Winter Wonderland

2018 has been a fantastic year for deer hunting. To begin with, my mom harvested a three point buck during Oklahoma’s muzzleloader season. Later in November, dad and I drew out on a coveted lottery hunt for McGee Creek Wildlife Management Area in southeastern Oklahoma where he harvested a six point buck on the second day of hunting. To boot, we picked a passel of delicious smooth and cinnabar chanterelle mushrooms. Oklahoma’s regular firearms season found us taking another four deer as a family, including a nine point buck that walked my way on opening morning. Yet, I’m compelled to relate the tale of the smallest deer that I harvested this year.

After a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday in southeastern Kansas we drove home to settle in just in time for a statewide blizzard that howled with 55+ MPH winds and dumped a fair covering of snow on the Kansas prairies and croplands. While snowbound and putting up Christmas decorations, the worst sensation possible settled on me: I was getting sick before the Kansas firearms opening day. Nonetheless, the night prior to the fateful day I had assembled a frame pack of 30 lbs or so of gear and pulled out my most weather-resistant rifle. I was going to kill a deer, cold or no cold. The alarm sounded way too early but I made a stout cup of tea and downed cold medicine before heading out the door.

NWS Recap of the Blizzard

I arrived at the public hunting area 50 minutes away from my house to find the accumulated snow relatively unmolested by other foot traffic. One other hunter was parked there, but his tracks peeled off early and I knew he wasn’t going to ruin things for me. We were going deep! Some weeks before I had attempted to jump-shoot wood ducks on a creek on the property and had found a thrilling amount of sign—countless tracks, numerous rubs, and at least 17 scrapes. The highest concentration of sign was far into the area, some 1.5 miles pasts the parking spot and scattered along a creek bordering a field of soybeans and corn that had a newly placed highline clearing cut through a piece of timber. It was the sort of area that a deer hunter dreams about, featuring edges, transition zones, and funnels. When I discovered it I placed a waypoint via Google Maps and said, “Yea, verily, here I shall hunt!” Probably, I did not say this—but I thought as much!

Numerous Deer Sign Promised Good Hunting

The walk in was not fun. I had the pack cinched on tight, was plodding through snow in neoprene-rubber boots, and a chest full of mucus was not helping things. Somehow, I arrived on site around 6:39 AM and did not lay down and cry in the snow. Since there was minimal cover on the creek-side I elected to tuck myself into a little brush and sat upon a folding stool that I had packed in with me. Given my vista of open fields and a highline clearing I knew that a longer shot was a possibility. This was a little bit unnatural for me. From 2014-2017 I had killed seven deer and the average shot distance was a mere 76 yards. What is more, I don’t exactly own a “long-range rig” but I do have a couple rifles certainly capable of stretching shots out a bit further that what I had been making. In light of this, I packed along a modified camera tripod that I had painted OD green and to which I had affixed a y-yoke instead of a camera adaptor. This allowed me to set up a field rest that was very solid.

A Steady Rest, A Trusty Rifle

After getting my chair and rest set up I immediately noticed that there was a deer silhouetted against the snowy field several hundred yards away from me. I hurriedly grabbed my rangefinder and lazed the deer at 330 yards. However, when I looked at the scene through my rifle scope things were a bit discouraging. The deer was a really long ways off (further than I had shot one since the early 2000s), the morning sky was still pretty dark, and the deer had reversed course and was returning to the timber edge back to the south. I chose to wait.

 The deer vanished but another reappeared around 6:55 AM. At this point the sky had noticeably lightened and the snowfield had practically illuminated the quarry. I adjusted my tripod and prepared to make the shot. There was only one problem: my safety was frozen. I slowly worked the bolt and tried again. The safety unfroze enough to function again. Even at 22 F, excess lubrication of your rifle can do dastardly things! Once I acquired my target I lamented my optics a bit. I had a fine Leupold VX2 3-9x40mm scope, but I had opted for a German #4 reticule which is normally perfect for my hunting style but less than optimal for gunnery at extended ranges. Nonetheless, I had a solid rest, had checked my rifle’s dope with my .338 Winchester Magnum handloads (250 gr. Nosler Partition, Hodgdon H4381SC powder) and felt comfortable making the shot.

.338 Winchester - 250 gr Nosler Partition (G1 .473) - 2,700 FPS 

When I squeezed the trigger I heard the unmistakable thump of the heavy Partition striking flesh. After I recovered from the recoil it was evident that the deer had not even made it out of its tracks. I was elated. As a crossed the soybeans I remarked to myself regarding how blessed I had been this season. Upon arrival, I placed my hands on a humanely harvested yearling doe and thought of the many fine meals to come. I applied my tag, dressed the deer, and then looped a length of paracord around the deer’s neck to make an expedient drag system. The snow parted easily and I felt myself warmed as a returned to my overwatch, overjoyed with the day’s success.

How excited can you get over a small deer? Very. 

“But why quit now, I thought?” The day had barely begun and I still had an either-sex tag in my pocket! I fished an extra blaze orange cap from my bag and placed it on the deer which I had tucked away in some brush so as to ensure that no one else considered shooting it. Just minutes later a murder of crows descended on the entrails and made a raucous feast. As I watched the crows on and off in the bitter cold I decided that if I was going to stick it out I had better redouble my resolve. I swapped my Stormy Kromer hat for a full face mask, opened a pair of hand-warmers, and retrieved an extra pair of fleece pants for use as a blanket. By the time I had these accoutrements assembled I noticed another animal crossing the field. It was a bobcat! Surprisingly, it didn’t seem to care the least bit about the crows, or the gut pile, or the weird furrow stretching across the open field. It walked with purpose. Just as it reached the opposite edge of the field I fell in disbelief when its mate emerged from the other side—two bobcats! I rarely encounter these secretive cats while hunting so I enjoyed watching them but they disappeared as quickly as they made an entrance.

I then did what stand hunters do. I watched and waited, waited and watched. Geese cackled. Crows cawed. Turkeys yelped. The whole world seemed to be filled with potential and all of God’s creatures had business at hand. Hunting is always a pleasure but when the world is alive and there is snow on the ground it is exceptionally enchanting. When you are afforded the opportunity to view wildlife in their natural environs and without their knowledge of your presence you occasionally get to witness odd comedies. During my wait I listened to a hen turkey for most of the morning. When she appeared on stage she immediately noticed the crows and I could practically hear her say, “What are those guys up to?” She made a direct line for the crows, flushing them off of their buffet, and annoying them to no end. She inspected the pile, probably decided that she preferred frozen soybeans, and marched off satisfied.

In the course of dragging the deer back to my truck I encountered another hunter. Normally I politely nod, ask if they have seen any game, and move along. This gentleman, however, was quite chatty. He not only engaged in conversation but also walked with me out of the public hunting area. What remains a point of pride with me is that upon seeing me drag the deer out he muttered an expletive and said, “You’d better buy a cart, I can’t believe you are going to drag a deer that far out of here.” I think that was just about the best compliment I’ve ever received in the deer woods.

Snow Days are the Best Days

Christmas Gifts for the Woodsman in Your Life

I'm an unapologetic Christmas and gift-giving enthusiast, especially for other outdoor folk. Every year several outdoor publications produce gift guides for sportsman and they vary in quality. If you are shopping for someone who spends a lot of time afield, allow me to offer a few suggestions.

Original Stormy Kromer Cap - $45



https://www.stormykromer.com/the-original-stormy-kromer-cap/

This hat is handsome, functional, and warm. It might have a little too much personality for some, but a cap in old-school red/black plaid is a real looker. If your gift recipient is a big game hunter, pick the blaze version and they are guaranteed to use it every year.


Muck Boot Company Edgewater II - $100



https://www.muckbootcompany.com/collections/tall-boots/products/mens-edgewater-ii-tall-boots-brown

These are great boots for trudging through the snow, muddy fields, or a barnyard. Extremely waterproof, warm, just watch out for barbed wire fences.


Carhartt Chore Coat - $80

https://www.carhartt.com/products/carhartt-mens-outerwear-big-tall/Duck-Chore-Coat-Blanket-Lined-C001

Universal ranch attire. If I had a dime for every deer killed by someone wearing a Carhartt Chore Coat I'd buy many more Carhartt Chore Coats.


Case Mini Finn Hunter Knife -$40



https://caseknives.com/products/leather-mini-finn-hunter-w-leather-sheath


I have carried a version of this knife for well over a decade. I own a lot of hunting knives and this is consistently the most useful pattern. It is perfect for small game and performs big game skinning tasks admirably as well.


Mora Companion - $12


https://morakniv.se/en/product/companion/

This is the best value in the knife world. Period. Full stop. The fit and finish is not great but the 12CR27 steel takes a wicked edge and hones miraculously on a ceramic rod. They can occasionally be found on Amazon for $8. When that sale happens you should buy them by the gross.


2Hawks Woodsman Tomahawk - $125



http://www.2hawks.net/tomahawks/woodsman

I am lucky enough to have a friend who gave me this tomahawk for Christmas several years ago. Since that time I have used it to butcher deer, build brush blinds, set up a tent, and cut enough saplings to build a makeshift road so that I could get my gutless, non-4x4 truck out of a boggy public hunting area. These are gorgeous, functional items.


Frost River Shell Bag - $65



https://www.frostriver.com/shell-bag/

People may call this a man purse or 'murse'---those people have never rambled the countryside with a scattergun in pursuit of game and adventure. These are honest-to-goodness made in Duluth, MN and are invaluable as a lightweight tote. I've filled these with 12 gauge shells, flyfishing gear, persimmons, handguns, and mushrooms.


Messermeister 5 Pocket Padded Knife Bag - $20



https://www.messermeister.com/collections/knife-luggage/products/5-pocket-black-padded-knife-bag-2066-5b

I love this handy knife roll for storing my butchering tools. If I go on a trip, my Messermeister is always in the truck.


Suunto M-9 Wrist Compass - $25



https://www.suunto.com/en-us/Products/Compasses/Suunto-M-9-Black-Black-NH-with-velcro-strap/

I always forget to pack a compass, but this one can be on your person or strapped to a pack with little aforethought. This compass has 'sights' for shooting landmarks and glows in the dark after brief exposure to light.


Petzl Tikka Headlamp - $30



https://www.petzl.com/US/en/sport/classic-headlamps/tikka

In the outdoors headlamps trump flashlights every time. Whether you are working on a knot or gutting a deer you need both of your hands---and no---clenching a Maglite in your mouth does not work well enough. The red light mode does not spook game and is excellent for walking into your hunting area.


Simply Rugged Real Man's Belt - $50



https://www.simplyrugged.com/ecommerce/Real-Man-s-Gun-Belt-Single-Layer-of-Leather.cfm?item_id=171&parent=670

This is quite simply the best belt I have ever owned. I wear one every day and I don't foresee the need to ever purchase a different belt from someone else. This belt works equally well for dress wear or concealed carry.


Buck, Buck, Moose by Hank Shaw - $22



Hank Shaw is arguably the best wild game chef living today. I've had the pleasure of attending two of his cooking seminars and I walked away enriched both times. This book features some of my most favorite recipes of all time: Venison with Cumberland Sauce and Venison Steak Diane. If you decide to purchase a copy of this book, please do it directly from Hank at scrbblr@hotmail.com. By doing this you'll put more cash in the author's hands.

Still Hunting: A Higher Art – Part I

 

Everyone has their own opinions when comes to the best way to hunt whitetails. Factors that dictate this include which methods prevail in the region where you are hunting, the distinct deer hunting subculture in which you were forged, and on what is effective in bringing game to the table. Folks in south Texas bang antlers, the deep south has a history of hunting with hounds, westerners glass to set up a stalk, Midwesterners post up in frozen treestands, and the bigwoods hunters of the northeast have made a name for themselves as trackers.  Each one of these traditions is rich with history and has its droves of acolytes—faithful for reasons of nostalgia as much as anything else.

As for me, I am a still hunter. Still hunting isn’t quite a lost art, especially in the traditional archery community. But, it is probably the least successful tactic of those previously referenced. Still hunting requires us to disassociate ourselves with every modern, hard-wired habit. Instead of waltzing noisily across the landscape, the still hunter moves through prime territory at the pace of an unfurling curtain of fog. Instead of relying on technological solutions to the challenges we face, the still hunter pares his kit down to only the most crucial elements. Put simply, the still hunter moves through the environment like a natural predator.

This is where the average hunter finds failure in the approach. He or she often doesn’t know how to move in the woods in a manner that doesn’t send every squirrel to a chattering perch and every jay to a cacophony of warning. Collectively we are guilty of moving too often and too quickly. Still hunting at the rate of a leisurely stroll isn’t still hunting: it is a one-man deer drive. Good luck shooting at those bounding deer as they disappear over yon hillock! In truth, much has been made about how we locomote but I’m not sure any of it is useful. Do you step heel-to-toe? Toe-to-heel? If the conditions are wrong then it doesn’t matter. A forest floor of dry leaves is going to betray your location immediately. This is why still hunting is optimal in conditions that are often suboptimal for other tactics: rainfall, wind, snow. Each of these elements can help mask your approach, reveal deer sign, or both. Because of this, I often reserve still hunting for when the conditions and location merit it.

If there is a key to still hunting it is pace. My old axiom was to take a step and wait one-to-two minutes before the next step in ideal territory. That doesn’t sound like a long duration, but bring a stopwatch with you sometime and you’ll realize that two minutes can feel like an eternity. When the quarry is close at hand this rate slows dramatically and I will often crouch or go prone for an indefinite period if there is the possibility that the game will come to me. Always better for the quarry to move than for you to move. Movement is often the source of a hunt’s ruination, but sound can be as well. To correct a misstep or a branch slapping against me noisily I force myself to pay penance.

It goes like this. When I clumsily snap a stick underfoot I consider myself to have violated the peace of the landscape. Were I to do this amidst a congregation of forest denizens they would immediately take offense as if insulted their closest kin. Although their reaction is in actuality a response of fear, I treat it as a response of indignation. Thus, my violation of the peace requires penance. My penance is to then halt, take stock of myself, assess my surroundings, and contemplate my sins. Applied, this means that I immediately slow my progress. Instead of a one-to-two minute pause I may take a four-to-five minute pause or longer depending on the severity of my transgression. During this time, I plan my route, scrutinize the environs for game, attempt to identify any surrounding trees, and focus on restorative breathing. This allows the woods to settle and for me to make more educated decisions. Often this is the time when game chooses to reveal itself. When this happens the art of still hunting seems nothing short of mystic. It is as if you conjured the creature by your solemnity, quietness, and belonging in the natural world. 

Such was the case for me last Saturday. My state offered a three-day antlerless rifle season in early October that allows a person to go afield with gun in hand in during the first blush of autumn—not during the harsh December conditions of the regular season. My initial plan was to set up at the base of an oak overlooking a meandering creek bottom where I had jumped several deer over the summer while looking for lobster mushrooms. This was not to be. Friday night was an endless stream of rain and Saturday morning was loudly pronounced by rolling thunderstorms. I stayed up until about 1:00 AM refreshing the National Weather Service’s website, but the forecast was resolute. Being sane, I opted instead to drink coffee, eat biscuits and gravy, and read one of Bill Heavey’s excellent books at the local Perkin’s restaurant.

I arrived at my hunting location around 10:30 AM when the thunderstorms had metamorphosed into intermittent showers. After cranking the magnification of my scope on the .338 to 3x I crossed a broad hayfield and entered the well-worn trail that paralleled the creek bed I had previously intended to hunt. Here I swore an oath: I will still hunt the RIGHT way and I will not rush it. Perhaps surprisingly, I maintained my fidelity. After an hour-and-half or so of furtive and calculating advancement I cut fresh tracks in the mud. They looked to be of a smallish deer, probably a young doe. This is exactly what I was pursuing. As I contemplated the tracks and considered the flora around me (black oak, elm, honey locust, red cedar, hickory, Japanese holly, buckbrush) I became aware of the slightest disturbance to my right. The low-growing buckbrush was rapidly parting as an utterly silent coyote rushed at me headlong. The oblivious prairie wolf yielded within spitting distance: certainly no more than five yards away. We then momentarily locked eyes and I read this in them: “What in tarnation!?” The coyote then wheeled and ran like the proverbial scalded dog. This was the closest I had ever been to a living coyote and I was actively hunting, clad from head-to-toe in blaze orange. Proper still hunting is sorcery.