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