I went out and got the paper this morning and the air was smelling and feeling a bit like Fall.  This is the time of year that makes me start to think about the hunting seasons that are rapidly approaching.  After all, this Saturday starts the Utah bow hunting season for deer and elk (for those who have drawn those tags).

On the hunting forums that I visit the talk is almost all centered around the bow hunt and that always gets me excited, even though I’m not a bow hunter.  What it does mean is that the muzz hunt is coming up fast.

Only 6 more Wednesdays until the big day!  Which also means that between now and that date we will be getting together for our annual BS meeting to discuss who is going, who is staying in who’s camper, what we are going to be eating etc. etc. etc. etc. and drinking a few adult beverages while we are together.  That annual tradition is something I really look forward to, probably as much as the hunt itself.  Why?  Because we are all excited with one thing in mind…getting up into the mountains and drinking more adult beverages.

I have always enjoyed the hunting camp and can remember like it was yesterday the first hunt I was allowed to go on.  Of course mother kept me close by her side, but we still managed to get into the woods and I watched as she and dad both shot at a big buck and then got to watch the entire process of gutting it and dragging it out.  I got to balance dads rifle while he did the dirty work and then I got to carry the liver and heart out while he dragged the buck down the mountain and back to camp.  Mom had to carry both rifles.  I was on top of the world at that time!

So, that memory has kept me going ever since and I hope those things are being instilled in my grandkids as well, but I’m not seeing their parents pushing to get the kids excited like it was done when I was their age.  Too many other activities going on in their young lives I suppose.  When I was their age we didn’t have all of the things that they have today and for sure we couldn’t just pack up, jump in the car and head off to a swimming lesson or piano or whatever like they do today.  If we were going swimming it had to be planned several days in advance.  Of course we could always jump on the bikes and head down to the local pond and dive in.  We didn’t do that many times as it was clear down below Perry and so we had to settle for the creek, which wasn’t bad, just not swimming.

The hunting was done more out of necessity than pleasure back then, but still there was always a lot of fun in camp.  We hunted as a family and you could shoot does or bucks in the day, you could also fill others tags but you had to make sure you didn’t shoot more deer than there were tags in the camp or else trouble was on the horizon.  I watched a guy from another camp come into ours and ask if someone wanted to tag an “extra” deer he had taken, luckily for him there was a guy in camp that was willing to do it.

I suppose for me today, the camping is more of the event than the hunting.  Heckling and cutting up and all meant in good fun.  The food is great and everyone pitches in to get the camp set up and taken down when the time comes.  The hunting is fun too, but it’s more of a ride in the woods with an occasional buck being a bonus when it shows itself.  The mad scramble for caps and to get that first shot off.  I have to grin when I think about it.

Let the thoughts of the hunt begin!

Bears Butt

August 14, 2013

Taking a short break from pulling weeds and I thought of a great bow hunting story from my past.

Many years ago, Weasel liked to hunt deer with a bow and he was pretty good with shooting a bow.  I had no doubt about him being able to put one in the freezer.  Well we have a mutual friend who at the time also liked to hunt with a bow.  Well I was invited to go with them as a camp cook and orderly as I didn’t hunt with a bow, but liked to go camping and watch the hunters go out and come back and listen to their stories about how the big one got away.

It was opening  weekend of the Utah bow season one year and my friend offered me a seat in his ground blind.  His offer was more to allow me to be there to see him shoot his first buck using a bow and I knew that going into it.  My camera was ready for that first shot and I was going to make sure he and his buck were well preserved on film.

In the blind way before daylight he made sure I was comfortably placed well back up against the large pine tree trunk and out of his way to maneuver for his shot.  We were both doused with some God Awful scent cover that I think he made and we had decided on a quiet signal if I saw a deer coming from behind, I was to slowly reach out and touch him on the shoulder indicating which side the deer was coming.  This would be the alert that he could expect a deer coming up from behind.  In the meantime he was watching a very good trail leading out of the trees and up onto the bench high above us.

There were literally buck deer everywhere on that mountain when it got light enough to see.  I was shocked and most were feeding in our direction.  My buddy had been here many years in a row and knew the pattern the deer usually took, today was no exception.

Suddenly I saw him tense up and begin to draw, time sort of stood still for me and I’m sure it did for him as well, then I caught a gimps of a deer as it passed within a few yards of our position.  Through the shooting lane in the pine bows I could see it was a nice little 2 point buck and my friend was about to let the air out of it.  FLING!  Went the arrow and right over its back it flew!

The buck did a low duck and then bounded off to never never land!

Turning in my direction my buddy “Dry Dog” whispered “Damn it!” and then knocked another arrow.  It wasn’t but a few minutes when I saw a deer approaching from behind and I touched Dogs left shoulder.  He turned slightly to view through another lane just as the buck passed through and out in front of us, almost to the same place the other buck was been when the arrow missed.  Dog drew back and held waiting for the buck to take that one last step and when it did, TWANG…off went the arrow straight and true.  Well it went as straight and true as they can and once again it flew over the bucks back!  Off and into the trees went buck number 2.

Again the stare from Dry Dog as he knew he had that one in the bag and with miss number 2 he was not a very happy guy and made it clear to me not to make any remarks, even though not a word was said.

About an hour later, the deer feeding on the hillside were slowly filtering into places to lay down for the heat of the day.  But here came a really nice buck, I’m going to say it was a 4X4 because I’m pretty sure it was, but time gets away from a guy and it was a long time ago when this happened.  That big old buck came right at our position and stood out there about 30 yards staring into the base of that tree.  He knew something wasn’t quite right and so there he stood.  Dry Dog was at about a half crouch and half drawn and frozen in place for the stare down.  Pretty soon old Dry Dog couldn’t hold either his half crouched position nor his half drawn bow and he slowly relaxed both.  The buck still stood there intently looking for what it knew was not right under that tree.

As curiosity killed the cat, that buck started foot stomping and coming our way.  I think they do that to try and scare out whatever it is under a bush or rock that has them nervous, but anyway here it came closer and closer, ever watching for something under that tree.  Both of us were frozen.  Soon, that bucks nose was right outside the shooting lane looking in on us, not 10 feet away.  We were without any chance for a shot.

Soon the buck decided there wasn’t anything to worry about, and in reality there wasn’t because when the buck turned to walk down and to our left, Dry Dog was up, full drawn and aiming at that bucks vitals…FLING went the arrow straight toward its mark…thwack!  Right into a bushy little tree next to the buck and off ran buck number 3 for the day.  But then something really weird happened!  The buck started coming back with that curious look again and coming right toward us.  Dry Dog had to move quietly and quickly to knock another arrow and this he did with lightning speed.  The buck came closer and then turned sideways about 30 yards straight out from the shooting lane and Dog was on him big time…TWACK when the arrow out through the window, but this time it touched a branch of the pine we were hiding under and the arrow went almost straight up as it flew.  Needless to say, that buck is still running to this day!

Now old Dry Puppy is as mad as a wet hen and went into a semi quiet temper tantrum.  In his kneeling position he couldn’t kick up much dust, but he sure made for an interesting sight as he moved from left to right and up and down, calling out everything bad anyone could ever think of including cussing his equipment for failing to put any of the 3 bucks on the ground.  Good Grief Dry Dog, give me a break!  He even went so far as to offer me his last arrow to try and do better.  I whispered that he was only offering so he could citizens arrest me for not having a license to bow hunt.  That calmed him down enough to realize there was another buck coming down the hill in our direction.

Again, just like two of the three shots before, this buck came feeding down slowly and passed in front of the shooting lane not 20 yards out.  He had no clue we were anywhere within a million miles and it fed slowly past.  Dry Dog has to make this shot count as it’s his last arrow.  4 in the quiver and one in the bow, that is what we started with and now all he has is the one in the bow!  Get it Dog!  Get it!  That is what I was thinking and when he let that arrow go, I don’t know what happened, but that buck was a dead buck standing out there, it just didn’t know it.

I have never seen such a pretty picture of an arrow as it arched its way toward the tree line never to be seen again.  Almost in slow motion it traveled with the morning sun shining on the ever rotating red feather on the back of the arrow shaft, turn, turn, turn, just as pretty as ever.  Of course the buck never saw it, he was looking at us and just standing there wondering what all the noise was.

Dry Dog had lost it completely!  And had stood up under those branches hard enough to almost cold cock himself and then stumbled out from under the blind kicking and cussing.  I crawled out as well and the deer didn’t move until I came out, at which time it boogied.

We went in search of the arrows that lay here and there among the trees and bushes and I think we found two of the five, but they had issues that needed to be fixed before they could be used again.  And so, back to camp we ambled.  Dry Dog cussing under his breath and sometimes not so under his breath.

So much for a good morning bow hunting!  Thanks Dry Dog for the story.  I think it was a wise choice on your part to switch over to muzzleloading for deer after that day.  AND there is a moral to this story:  Don’t let Bears Butt go out hunting with you unless you intend to read about it some day on Bears Butt Dot Com!

Bears Butt

August 5, 2013