Turned out he was bored, and looking for something to do...
Well, I still have a bunch of trail cameras out there, that I really should reel in as it's quite unlikely I'll be getting out that way anymore this season. Sounds great! Plans made for yesterday afternoon, and Game On.
We met up in mid afternoon, and wandered down Island for an hour and change. Picked up the first couple of cams, while realizing we perhaps should have left a tad earlier, as dusk was now not too far off...
Rolled into the site of the last camera out there. There used to be a couple, but the bear I encountered earlier this fall had nuked one of them. Even though it was no longer there, I feel an urge to wander over adjacent to the area it had been in simply to have a last look at my old natural blind and the area around it. Besides, it was only 1/4 mile out of the way to retrieve the camera that was still there...
When I got there, I could not help but settle into the blind for a few minutes. Felt like being back home, and my mind instantly & pleasantly wandered to so many previous hunts from that exact position. As I daydreamed about past sightings & success, I paid very little attention to my surroundings, until I suddenly realized it was right close to the edge of realistic shooting light. As Melancholy threatened to take over, I began to prepare to wander off and address the mission I had come for...
Then... Movement on the far timberline...
A quick check with the bino's...
A BUCK!! A MATURE Buck!!
And walking right at me!
Suddenly he disappeared behind the last bit of scrub between us, and I readied my ol' stainless smokepole. When he did show, all I could see was the top of head head. There he stood for a full five minutes (felt like a HOUR!) before he took several hesitant steps forward. Then it came to me. Just prior to his showing I had been toying with my aging can call, trying to make it work properly, and taking a fair bit of time doing so before I came to the conclusion that perhaps it was time to replace it. This Buck was actively seeking the "doe" he had heard!!
When he stopped again, I could just so make out his full neck and center chest. Wait for it I thought, surely he'll give you a quartering or broadside... Nope. Time ticking and daylight waning fast now... Damn! I knew that the 150 grain Nosler Partition would make a mess of things on a full frontal shot. So, I slowly and quietly slipped that out of the chamber, and replaced it with a 130 grain Sierra Spitzer. That I thought, should damn near detonate on target...
As clumsy as a teenager on his first hot date, I managed to eventually snuggle the rifle into place - on my left (off) shoulder. I had zipped the scope up to 7 power or so, and it only took a little time before I found the buck in the sight window. Struggling to maintain steady, I realized that even only 85 yards away, in the low light, I did not at all feel comfortable trying for my usual neck shot. Once that passed, I slowly dropped the crosshairs deep into the chest, and POW! The damn rifle went off almost of it's own accord!!
A frantic sweep with the scope turned up nada.
But I had well heard that unmistakable THUMP of a chest hit, and knew he would not be far. I slowly packed all my gear back up, and wandered over for an initial look. Oh-Oh! No Blood. No Hair. Now getting flashlight dark, and me with only one eye! Damn!!
so, I then wandered over to the site where the camera was, and pulled it. I also signaled my Buddy to get his butt over to me - thinking of course that 3 eyes are better than one. We made the trek back to the area of the action, and began to search the trails heading into the bush. With headlamps. Bit of a sinking feeling, but I could not shake the sound of that bullet's impact... Then my Buddy asked, did you hear him hit the timber? Nope.
If he was hit hard, and running blind, you would have. Yup.
But I continued checking 30 0r 40 yards deep on the second trail, and started on the third. Just then I heard my friend stumble, giggle and say Hey, I just tripped right over him, right on the edge of the timber!!
An intense feeling of relief swept over me as I rushed over. A firm handshake and high five, and my first good look at what had been eluding me all this fall. Not a monster by any means, but a Fine, Mature three point Blacktail!!
He was in such an area we did not want to drag him out of - the truck was a mile away, and there was a bit of soft ground between us. So, a quick run to a ranch we well know, a few pleading words, and the offer of a beer or two, and the quad was soon saddled up. We used that to retrieve him, as we could actually horse the machine to within a decently short drag.
Back to the ranch, where we laid him out on the lawn for a picture or two - in the mad look and after I had simply forgotten to do so...
We then cleaned him up and hung him in the barn for a couple days. I suggested to my Buddy he should take half (we don't really need much meat) and he accepted with a huge grin! Made me feel even better!! Turned out that Spitzer did pretty much exactly what I was hoping. The heart and both lungs were pretty much destroyed, but the impact did not even touch the liver, nor diaphragm. Did not lose even an ounce of meat! Excellent!!
Another Buddy called this morning, and he too took another fine three point not far away from where we were. Upon reviewing the game cams, and watching a big Deuce chase around a willing doe on the rancher's front lawn (well after dark) I've come to the conclusion the second rut must be in full swing on the mid-Island right now. I would therefore suggest that any who are still looking get out there as in NOW!!
Don't forget your Lucky Shirt (I will elaborate on that in a later post...)
Never over until it's over it seems. The fine fellow that was with me yesterday called just now, suggesting he is going to get permission on a closer ranch he saw 9 does and 3 bucks on just 2 days ago! And another good friend called just before him, asking if I could go tomorrow morning to help him work another buck he knows of. Of course the answer to both was a resounding aYup!!
Quick twist of the Hunting Fates, and the GRIN I wear today could not be removed with a wire brush!
Not too damn shabby for an aging, one eyed fat man!!
Cheers,
Nog
