In an attempt to "spice-up" the outdoor blog, I thought I would post a recepie (once and a while) that I would like to try!
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Grey Squirrel Cobbler.
3 cups squirrel meat - boned and cut into serving pieces
1 cup onions, sliced
4 tablespoons butter
1 cup turnips, skinned and cut into small dice
1/2 cup green pepper, diced
3 cups veal stock.
1 cup sour cream
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper
1 tablespoon brown sugar
salt and pepper
2 lbs puff pastry for covered pies and cobblers
In a high-sided skillet, brown meat and onions together in butter over moderately high heat for 20 minutes, uncovered.
Add turnips and green peppers, reduce heat and simmer for an additional 20 minutes, uncovered.
Stock will have reduced by half.
Remove skillet from heat and stir in cinnamon, cayenne pepper and brown sugar.
Adjust seasonings with salt and pepper. After stock has cooled somewhat, fold in sour cream and blend thoroughly.
Preheat oven to 425. Pour entire mixture into a deep oven-proof casserole pan, 2-quart size or larger. Roll out dough to 1/2 inch thickness and place a dough lid on casserole dish.
Dough will rest on meat and sauce. Crimp edges and cut several steam vents. Bake for 30 minutes or until crust is nicely browned.
Serves 6.
Wild at the Table
dansmailoutdoors
From the "archives"
UPDATED 08-17-07 - See below for updates!
I have unearthed some older stories that I had typed up and printed out (but never saved). I had misplaced them, and subsequently thought they were forever "lost". Alas, while cleaning out some older files today I unearthed a couple of them!
I'll get them in here in due time, but they will be out of sequence. You will need to be satisfied with this one - for now.
I present to you the first of the new entries titled "Pheasant Hunting - 2005".
Update 05-17-07 - I present to you the next of the new entries titled "Fishing Trip - 1998"
Update 08-17-07 - I present to you the thrid of the new "old" articles titled "Duck and Grouse Hunting - 1998"
Enjoy!
I have unearthed some older stories that I had typed up and printed out (but never saved). I had misplaced them, and subsequently thought they were forever "lost". Alas, while cleaning out some older files today I unearthed a couple of them!
I'll get them in here in due time, but they will be out of sequence. You will need to be satisfied with this one - for now.
I present to you the first of the new entries titled "Pheasant Hunting - 2005".
Update 05-17-07 - I present to you the next of the new entries titled "Fishing Trip - 1998"
Update 08-17-07 - I present to you the thrid of the new "old" articles titled "Duck and Grouse Hunting - 1998"
Enjoy!
Duck and Grouse Hunting - 1998
Now, remember folks, this was written nine years ago, and my second attempt at keeping a hunting journal. I found this entry (along with Fishing Trip - 1998) in my first hand-written hunting book. I copied it word for word - as is. I made not grmamatical changes (even though there were a few I felt I should have made).
I still may have one or two more stories from that book to type up and post here on the blog.
Enjoy.
David.
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Duck and Grouse Hunting
October 7-9 1998
We again made the pilgrimage to Ed’s cabin for duck hunting. This year we made it for the opener. Ed, Dave G, and I were in attendance.
The first day, Dave and I set up on the north end of the lake, behind the island and in the reeds. We saw a few ducks, but were unsuccessful in our hunt. Ed set up near the beaver dam, and got a couple of ducks. On the way back to the cabin, Ed discovered a problem with his outboard motor. It was running too warm, and the exhaust was full of steam. When we got back to the cabin, we ate breakfast, and then Dave began disassembling the outboard. When we hit the point where we could not find the problem, we took the outboard into Garrison for repair.
We spent the rest of the day grouse hunting. We saw and heard one grouse. Dave and I were unsuccessful. We also spent a lot of time hunting state grounds in the area. It felt like we had walked over a hundred miles, but we came up empty. The colors were so brilliant that to even try to describe them would not do them justice.
On the second day, having only one motor, the three of us ended up at the beaver dam. We saw nothing but beavers. After an unsuccessful morning, we returned to the cabin for breakfast and back to garrison to pick up the outboard. Later that afternoon, we spent more time grouse hunting, seeing and hearing about the same number of birds. We still came home empty handed.
It was the third and final day of the trip that proved to be most successful for me. Again the three of us set up at the beaver dam. Dave and I were in the center and Ed on the far west end of the dam. Ed called in a drake wood duck, but it would not come close enough for any of us to get a good shot off. It just swam around the bay watching our decoys from afar. Then, just as quick as we noticed it, it just stopped squeaking and disappeared. A couple of ducks flew by, and I managed to get one shot off, but did not drop the bird. Late in the morning, a big black crow flew by. Dave squeezed a shot off. He must have hit the crow. All we saw was “flap, flap, drop”, “flap, flap, drop”, “flap, flap, drop”… As the crow (unusually slow) made it’s way back to the wooded area just west of where we were hunting - about tree top height. Best as I could tell, the bird dropped through the canopy of the trees - never to be seen again. When we finally went in, we went grouse hunting again. We sure heard a lot more grouse this year, compared to most years. After yet another unsuccessful grouse hunt, we returned to the cabin. Later that afternoon, Dave and I went to walk the Little Thompson Trail. On the way down the trail, we ran into a hunter and his dog. He had a grouse in his hunting pouch. Well, I figured that we would into be able to find any birds after he had flushed anything out of the area. Dave and I walked until I could barley walk anymore. We stopped at a clearing and rested for a few minutes. After resting, we turned and headed back. At this point we were heading back to begin packing up and I remember being depressed about returning empty handed. Another year went by without any game to bring home. About a third of the way back, and guy in a pickup truck drove up the trail and stopped to visit. He claimed to have seen a bird up near the end of the trail. I remembered thinking that this pickup truck driving up the road just scared off our last opportunity to get a grouse this year. Just about two-thirds way back down the trail, I spotted a grouse sitting on a branch about one foot off the ground. (About 30 feet from me). Right away I put a bead on the bird, and slowly started walking towards the bird. It took off and started flying back into the woods, then BANG! I don’t remember seeing the bird drop. Dave told me that I did drop the grouse, so I went into the woods. I located the bird. MY FIRST GROUSE! I was so happy, but at the same time I felt slightly bad. I know just how bad Dave had wanted a grouse also. We made to the end of the trail, and then headed back to the cabin.
When we got back, Ed was gone. I had figured that he had gone grouse hunting on the ridge on their land. Dave laid down, and I began packing things up. We did hear shots off in the distance. It was not too much longer when Ed came back. Ed had gotten three grey squirrels. Ed took Dave and I back into the woods, were I cleaned my first grouse, and John (Ed’s Dad) cleaned the other grouse and the three squirrels.
By the time Dave, Ed and I had our things packed up; John was ready to cook up the game. We sat down and had “snacks” for the road home. This was my first taste of squirrel, and the second time I have had grouse. I was very delicious! I would (without a doubt) eat both again (and I look forward to doing so.)
I still may have one or two more stories from that book to type up and post here on the blog.
Enjoy.
David.
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Duck and Grouse Hunting
October 7-9 1998
We again made the pilgrimage to Ed’s cabin for duck hunting. This year we made it for the opener. Ed, Dave G, and I were in attendance.
The first day, Dave and I set up on the north end of the lake, behind the island and in the reeds. We saw a few ducks, but were unsuccessful in our hunt. Ed set up near the beaver dam, and got a couple of ducks. On the way back to the cabin, Ed discovered a problem with his outboard motor. It was running too warm, and the exhaust was full of steam. When we got back to the cabin, we ate breakfast, and then Dave began disassembling the outboard. When we hit the point where we could not find the problem, we took the outboard into Garrison for repair.
We spent the rest of the day grouse hunting. We saw and heard one grouse. Dave and I were unsuccessful. We also spent a lot of time hunting state grounds in the area. It felt like we had walked over a hundred miles, but we came up empty. The colors were so brilliant that to even try to describe them would not do them justice.
On the second day, having only one motor, the three of us ended up at the beaver dam. We saw nothing but beavers. After an unsuccessful morning, we returned to the cabin for breakfast and back to garrison to pick up the outboard. Later that afternoon, we spent more time grouse hunting, seeing and hearing about the same number of birds. We still came home empty handed.
It was the third and final day of the trip that proved to be most successful for me. Again the three of us set up at the beaver dam. Dave and I were in the center and Ed on the far west end of the dam. Ed called in a drake wood duck, but it would not come close enough for any of us to get a good shot off. It just swam around the bay watching our decoys from afar. Then, just as quick as we noticed it, it just stopped squeaking and disappeared. A couple of ducks flew by, and I managed to get one shot off, but did not drop the bird. Late in the morning, a big black crow flew by. Dave squeezed a shot off. He must have hit the crow. All we saw was “flap, flap, drop”, “flap, flap, drop”, “flap, flap, drop”… As the crow (unusually slow) made it’s way back to the wooded area just west of where we were hunting - about tree top height. Best as I could tell, the bird dropped through the canopy of the trees - never to be seen again. When we finally went in, we went grouse hunting again. We sure heard a lot more grouse this year, compared to most years. After yet another unsuccessful grouse hunt, we returned to the cabin. Later that afternoon, Dave and I went to walk the Little Thompson Trail. On the way down the trail, we ran into a hunter and his dog. He had a grouse in his hunting pouch. Well, I figured that we would into be able to find any birds after he had flushed anything out of the area. Dave and I walked until I could barley walk anymore. We stopped at a clearing and rested for a few minutes. After resting, we turned and headed back. At this point we were heading back to begin packing up and I remember being depressed about returning empty handed. Another year went by without any game to bring home. About a third of the way back, and guy in a pickup truck drove up the trail and stopped to visit. He claimed to have seen a bird up near the end of the trail. I remembered thinking that this pickup truck driving up the road just scared off our last opportunity to get a grouse this year. Just about two-thirds way back down the trail, I spotted a grouse sitting on a branch about one foot off the ground. (About 30 feet from me). Right away I put a bead on the bird, and slowly started walking towards the bird. It took off and started flying back into the woods, then BANG! I don’t remember seeing the bird drop. Dave told me that I did drop the grouse, so I went into the woods. I located the bird. MY FIRST GROUSE! I was so happy, but at the same time I felt slightly bad. I know just how bad Dave had wanted a grouse also. We made to the end of the trail, and then headed back to the cabin.When we got back, Ed was gone. I had figured that he had gone grouse hunting on the ridge on their land. Dave laid down, and I began packing things up. We did hear shots off in the distance. It was not too much longer when Ed came back. Ed had gotten three grey squirrels. Ed took Dave and I back into the woods, were I cleaned my first grouse, and John (Ed’s Dad) cleaned the other grouse and the three squirrels.
By the time Dave, Ed and I had our things packed up; John was ready to cook up the game. We sat down and had “snacks” for the road home. This was my first taste of squirrel, and the second time I have had grouse. I was very delicious! I would (without a doubt) eat both again (and I look forward to doing so.)
Fishing Trip - 1998
This was the first trip I had planned with the boat since dad had given it to me earlier in the spring. This was also Jonathan’s first fishing trip ever. I took the boat to Lake Fannie near Cambridge, Minnesota. Benjamin (10 years old) and Jonathan (2 years old) were also with me. Both boys were very excited as we began our adventure. The day was beautiful, the sun was shining and the temperature was not too hot and not too cold. I got the bat packed up and we began our journey.
About three-quarters of the way there, we must have driven through a cloud of pollen. I began a sneezing fit that could only be described as uncontrollable. I was unable to stop. I was desperate to locate a gas station or a store that may sell allergy medication. I did finally locate a store (in Cambridge). By this time, “misery” would not begin to describe how I was feeling. I ran into the store and was taking the medication before I even made it to the checkout counter. At this point, every second counted. I was in such misery that I forgot to pick up bait. As we drove to the public access, I remembered this “minor detail”, but thought we could do some trolling. I got the boat packed, and began backing the boat into the water. I got the kids loaded, the boat off the trailer, the car parked and myself into the boat with no difficulties.
I began pulling the starter cord for the outboard. (I had tested the motor just weeks before the trip and it started just fine.) The outboard just would not start. I pulled and pulled to no avail. I choked and un-choked the motor. Nothing seemed to work. We drifted out into a weed patch. Other boaters were starting to “watch” us. After several minutes of trying to get the motor started I finally got it running (by giving the gas tank an extra prime or two) and we were off! Another few minutes went by without any trouble. The outboard then began sputtering (still running but sputtering). A few minutes later the problem was resolved when the fast idle knob was adjusted. This problem continued throughout the day, every few minutes – another adjustment.
We found a spot that looked like it might hold some fish, and dropped anchor. Without bait the fishing was poor. We did not even get a nibble. I thought trolling might produce more action, so we started trolling along the shore (still plagued by the idle screw). Things went fine for a while. We made it to the end of the lake and began turning back. On the way back, I let out more line and after a few seconds discovered that I had let out all the line on the spool. I looked behind the boat, and saw the lure floating on the surface of the water (along with several “loops” of the fishing line arcing out of the water) between the boat and the lure. I turned the boat around and cautiously made my way back to the line. Just when I thought I made it close enough to row, but far enough to not get the line tangled up in the prop, the line quickly disappeared under the water. Knowing exactly what just happened, I killed the motor and pulled up the prop. Just as I had expected, much of the line was around the prop. I did the best I could to untangle the line – discovering that somewhere in the middle of the line, it had been broken. I opened up the reel, tied what I thought was the correct line on to the reel, and began winding. Murphy’s Law would dictate that I did indeed have the wrong line (which I did). I detached the first line and retied the other line onto the reel. It was at that point that I realized that I did not feed the line thru the face of the reel, so I had to redo the whole process. When all was said and done, I had about twenty five percent of the line I had started with. Up to this point the boys were doing a fantastic job. Jonathan began falling asleep while sitting up. In his lifejacket, he looked like an underdeveloped turtle. As he fell asleep, his head began disappearing into his lifejacket, and because it was just big enough, the jacket held up his sleeping headless body. I had had enough. I decided to call it a day, and began heading back to the public access. I wanted to burn as much of the gas as possible so I began making large circles at full speed near the public access. The motor began bogging down ant this point. (Bad Gas – to the best of my determination.) We made it back to the public access alive, and unloaded the boat (uneventful).
On my way home, somewhere in Blaine, Mn. The car began to overheat and stall. We first stopped at a “Super America” along highway 65. I called Michele to let her know what was going on, and to let the car cool down. Thirty minutes later we were on the road again. This lasted until the car started stalling again somewhere on Interstate 35 near St. Paul. I just barley made it off the freeway when the car stalled again. The boys and I pulled over in a residential neighborhood and let the car cool for an additional 30 minutes. This seemed enough, so I started out again. I made it around the block before the car started stalling, so we stopped for another 30 minutes. By this time the car had cooled enough for me to get back on the freeway and (going very carefully) we made it to the 46 th St. exit off 35W in Minneapolis. The car once again started stalling, so I got off the freeway and pulled into a residential area – letting the car cool for yet another 30 minutes. After starting out again, I figured my best bet at this point was the side streets all the way home. I took Nicollet Ave South until I got to a stoplight on a steep incline, and (of course) the light turned red. The car stalled. I managed to nurse the car into a parking lot of a school, were we sat for another 30 minute cool-down. When I got brave enough to start out again, I stayed off Nicollet and took the side streets. We made it to about 62 nd St. when the car called one last time. One last 30 minute cool-down period, and we started out towards home again. We were able to make it from 62 nd and Nicollet to home without any further stalling of the car. Once I arrived home, I had an extra fifteen minutes before having to leave for work.
What an experience. I don’t know if I would change a thing. Both Benjamin and Jonathan were fantastic, and made this “terrible” trip “bearable”. It was fun watching Benjamin try to figure out what was wrong with the car, and Jonathan not sure what was going on, but trusting me enough to just go along with everything.
What a memory!
About three-quarters of the way there, we must have driven through a cloud of pollen. I began a sneezing fit that could only be described as uncontrollable. I was unable to stop. I was desperate to locate a gas station or a store that may sell allergy medication. I did finally locate a store (in Cambridge). By this time, “misery” would not begin to describe how I was feeling. I ran into the store and was taking the medication before I even made it to the checkout counter. At this point, every second counted. I was in such misery that I forgot to pick up bait. As we drove to the public access, I remembered this “minor detail”, but thought we could do some trolling. I got the boat packed, and began backing the boat into the water. I got the kids loaded, the boat off the trailer, the car parked and myself into the boat with no difficulties.
I began pulling the starter cord for the outboard. (I had tested the motor just weeks before the trip and it started just fine.) The outboard just would not start. I pulled and pulled to no avail. I choked and un-choked the motor. Nothing seemed to work. We drifted out into a weed patch. Other boaters were starting to “watch” us. After several minutes of trying to get the motor started I finally got it running (by giving the gas tank an extra prime or two) and we were off! Another few minutes went by without any trouble. The outboard then began sputtering (still running but sputtering). A few minutes later the problem was resolved when the fast idle knob was adjusted. This problem continued throughout the day, every few minutes – another adjustment.
We found a spot that looked like it might hold some fish, and dropped anchor. Without bait the fishing was poor. We did not even get a nibble. I thought trolling might produce more action, so we started trolling along the shore (still plagued by the idle screw). Things went fine for a while. We made it to the end of the lake and began turning back. On the way back, I let out more line and after a few seconds discovered that I had let out all the line on the spool. I looked behind the boat, and saw the lure floating on the surface of the water (along with several “loops” of the fishing line arcing out of the water) between the boat and the lure. I turned the boat around and cautiously made my way back to the line. Just when I thought I made it close enough to row, but far enough to not get the line tangled up in the prop, the line quickly disappeared under the water. Knowing exactly what just happened, I killed the motor and pulled up the prop. Just as I had expected, much of the line was around the prop. I did the best I could to untangle the line – discovering that somewhere in the middle of the line, it had been broken. I opened up the reel, tied what I thought was the correct line on to the reel, and began winding. Murphy’s Law would dictate that I did indeed have the wrong line (which I did). I detached the first line and retied the other line onto the reel. It was at that point that I realized that I did not feed the line thru the face of the reel, so I had to redo the whole process. When all was said and done, I had about twenty five percent of the line I had started with. Up to this point the boys were doing a fantastic job. Jonathan began falling asleep while sitting up. In his lifejacket, he looked like an underdeveloped turtle. As he fell asleep, his head began disappearing into his lifejacket, and because it was just big enough, the jacket held up his sleeping headless body. I had had enough. I decided to call it a day, and began heading back to the public access. I wanted to burn as much of the gas as possible so I began making large circles at full speed near the public access. The motor began bogging down ant this point. (Bad Gas – to the best of my determination.) We made it back to the public access alive, and unloaded the boat (uneventful).
On my way home, somewhere in Blaine, Mn. The car began to overheat and stall. We first stopped at a “Super America” along highway 65. I called Michele to let her know what was going on, and to let the car cool down. Thirty minutes later we were on the road again. This lasted until the car started stalling again somewhere on Interstate 35 near St. Paul. I just barley made it off the freeway when the car stalled again. The boys and I pulled over in a residential neighborhood and let the car cool for an additional 30 minutes. This seemed enough, so I started out again. I made it around the block before the car started stalling, so we stopped for another 30 minutes. By this time the car had cooled enough for me to get back on the freeway and (going very carefully) we made it to the 46 th St. exit off 35W in Minneapolis. The car once again started stalling, so I got off the freeway and pulled into a residential area – letting the car cool for yet another 30 minutes. After starting out again, I figured my best bet at this point was the side streets all the way home. I took Nicollet Ave South until I got to a stoplight on a steep incline, and (of course) the light turned red. The car stalled. I managed to nurse the car into a parking lot of a school, were we sat for another 30 minute cool-down. When I got brave enough to start out again, I stayed off Nicollet and took the side streets. We made it to about 62 nd St. when the car called one last time. One last 30 minute cool-down period, and we started out towards home again. We were able to make it from 62 nd and Nicollet to home without any further stalling of the car. Once I arrived home, I had an extra fifteen minutes before having to leave for work.
What an experience. I don’t know if I would change a thing. Both Benjamin and Jonathan were fantastic, and made this “terrible” trip “bearable”. It was fun watching Benjamin try to figure out what was wrong with the car, and Jonathan not sure what was going on, but trusting me enough to just go along with everything.
What a memory!
Pheasant Hunting - 2005
Saturday October 15, 2005 – Pheasant Hunting – Nawrocki Farm
Joe, Mike and I had decided on a date to do some Pheasant hunting on the farm. During the planning stages – it occurred to me that the Jonathan and Zachary (although not old enough to hunt yet) would love going along. I checked with Joe and Mike, and they liked it – then told the boys and they were climbing the walls with excitement for the week prior. Not long after – it was decided that Benjamin may be able to go, and the necessary arrangements were made (although he too would not be able to hunt). This would be the first trip I have made to the farm since Michele’s Uncle Jack did his wildlife rehab to the creek area.
We got our start and arrived at the farm about 10 am. We met up with Darwin before we went out (he owns the house where the farm building used to be) – and visited with him for a short time. He gave us some tips, and we head out.
The corn had not yet been harvested – so we knew ahead-of-time that the hunting would be poor.
We started hunting on the North side of the farm, along the property line where a couple of rows of corn was down. We made our way down to the creek, and then headed south between the West bank of the creek and the cornrows. About 2/3 the way back to the South boarder, we ran across 3 other hunters, hunting the farm. They claim to have been given permission from “???” the guy renting the farm from Jack. Nice enough guys – and they said they would leave so that we could hunt today. Not sure if that was the truth or not, but given the Chai Vang story last year, what are you going to do?
When we reached the south end of the farm, we used Darwin’s side of the fence to cross over the creek, and work our way back to the east bank of the creek, as we did so, Zachary fell into a sinkhole up to his knee. Mud covered every inch of his leg from the knee down, and oh, yeah… Did it smell!
We doubled back now on the East side of the creek, and made it all the way to the end, and crossed the creek on a small wooden “bridge” that made me a wee-bit nervous as I crossed it – but I did – without problems.
We decided to go for lunch, and return to the far South East corner of the property where some cornrows were removed after lunch.
As we walked west along the open cornrows, we saw nothing. We rested a bit when we reached the end, and then double-backed along the same path. We sent the boys thru a small strip of corn between the road and the fields that were still standing, and as they reached the end, they flushed out two deer. I did not get to see them, but Mike (who was between the corn and the road) said that they crossed in front of him and headed south into the next cornfield.
When we finished hunting, we did have some fun shooting the guns. Mike started off by showing the boys how “loud” a 20 gauge sounds, and then I showed them a 12 gauge. Joe also put a round thru his 12 gauge. I let each of the boys (Jonathan and Zachary) have a turn with the 20 gauge. Jonathan first – could just barely reach the front of the gun. I helped him steady it, and he fired it. Zachary was a little more nervous, and tried to fire the gun with one hand on the trigger and the other plugging his ear. (I was steadying the gun). I did not allow him to do so, and he eventually fired the gun correctly. Once his initial fear was over, he did not have any other problems. We plunked away with a .22 for quite some time, and I do believe that the boys really enjoyed that.
Uncle Mike did observe how disappointed Ben looked while everyone had their turn shooting, but I for one was VERY PROUD of how he handed it. Benjamin has shown lots of maturity in the past year, and this was one perfect example. I too know how much he would have loved a turn, but the rules prohibited it, and he followed the rules to the tee. I was very proud of him for that!
We decided we would have to come back and try again after the corn has been harvested.
The Boat
I thought I would give the Outdoor Journal a little needed boost.
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Let me tell you a little bit about my boat. It was given to me by my father around 1995 or 1996 (I dont recall the date) as a birthday gift. My father owned the boat (I believe) since it was new, and bought the outboard motor used. For many, many years the boat was left upside down, and chained to a tree on a "deeded access" landing on Lake Marie, near Annandale, Minnesota. As a very young child I remember going to the lake access and seeing the boat laying there. Not too long after my parents bought their home in Bloomington (circa 1977) they brought the boat home, where it sat (upside down on it's trailer) for most (if not all) of the next (about) 10 years.About the time I graduated high school (1987), had my own car that would haul the boat, and had a place to take it (Ed's cabin), he convinced me to break it out, fix it up, and get it out and about.
Ed and I replaced the rotten transom board, got it licensed, and took it out a few times. It sat for another (about) three years, and I broke it out to take my (then) girlfriend (now) wife and her younger brother out on a date (circa 1991 or 1992). I again got the boat "sea worthy", and had it out one time on Lake (?) in Eden Prarie. Then packed away again until (I suspect) my Dad got sick of looking at it parked in his yard, and (since I now had my own home - and a place to park it) he gave to to me as a Birthday Gift.
I have (since then) taken it out at least once (and seldom more than that) almost every year. Last year the boat never saw water, but the outboard was used (during Duck Hunting). For the first time EVER, the outboad "acted up" a bit, and I had a hard time starting, and keeping it running. That was until the (original) starter cord broke while I was trying to restart it. After hunting, the outboard got put back on it's stand, and there it still awaits some TLC.
Here are some details.
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The Boat: 1968 16' aluminum Chrysler row boat. (I have the ORIGINAL manual.)The trailer: 1974 Sears
The Outbard: 1955 Evinrude Fleetwin 7.5hp Aquasonic Model 7518 (I have the ORIGINAL manual)
Trolling Motor: Sea King (I have no further info - my father in law bought it at a garage sale. I have never applied current to it, so I am not sure it works or not. )
I'll try and post more specifics if I can, but that is the story of "My Boat"
See my previous Post...
See my previous post titled Deer Hunting 2004
I have seen a full sized doe that looked just like this (only larger) and in a natural setting (not someone's living room). A co-worker sent me these photos, and I was INSTANTLY taken back...
Today - A guest writer!
It's not a "Father-of-five" entry, but... This is too good to not post.
Over the last couple of days, Ed has called me and told me a tale of how he and a neighbor of his caught a poacher hunting in their back yards...
Here is that story. The only "edits" were to change any identifying names or "employers" of Ed's neighbor.
Take it away Ed....
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On 11-19-06 at 5:40 pm, I was sitting at my computer when I heard a gun shot from my back yard. I am an avid hunter and recognized the sound. As I looked out my patio door to see what happened, I noticed a stopped vehicle on Hwy. ** begin to head southbound. Knowing something was not right, I called Good Neighbor **** (who works for the ****** PD) to let him know what happened. **** was not home and I had to leave a message on his answering machine. I then walked out to my garage and grabbed a spot light. As I shone it in the back yard, I saw a doe laying down at the back of my property looking at me. I walked a couple of paces towards her to see if she would stand up. She did not. I backed off and went back into the house to have dinner. I would check on her in about a half hour to see if she was still there. After dinner, I looked for her and noticed she had moved. I walked further into my back yard and found her laying down again about 25' from where she was before. This time I could see a small patch of blood on her belly. As she was still alive, this did not sit well with me. I then called 911 and let them know what happened and had them send an officer out to dispatch the deer. Five minutes later, I noticed lights were on at Good Neighbor ****'s house. I called him to let him know what was going on. He asked me to meet him in the back yard in a few minutes as he was calling the ****** PD to let them know that he would dispatch the deer. As **** and I approached her, she got spooked and ran into the woods. She only ran about 150' then lay back down. We gave her a couple minutes to settle down before we started to look for her. This time we did not try to get as close as we did before. **** had a good, safe head shot and took it (**** keeps his squad car at home with his Remington 870 shot gun).
We noticed a gunshot wound which entered low and just behind the stomach and came out her shoulder, totally destroying it. **** was very upset that someone was 1) hunting inside city limits, 2) hunting after legal shooting hours, and 3) shooting a weapon within 75 yards my house. **** had another officer come out to the house and give me a Deer Possession Permit. **** and I hung the deer up in my garage and we called it a night.
The next morning at 7:00 am, I noticed a guy walking in my back yard following the blood trail from last night! I could not believe what I was seeing. I called Good Neighbor **** and woke him out of a dead sleep. I told him there was a guy walking the blood trail in our back yards. After **** shook the cobwebs out of his head, he had me meet him in the back yard. The guy was still about 40 yards away when **** asked him what he was doing. The guy replied that he had shot a deer last night and was trying to find it. **** asked him to come closer and asked the question again. The guy said "I shot a deer on the other side of the highway last night and I'm trying to find it." **** told him he cannot hunt within city limits and asked him for his I.D. The guy asked **** why he was asking so many questions and that he did not have to answer to him. That's when **** politely informed him that he would have to answer to him and that he was a cop. Not believing what **** told him, the guy insisted upon seeing ****'s I.D. **** told him "I don't have my I.D. on me but we can walk to the other side of my garage and I'll show you my squad car." At that point, one word came to mind...NICE! Then another word came to mind...IDIOT! **** asked him where he was parked. His vehicle was about a 2 blocks away parked on Hwy. **. As we all walked towards the guy's truck, he told **** that he followed the blood trail to a gut pile just under ****'s deer stand. **** looked at him and told him that's not a deer stand, that's a fort my kid built about 10 years ago. Another word came to mind...DUMB ASS! About half way to the guy's vehicle, **** had me call 911 and have them dispatch a squad to their location.
As we were waiting for the squad, the guy still did not believe **** was an officer and continued to challenge him, claiming that **** had not shown him any I.D. **** tells the guy "my neighbor called me at 7 am and woke me up. I didn't have time to grab my I.D. You'll just have to trust me on this and we can sort it all out when the squad arrives." When the squad arrives, **** walks over to the officer and they begin to talk about what happened behind the squad car. As they were talking, the guy walked up to me and asks if I was the landowner. I told him that both **** and I were the landowners out here. The guy then asks me "so he really lives in that house?" I said, "Yes, he really lives in that house." The guy didn't say another word but his non-verbal communication was...PRICELESS!
As **** and the other officer confronted the guy, **** asked the officer to confirm that he was a cop because the guy didn't believe him. The officer looked at the guy and said, "yep, he works for us." The guy told the officer that he never knew what ****'s name was. The officer replied "don't worry, his name will be in my report". "And my report" **** said.
I thought to myself...What drives a man to poach a deer in a cop's back yard???
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I would like to personally thank both Ed and his neighbor for standing up and doing the right thing! Kudos to both of them!
David.
Over the last couple of days, Ed has called me and told me a tale of how he and a neighbor of his caught a poacher hunting in their back yards...
Here is that story. The only "edits" were to change any identifying names or "employers" of Ed's neighbor.
Take it away Ed....
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On 11-19-06 at 5:40 pm, I was sitting at my computer when I heard a gun shot from my back yard. I am an avid hunter and recognized the sound. As I looked out my patio door to see what happened, I noticed a stopped vehicle on Hwy. ** begin to head southbound. Knowing something was not right, I called Good Neighbor **** (who works for the ****** PD) to let him know what happened. **** was not home and I had to leave a message on his answering machine. I then walked out to my garage and grabbed a spot light. As I shone it in the back yard, I saw a doe laying down at the back of my property looking at me. I walked a couple of paces towards her to see if she would stand up. She did not. I backed off and went back into the house to have dinner. I would check on her in about a half hour to see if she was still there. After dinner, I looked for her and noticed she had moved. I walked further into my back yard and found her laying down again about 25' from where she was before. This time I could see a small patch of blood on her belly. As she was still alive, this did not sit well with me. I then called 911 and let them know what happened and had them send an officer out to dispatch the deer. Five minutes later, I noticed lights were on at Good Neighbor ****'s house. I called him to let him know what was going on. He asked me to meet him in the back yard in a few minutes as he was calling the ****** PD to let them know that he would dispatch the deer. As **** and I approached her, she got spooked and ran into the woods. She only ran about 150' then lay back down. We gave her a couple minutes to settle down before we started to look for her. This time we did not try to get as close as we did before. **** had a good, safe head shot and took it (**** keeps his squad car at home with his Remington 870 shot gun).
We noticed a gunshot wound which entered low and just behind the stomach and came out her shoulder, totally destroying it. **** was very upset that someone was 1) hunting inside city limits, 2) hunting after legal shooting hours, and 3) shooting a weapon within 75 yards my house. **** had another officer come out to the house and give me a Deer Possession Permit. **** and I hung the deer up in my garage and we called it a night.
The next morning at 7:00 am, I noticed a guy walking in my back yard following the blood trail from last night! I could not believe what I was seeing. I called Good Neighbor **** and woke him out of a dead sleep. I told him there was a guy walking the blood trail in our back yards. After **** shook the cobwebs out of his head, he had me meet him in the back yard. The guy was still about 40 yards away when **** asked him what he was doing. The guy replied that he had shot a deer last night and was trying to find it. **** asked him to come closer and asked the question again. The guy said "I shot a deer on the other side of the highway last night and I'm trying to find it." **** told him he cannot hunt within city limits and asked him for his I.D. The guy asked **** why he was asking so many questions and that he did not have to answer to him. That's when **** politely informed him that he would have to answer to him and that he was a cop. Not believing what **** told him, the guy insisted upon seeing ****'s I.D. **** told him "I don't have my I.D. on me but we can walk to the other side of my garage and I'll show you my squad car." At that point, one word came to mind...NICE! Then another word came to mind...IDIOT! **** asked him where he was parked. His vehicle was about a 2 blocks away parked on Hwy. **. As we all walked towards the guy's truck, he told **** that he followed the blood trail to a gut pile just under ****'s deer stand. **** looked at him and told him that's not a deer stand, that's a fort my kid built about 10 years ago. Another word came to mind...DUMB ASS! About half way to the guy's vehicle, **** had me call 911 and have them dispatch a squad to their location.
As we were waiting for the squad, the guy still did not believe **** was an officer and continued to challenge him, claiming that **** had not shown him any I.D. **** tells the guy "my neighbor called me at 7 am and woke me up. I didn't have time to grab my I.D. You'll just have to trust me on this and we can sort it all out when the squad arrives." When the squad arrives, **** walks over to the officer and they begin to talk about what happened behind the squad car. As they were talking, the guy walked up to me and asks if I was the landowner. I told him that both **** and I were the landowners out here. The guy then asks me "so he really lives in that house?" I said, "Yes, he really lives in that house." The guy didn't say another word but his non-verbal communication was...PRICELESS!
As **** and the other officer confronted the guy, **** asked the officer to confirm that he was a cop because the guy didn't believe him. The officer looked at the guy and said, "yep, he works for us." The guy told the officer that he never knew what ****'s name was. The officer replied "don't worry, his name will be in my report". "And my report" **** said.
I thought to myself...What drives a man to poach a deer in a cop's back yard???
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I would like to personally thank both Ed and his neighbor for standing up and doing the right thing! Kudos to both of them!
David.
Deer Hunting #2 2006
Well, I have unfortunately done what I have told myself that would not do again. That was "put off" writing about my outdoor experiences. It is currently March, and I am writing about a hunting trip I took in November. Fortunately for me this trip was VERY uneventful, and so it will be easy to write about, and not be a very long post.
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As I spoke about in an earlier post, this year I was able to partake in two hunts. My first trip was with Ed to his cabin (which I had not visited in many years) and a second with Joe (my father in law). Joe and I have been hunting at my Uncle Greg's cabin for a few years now, but this year we decided to return to the family farm in Fairmont, Minnesota.
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In years past, we have rented a hotel and spent the night in Fairmont. This year, we decided to just make it "day trips" between Jordan and Fairmont (about 90 minutes). We got an early start. Joe picked me up at home, and we headed out from my house.
In years past, we have rented a hotel and spent the night in Fairmont. This year, we decided to just make it "day trips" between Jordan and Fairmont (about 90 minutes). We got an early start. Joe picked me up at home, and we headed out from my house.
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We arrived (at about sunrise) - a few minutes after legal shooting hours. I set myself up at the far north end of the farm (Right side of the picture at the green arrow) and Joe drove to the far south end of the farm (Left side of the picture). We decided to sit tight until lunch time and then we would quietly "push" towards each other, meeting in the middle of the farm.
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I set up at the top of a pretty big hill, where I could get a good view of the creek bed (looking south), in front of me (looking west).
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As I sat, watched the sun rise, I started hearing rustling down in the fields in and around the creek. The sounds I was hearing was not loud enough to be deer, so I sat and watched the grass rustle, until I could make out what it was that was causing all the movement. Pheasants! Lots, and lots of Pheasant. If memory serves me correctly, I saw close to fourteen Pheasants that morning, and three or four roosters!! This would have been an OUTSTANDING morning for Pheasant hunting, but - as it was I was deer hunting - So I kept to what I was there for, and enjoyed watching the pheasants running around. Honestly, a few times they "startled" me as they flushed from the brush! I made a game of identifying (as fast as I could) hen or rooster. The first couple took me a little longer, but it was just a few minutes, and I was right back to being able to pick out the roosters!.
As morning turned to afternoon, I moved a little more "up" the hillside to where the "farm" met the "field". There is a little barbwire fence there, and I set up along one of the fence posts.
Within an hour or so, I noticed (way off on the opposite end of the farm) Joe had started pushing along the fence, towards me. It would easily be another 30 minutes before he would reach me, so I sat at closely watched the creek bed. (My eight point buck jumped out of this same creek bed within about seventy-five yards from me back in 1998 - So I was ready to expect anything (or... Nothing)).
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As it turned out, I was ready to expect - nothing... Joe arrived, and we decided to head back to the car. It was around noon, and Joe needed to eat lunch. This time, on our trip back to the far end of the farm (where Joe parked his car) - we walked the creek bed. We were way down in the valley, and walked through all the tall grass.
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As expected, I kicked up a few more pheasants, and not a single deer.
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As it turned out, I was ready to expect - nothing... Joe arrived, and we decided to head back to the car. It was around noon, and Joe needed to eat lunch. This time, on our trip back to the far end of the farm (where Joe parked his car) - we walked the creek bed. We were way down in the valley, and walked through all the tall grass.
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As expected, I kicked up a few more pheasants, and not a single deer.
We walked across the farm to the car. We packed up the guns, and as we headed out to lunch, Joe asked how I felt about "calling it a season".
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After my experience at Ed's cabin, and such a still and quiet morning, I was ready.
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After my experience at Ed's cabin, and such a still and quiet morning, I was ready.
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I agreed, thus ending my 2006 hunting season.
Deer hunting #1 2006
First of all, it needs to be said that I was looking forward to returning to Ed's cabin again this year! It was an interesting year for deer hunting for me!
For the first time in TEN YEARS I hunted deer with Ed at his cabin. I was so excited to return, and I believe Ed was excited to have me back as well! My deer hunting experience started about 14 years ago. The first four or five years I hunted deer, was with Ed and his cabin. Nine years ago, my father-in-law asked me to join him deer hunting on their family farm in Fairmont, so I started deer hunting with Joe. Due to time, money, and license considerations, I was only able to hunt with Joe. (Has it been that long? Well, I just checked. My first Deer Hunting trip away from Ed's Cabin was in 1997 - I Deer hunted at Ed's cabin in 1996, so that means it has been ten years.)
Because of the way my work schedule fell into place, and (Since I bought the "Statewide All Season" license (SEE HERE)) I was able to hunt at both Ed's cabin and then a week later down south with Joe (my father in law) on their family farm.
Pre-Trip and Day 1
I had to prepare for the trip early, as I was leaving directly from work on Friday.
I had not yet got my license, so I had to make a stop at Cabella's again. As expected, the line was long. I took my place in line and settled in for a long wait. About 15 minutes into the wait (now about 6 people back from the front of the line, and with three other people behind me, an employee approached the line and said that he wanted the last 4 people (me and the three guys behind me))to turn around and go to the "Bait Shop" cashier, as they were going to start issuing licenses. Well, we did as we were told, and all turned around and walked away. As we did this (since I was "first" in the line of the four guys) as we turned around I became the "last" in the line of 4. This really was not a big deal to me at all because I was at least six people back in the main line, now I would only be four people back. As we got into the bait shop, the three guys in front of me all told me to go ahead of them, as I was in line before they were, and they all subsequently took their "respective" places in line. That, dear readers is what being a good person at heart is all about. I would have been fine being the fourth in line, but these guys all recognized the "order" in which we were, and respected that (without any input). I think this is what you will find in the hearts of MOST hunters. Good people.
I got my license, settled back into the car, and started off on my journey. I again prepared a CD of "Ron & Fez" shows (Best damn radio show on the planet), and I was so looking forward to spending a good couple of hours with the buddays (a show reference), but to my very strong disappointment, the CD I made had some sort of fatal error, and my player did not recognize the files. I was so disappointed. I had my back-up plan in place, and turned on the XM radio. Second choice: Opie & Anthony.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. I made it all the way to Aitkin. Checked in on the Cell phone with Michele, and with Ed before I lost the signal, and finished up the last 30 minutes of the trip.
The last leg of the journey is spend driving a dirt road thru the woods to the access road to Ed's cabin. While on this road, three deer crossed in front of me close enough to cause me to have to break quickly. (I am not traveling fast enough on this road to "lock 'em up".) I took this as a good sign!
Ed and John were already at the cabin, so when I arrived, things were well underway. Ed was just putting "dinner" (and I use that term loosely) on the fire, so I started to unpack. By the time I had my stuff stashed in the cabin, John started to set the table, and I helped him while Ed finished cooking. Well, "dinner" (which was more like a delectable, bountiful feast) consisted of 3 Black Angus Porterhouse steaks each weighing in at just about a pound and a quarter (They came from Ed's local butcher "Superior Meats") and "70 minute" wild rice. No exaggeration here folks... I like steak, don't get me wrong. I do not often buy or order it myself (I am not sure why), but I can -without any doubt or exaggeration - say that these were the best steaks I have ever had in my entire life. They cut with a fork. I honestly did not need a knife to eat mine. Out of respect for Ed I wont mention what he paid for these magnificent cuts, but rest assured they were the most amazing steaks I have ever had.
After dinner, we sat around the fire, smoking cigars, and enjoying one another's company.
Day 2
This was the first morning of hunting. Since just Ed and I were going out to hunt. Having been so many years since I last hunted at Ed's, I was not familiar with where all the deer stands are. They have names for each of the stands, and (because John was not hunting), I got his spot at the "Penthouse". Ed had to walk me to the area, and point it out to me, then he went off to his stand. "The Penthouse" is a nice sized stand with steps up and a patio chair, wrapped in camouflaged netting. It faces north, overlooking a large dip in the terrain. The backdrop is the lake, so other than an extreme angle to your right (east), you have a pretty safe shot.
I climbed up, settled into the stand, and dozed off for a while. I awoke just before legal hunting hours, and just started "observing" around me. I again got to watch a Pileated Woodpecker fly from tree to tree all around me. That was a beautiful site! Other than the squirrels playing in the leaves, and chasing each other up and down the trees, the morning was uneventful.
About mid morning, I turned around and noticed Ed walking slowly back past my stand, towards the cabin. He was quite a ways off, and was moving very slowly. I thought it was odd that he was heading back so soon, but since I had not hunted at the cabin for so many years, I thought maybe that's just the way he hunted. As Ed got closer, I noticed something "odd". Ed kept "fanning" the area around his "backside". He would walk a few paces, stop, and fan - walk a few paces, stop, and fan. I did not pick up on that he was trying to signal me, so I started packing up my gear, and slowly (matching Ed's stride) met up with him. When I met up with him I discovered he had to head back in to yield the "call of nature"... So, I slowly made my way back to the stand, and resumed hunting. The next couple of hours were very quiet. I saw nothing more. I decided to call it a morning, and head back in.
We spent the remainder of the day around the fire, reading Cabella's catalogues, throwing rocks on the ice, and visiting.
As evening approached, we prepared to return to the field. We both took up our original positions, (I was in the "Penthouse" again) and settled in. I could hear a few shots off in the distance, but nothing too close.
It was about the time I had started "nodding off" when from my right (east) I could hear some rustling in the leaves, and as I turned and looked, I noticed two does walking along my side of ridge on the opposite side of the valley. The lead doe was larger than the second, so I made my choice. I raised my gun, and put the cross hairs on the deer, and started following her. As she crossed thru my field of vision, I waited for a better shot. I was not until about two thirds of the way thru my field of vision that a shot opened up in my scope. She was slowly walking, when I took a shot. Both deer froze for just the most brief of moments, and then started more of a gallop down the same path they were on. I saw no signs of a hit. Both deer were still within (what I felt was) my range of fire, so I ejected, and chambered the next round. I quickly shouldered the gun, and got her back in the cross hair. This was a little bit more difficult shot, as she was moving a bit faster. I lined up what I thought would be a good shot, and took it. This time, I saw her hind legs kick out like a mule, and now she ran hard and fast to the left (Westbound). I was pretty sure I had hit her this time.
I have learned over the years, that the best thing to do after hitting a deer (weather it was a kill/drop or a wound/flee) is to sit. I have been told and read about a couple of different theories over the years, but a conservative average seems to be twenty minutes. So I sat. I sat for what seemed like a very long time. As I sat, I started worrying that she may be out there suffering, and that by waiting, I am just allowing it to happen. As the time passed, I felt more and more "paranoid" that perhaps I should go out and end any suffering I have caused this deer, and in the end, (against my own "better judgement") I started to climb down out of the deer stand after just under ten minutes. (Ten minutes does not seem that long, but when you are sitting there just waiting for time to pass, time seems to slow down).
I had marked (in my mind) where I felt I hit the deer, and started off in that general direction. I was quiet as I approached the area, trying to listen carefully to everything around me. I heard nothing. My hope was that I had hit her critically enough that she just dropped over dead a few dozen yards from the kill site. When I arrived at the area I thought I hit her, I began my search. I could not locate anything in the "exact" area I estimated, so I started a "spiral" search.
After covering the area I was sure I had hit her in and finding nothing, I was starting to wonder if I hit her at all, or if I hit her, was just a grazing wound, or a would that would have bled very little. I decided to walk in the direction the deer fled. About fifteen yards from where I "thought" I hit her, I noticed the tell-tale signs confirming I did indeed hit her... Blood.
It was now sundown, and getting dark, about 30 minutes before the end of legal shooting hours. Now that I had a blood trail, I thought for sure I would be bringing a deer back to camp! I began following the blood trail. It started off pretty easy. The trail headed west-south-west along a level plane, and then started heading up the hill in a more south-west direction. I (for a moment) lost the trail, but picked it up again very quickly. The trail continued up the hill until it reached a small opening in a small patch between several trees. Here, I lost the trail. I went over, and over the trail. I started from the beginning again, and followed the trail two more times. By now it was dark enough that without my flashlight, I could not see the blood on the ground, and finding the "next droplet" was getting harder even when I knew "about" where it was.
It was with a very heavy heart that I decided to head back to the cabin, and with head hung low, and a sick feeling in my stomach, I sulked back.
When I arrived at the cabin, John was sitting by the fire, and Ed had not yet returned from the field. John asked if the shots he had heard were mine, and so as I unloaded, and unpacked my gear for the night, I shared my woeful tale with him. About three-quarters of the way thru the story, Ed came traipsing back through the woods to the cabin (empty handed), and so I re-told the story again.
This was one of the worst feelings I have ever had. By this point, I was contemplating the possibility of giving up hunting altogether. The thought of having injured a deer (and not killing it), and of it still in the field somewhere suffering, was one that truly hit me HARD. Ed and John both tried to make me feel a little better, and they shared their stories of "lost deer" over the years - which made me feel better in that I was not the only one who has ever done this, but it did not make me feel better about the deer that was still in the field. Both John and Ed (again trying to reassure me) convinced me that this deer will most likely not make it through the night, or the next day or two, and that it will not go to waste because other animals will eat the deer. This only slightly improved my demeanor.
It was now dinner time. Ed had picked up 6 of the biggest country style pork ribs I have ever seen. Combined they weighed in just under 5lbs (they were so big we each had only 1 rib). These ribs were so good, they took my mind off the injured deer in the woods (at least for a few minutes). The remainder of that night was spent visiting, drinking and smoking. We decided (even though I had already decided this) that after the morning hunt, Ed and I would together try and pick up the blood trail again in the morning.
That evening, I had a hard time sleeping, and (for the first time in all the years I have been visiting the cabin) I had to use the outhouse... If you know what I mean... (This is a story for another time.)
Day 3
My final day for deer hunting at Ed's cabin.
After a long and restless night, the alarm clock woke me, and I found that foreboding feeling still lingering. During my "long and restless" night I had decided that I was not going to fire my gun at another deer this weekend. NO MATTER WHAT. A state record setting buck could cross within feet of my stand, and I was going to take photos of it - nothing more. I trudged through the woods, made it to the stand, settled in, and (I think because of my "long and restless night") quickly fell asleep. I stayed asleep well into legal shooting hours. This was alright because some time after 9am I was going to get down from the stand and resume my search where I left off yesterday.
About 8:45 am I had decided that I was going to wait another hour before resuming my search. I knew Ed was out hunting, and I did not want to make too much commotion. By 9:15 am, my impatience caught up with me, and I slowly and quietly came down from the stand, and started from the beginning again.
I found the trail right away, and followed it as I had several times the day before. The trail was much easier to see in the full light of the day.
In the full light of day, it only took me a few minutes to discover that the deer had stopped in the opening (where I had lost the trail the day before) and had doubled back (about 2 feet away from her original path - which is why I think I did not see the 2nd trail - The trails were so close to each other that it was hard to tell them apart ). This is where my degree in law enforcement helped out a bit. During my training, we learned a bit about blood droplets and how to "read" them. Today in the daylight the subtle differences were apparent. Within minutes, I had picked up the trail again.
I followed the trail for what seemed like a long distance (now that I look back, I can see how short it was compared to the yet undiscovered portion of the trail), when I happened along a (what I thought to be) larger "pooling" of blood. It was evident that this is where the deer stopped for period. I would estimate the pooling to be the diameter of a softball. I did take photographic "evidence" of said spot, and then continued along the trail. About the same distance between "lost trail spot" and "blood spot 1", I came across a place that I believe she bedded down for the night. Here was a significant amount of blood pooled, and it was still fresh, bright red and wet - (I believe that she laid down here, and by doing so, covered the blood keeping it from drying out.) This spot is where I started feeling a little better. Having lost this much blood, I hoped that (assuming continued bleeding) this deer would not be able to last long. Again after taking photographic "evidence", I continued down the trail.
I was easily 30 minutes into a search now, and still had a trail to follow. I was beginning to be hopeful that I may yet find the deer. Several yards west of "blood pool 2" the trail took an abrupt turn right (north) along a very thick and dense area of growth. As I headed north, the land I was on was getting lower, and we entered a portion of the property that is swamp. Lots of downed trees, sunken areas, small mounds... Very rugged terrain.
I followed the trail north, as it wove between trees, stumps, rocks, and mounds. The blood droplets were beginning to get significantly smaller, and harder to find. I would have been about an hour into this search by now, and I kept up hope that just around the next tree, or behind that next log, I would find a deer carcass. I heard some crashing to my right (west), and listened carefully as the sound moved north, then east. I very large doe (not the one I shot - no signs of blood on it) come crashing thru the brush, stop and look at me, then leap up, and bound off in a westerly direction at a high rate of speed. Just shortly after seeing the doe run by me, I actually lost the trail all together. I backtracked and found the trail, and stated again. Still not finding anything, I left my bag at the last droplet, and started a spiral search around the area.
After several spirals around the last known sign of the deer, I started hearing Ed come down the hill into the swamp. He met up with me, and I filled him in with what I had found, and where I was in search up to this point. We (together) started searching for signs, and it was not long after that Ed (being the fine outdoors man / hunter that he is) picked up on the trail again, and we continued down the trail.
One thing Ed did different that I did (and I learned from) was he left a blaze orange item at each of the spots we passed, so we could "see" the trail that the deer took, and if we lost the trail, it was very easy to find the last known spot. After two or three more droplets were found, we went back and grabbed the orange item furthest behind us and used that for the next marker (leap frog style).
(Note to self: Get a roll of blaze orange trail marker to throw in your hunting bag so you don't need to "leap frog".)
By now there were not more droplets on the ground at all. We were finding where the deer brushed up against a tree, or a leaf or a branch. The trail was becoming more and more difficult to follow. A couple of times we really had a hard time finding the next sign of blood, but after a close search, we came up with one.
Things went like this for another hour or more. After 30 minutes of unsuccessfully searching beyond the last sign of blood (with other evidence to go off of) we decided to call off our search. This pretty much ruined the rest of my day. I was hoping I would either find the injured doe, or a deceased doe. I so wanted to do the right thing.
I started my second walk of dread back to the cabin with my spirits broken.
The rest of the afternoon was spent around the fire, around the shed(s) (A.K.A. - "Man Central"), around the lake, playing with Jake.. Ya know.. just doin' "man stuff".
When the time came around for the evening hunt, I was again reminded about how bad I was feeling about the injured doe. As I dressed for the field, I reminded myself that this trip to the woods was to relax, take in the sights, sounds, smells and sounds of the woods ONLY. I was feeling stressed out enough, and an afternoon (nap?) in the woods was just what the doctor ordered.
Ed went back to his regular stand, and this afternoon, John was going to use the penthouse, so I went back and sat at Jim's (a good friend and former neighbor of Ed's) stand. The stand sits along the south ridge of a bowl shaped valley. The other side of the bowl is over 100 yards. The first thing I noticed what I got to Jim's stand is how much smaller it was than the penthouse. That is not all bad. It had a more "cozy" feel to it, and honestly it was easier to sit and lean back against the tree. (The penthouse has a chair in it.). The afternoon was perfect. The weather was perfect. It was a great afternoon, and although I did not nap, it was just what the doctor ordered. The other observation I had was the proximity to Ed's stand. I was less than one hundred yards away, but we were effectively back to back. His blaze orange stood out, and was very easy to spot, as was (I assume) mine. I know that I was not going to be doing ANY shooting, and I trust Ed's shooting completely, so it was a non issue.
After the events of the weekend, and looking at a long drive home, I decided that I was going to pack it in around 4pm. That way I could be back to the cabin, packed up and ready to hit the road between 5:00 - 5:30pm. I settled into the stand and started to let myself "de-stress".
The "de-stressing" was going along quite well. Around 3:30 I started noticing movement on the ridge across the valley from me. I knew right away by the coloring and the movement that I was looking at a doe. I grabbed my binoculars and watched as the doe started walking a perpendicular line across my field of vision. The deer was way out of a "responsible" shot (regardless of my earlier bad experience). As I sat and glassed the deer, I immediately noticed two other deer. I sat back, and watched the three deer pass. About the time they were straight out in front of me, a fourth and much larger buck followed along the same path. The does went over a small crest and rallied in a small opening. By this time I was having to really strain to see them between all the trees that blocked my line of sight. I could hear them continue in a west-south-westerly direction, and thought perhaps Ed was going to have a shot at them. I sat and waited for the rapport from the .30-06. Nothing came. I refocused my attention on the buck, and watched as it followed along the same path the does took.
Anyway, when I was convinced that the deer were well out of Ed's range, I settled in for the last 20 minutes or so before I was going to head in. I closed my eyes, and started to think back on the trip (and how to blog about it) when >>BOOM<<.
This point of the story is out of my hands. I know there is a story on how the deer crossed back and forth thru Ed's field of vision. Perhaps he could send it to me, and I could add it in... Ed?
I turned to look back where Ed was, and noticed him sitting still in a shooting stance, looking thru his scope. I tried to glass him with the binoculars, but had only a very limited view (due to trees in the way). I kept watching for him to signal me, but he just stayed still. I was not even sure he was the one that fired until I noticed him slowly sliding the bolt action. He returned to the shooting position, and I was still waiting for a signal of one kind or another. When I never got one, I settled back into my seat. I was confident Ed knew what he was doing, so I just settled in.
>>BOOM<<
I look back, and it did not appear Ed had even moved. He was still in the sitting position. This time the difference was that he was not quite as "still" as he slid the bolt back. I saw him pick up his binoculars and look off into the distance. After a moment, he turned to look at me, then back out over the deer stand again. If he got a deer, I knew he was going to sit tight for a while, so again I settled in. This time frequently turning to check on Ed.
It was only a few minutes before I saw him stand up, turn to me, and wave me over. I packed my gear up, and started down, and towards Ed's stand. When I got there, he relayed to me the story of having seen the same set of deer, watched them as they continued away from where I was, and then curved around. Again, I hope to add some details here from Ed, but the second shot was the charm. We walked across an open area, and then into a swampy, overgrown area, and laying before us was a 4 point buck! I broke out the camera and took some field photos, and we got the business of field dressing the buck.
After field dressing the buck, we had to drag it about half the way back to the stand, as we could not get an ATV back into the swampy area that the buck dropped. We dragged the deer to an opening, and started heading back to the penthouse where John was hunting. He used a ATV to get into the woods, and had it parked a distance away from the stand. Ed and his dad grabbed the ATV and went to get the buck, while I headed back to the cabin.
I arrived at the cabin and found Chris (Ed's brother in law) at the cabin. We said our hellos and I started telling him both stories (Ed's success, and my failure). He told me the story about how he had "got one" a few days prior, when he hit a deer with the car he was driving (a work vehicle). As we told our stories, I began to pack up. By the time I had all my things packed and laid out to pack in the car, Ed and John pulled up with the deer. Together we got the deer hung, and cleaned a little more. Jake was very interested in the deer!
After hanging and cleaning the deer, I started to pack the car, and was just about ready to head out when Ed broke out dinner for the third night. He had humongous butter-garlic marinated chicken breasts. Let's just say he did not have to work too hard to convince me to stay for dinner!
After dinner I was all packed up, so we cleaned up, and started saying goodbyes when another vehicle pulled up the road. Ed's Mom, Sister (Chris' wife), their daughter, and a family friend stopped up to see how things were going. It was great to see Ed's mom again. She has been my "2nd mother" over the years, and any time I get the chance to visit with her, I take the opportunity!
After a short visit, it was time for me to head out. My drive home was uneventful, and gave me a chance to reflect on the weekend.
To try and help alleviate the guild I was feeling about wounding the deer this year, I (make fun of me if you want, but I am - after all - A faithful Catholic) prayed to
1. The first thing I did was return to work with a resolve to update and improve the "Deer List" which had not been done in two years.
2. I decided that before firing a slug thru the barrel of that gun again, I was (at least) going to get it bore sighted again, and site the gun in again. I would love to get myself a rifle, but at this time in my life - I just cannot afford one. If I cannot do these things, I will not be slug hunting with that gun until I do.
3. I have also resolved to spend some extra time (which is very valuable to me, and I have precious little of as it is) "re-educating" myself on deer hunting techniques, tips, and so-forth.
4. I will make additional donation(s) to a wildlife program.
5. I will share this story with my boys before they hunt, so they too can learn from my mistakes.
My hope is that whatever happened to the deer, did not happen in vain. I like to think I learned from this experience, and that the deer either "made it" (which I doubt) or that the deer was used as food by other scavengers in the woods, and at least some form of benefit will come of the tragedy of this weekend.
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