camp for us to field dress and we didn't even have to load it up in my truck.
38441042084_7ac283bafe_n.jpg
Regards,
hps
 
Don't worry, they will. Take @22250's advice and keep a journal. Fortunately I still remember the most exciting ones like they happened yesterday and can bring most others back if something jogs my memory.

Great advice. Journals preserve many wonderful memories of a lifetime and those who helped us to make those memories will enjoy them long after we're gone to boot.

Computer journals are even better 'cause they include pictures. So glad I recorded many of the most memorable of our family outdoor adventures which began over 70 years ago when I was given my first .22 rifle.

Decided to compile ours this past year and doing so brought back many fond memories I had long forgotten. I gave copies to my wife, son, daughter in law and each of the grand kids. They seemed to enjoy it and I have to admit, I even smile a bit when I go back and re-live a couple of tales every once in a while myself. Hey, it's something to do on a rainy day. :D

48507846687_aaa2465e11_n.jpg

Regards,
hps
 
one of my most memorable hunts is kinda funny also.

my son and I had returned for lunch to my house. my wife had just came in from work a little bit ago. she said well your hunting in the wrong place, theres a huge buck buck rite over there! she pointed at a 40 acre patch of brush that bordered the west side of my yard.

she said its was just on the backyard with a doe. she showed me the spread of its horns and height with her hands.

during lunch she kept telling us exactly where the deer was and that we should go shoot it rite away.of course I was skeptical.

after lunch my son and I casually walked to the spot my wife indicated and stepped inside the tree line .AND THERE HE WAS!

he spun on a dime going straight away with no clear shot for either of us.

he was big, the biggest deer id seen on my farm ever. I hunted him for the rest of that deer season. seen him twice more. but he always saw me first. after season was over I went into his bedding area. the goofball was living 50yrds in the brush from my shooting table.his big tracks, large rubs and scrapes were all over the place.

that winter I found one of his sheds 100yrds behind my house.

the next deer season he came casually walking at me in a stand I had a half a mile away from my house. he would eventually close to within 75 yards of me if he kept on. I got antsy and shot him at 150 with my sons browning 30-06.he was a super nice heavy horned 11 pt. his previous shed matched his present horns exactly except for being slightly smaller. he was at that time the biggest deer id ever seen or shot.
Pictures! pictures! :)
 
Well seeing how everyone is sharing stories I will share a few.

I started hunting around 2002 with my brother in law mostly and my first real hunt was a turkey hunt in SE ohio hill country. We slept in an old run down trailer with propane heaters to keep us warm, 4am came quick and we headed to the woods. I was scared to death to walk in the dark woods but I was carrying his Mossberg 835 with 3.5'' shells. Bright idea giving a 13yo a 3.5'' shell huh? Sure glad I never got a shot at a turkey. :confused: The sun started to rise and he began calling. The woods lite up with birds all over gobbling. I was facing a small clearing we thought the birds would come into and all of a sudden everything went quiet. I was on a tripod folding stool and tried shifting because it was uncomfortable and I saw and heard something take off. No bird for us but man was I hooked. The next season he purchased a Western Auto Revolation 12ga and said it was mine to use. I was given a box of slugs and dropped off with my uncles out of state and pretty much told have at it. I saw a few deer and popped off a few rounds but never connected. I turned 16 and was allowed to hunt alone. I began pheasant hunting and shooting trap and man was I a beast with that old shotgun. I was knocking pheasants down left and right and breaking clays 25/25.

I hunted off and on with my BIL until about 2012 when I finally killed my first deer (that I found). My former best friend and I took a week of vacation and headed 3hrs to a large tract of public land for deer gun week. I was sitting in my climber falling asleep as the sun was coming up and get a text. "There is some A hole setup 300yards from me". The fog settled and there sits my buddy in his climber. He got lost walking in and picked the wrong trail. I waved at him and he says "now he's waving at me! What a D..." I laughed and said why are you 300yards from me? We decided to sit tight as the sun just came up and if one of us missed the other would pick it up. I dozed back off when I heard a noise to my left. I looked and there was a small 6pt sneaking down the hillside. I lined up the crosshairs on my gun and let it rip. He ran down the hill and turned right with a perfect broadside shot and I fired again. I could tell he was hit and now running towards my buddy who was just sitting there. I yelled, hey, kill him!!! He hesitated so I threw my 3rd round and then he fired. 125yards from him and about 200yards for me. We couldn't figure out who actually killed the deer because it had 2 of the same slug in it but I went ahead and gave the deer to him.

Fast forward to 2014 when I met a guy at a local sporting goods store and we became really good friends. He took me under his wing and taught me a lot One day he took me to his farm that is managed for big deer and as I walked out of the woods before dark (no headlamp) I saw an 8pt walking along the field edge. I sat next to a tree and waited for the deer to make its way in front of me and let an arrow rip. He ran about 50yards, coughed up blood and dropped! We went back for the ATV and put the bows away and when my buddy found him laying in the beans the deer got up and ran to the neighboring property. The beans were soaked with bubbly blood, so I knew I would find him the next day. I went out at 7am and found nothing but tons of blood with bubbles. I tracked the deer to the creek separating the properties and the water was too high to cross so I left. 3 weeks later he was found just on the other side of the creek not 100yards from where he was shot. I went ahead and called the tag in for him because he was found and a good shot made. We squirrel and coon hunted with each other the next couple years and again I went deerless.2016 I got a monster on camera and vowed to get him or eat tag soup. I took a small doe December 2nd 2016 with a 45-70 and called it quits. January 7th, 2017 my buddy says lets go get you a late season buck. It was -20 degrees with the windchill and we headed out for Muzzleloader. I arrived at the tree to find the lifeline frozen and my harness still in the truck. I walked 15min back to the truck and when I arrived back at the woodlot there was about 8 doe heading back to the bedding area. I climbed in the stand and thought I am a terrible deer hunter. I was playing on my phone and see 2-3 doe coming into the oaks with 2 small bucks behind them. I thought, just take a big doe or small buck and be done. I sit there with my mitten open, finger on a stainless receiver of a rifle waiting for them to come closer and I see him about 100yards out. He runs in and chases all the deer closer to me and I begin shaking. My right leg is going crazy bobbing up and down, my finger hurts from the cold and I remember what my buddy told me. Calm yourself and put it behind the shoulder. The deer steps out at 50yards behind a tree and I say sh//! All the doe and small bucks look up at me and I thought it was over! He takes 3 steps and I fire! He runs 30yards and then walks away. I climbed down looking for blood but found nothing. My buddy comes over and I am pissed! I lost another deer. We begin searching and he calls for me. He turns around and says did you find him? Nope. Look in the creek next to the log. There lay my deer 75yards from the shot. He says that's a big deer too. For my buddy who shoots 150''+ deer yearly to say that it made me feel like a real deer hunter. I had him mounted and scored by Buckeye Buck Club at 127'' gross. I thanked my buddy over and over again, but he said the smile on my face was worth it all. December/January 2017 I took a 5yo 150'' gross 12pt Non Typical and two doe off that farm. The doe weighed in at 160lbs and put me on the heaviest doe for my butcher and it hasn't been broken yet. I donated the buck and one doe to a couple buddies who could benefit from the meat. The trail cam picture was the "ghost" I passed 2 good bucks and a lot of doe to get a crack at him and he never showed. I heard a kid shot him with a gun during youth season. Fine by me! :)

Man this brought back memories! :)
 

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Great thread; amazing how similar most of our "first" hunts were and how excited we were, leading to a lifetime of outdoor adventures.
Regards,
hps
 
I have a friend who took a nap during deer season and was awakened by a buck grunt. Moving slowly, he felt for his rifle. No rifle. Then he heard his son laughing. The boy had found his dad asleep, had taken his gun and then woke him up with his grunt tube. We still laugh about that one.

One hunt that I will never forget was with friends Larry, Bud, and Larry's dad named Boyd. Boyd had taken me under his arm and had invited me on some memorable hunts to Old Mexico and Colorado. This was my second trip to the Rockies where we camped at an elevation of about 7000 feet. The third day of the hunt we had been to over 9000 feet where Larry got turned around. Luckily we found him before dark. I don't know if what happened next was due to the elevation or to the worry of having Larry lost. I was cleaning up after eating supper when Larry asked me to talk to his dad. Boyd was having chest pains thinking that it was heartburn. I told him that we were 20 miles from town with 13 miles of rough dirt road. If there was any chance that it could be his heart we needed to get it checked out. He finally decided that it would be best and stood to exit the tent. When he reached the door he clasped his chest and said, "Boys, I'm not going to make it." Then he fell back into the tent. Larry was a Policeman at the time and started CPR while I gave him mouth to mouth but to no avail. After about 20 minutes they sent me for help. I was halfway to town before I could reach anyone on our CB radio. After the first responders arrived we had to wait over 2 hours for the coroner. I will never forget sitting by the campfire waiting to take my friend off the mountain. I am reminded of it every time I gaze into a campfire.
 
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