#8-point buck

[johnschneiderblog]

Another hunting story

I was daydreaming Saturday morning when this fine specimen of a whitetail buck stepped into a small clearing I hunt over on the east side of our property.

It was shortly after daybreak - a time when I should have been on high alert. I wasn't; my mind was in the clouds, backlit by the rising sun. By the time I returned to the here-and-now the buck had passed through the clearing, out of bow range, and was back in thick cover.

For the next half-hour I cursed my wandering mind: “Why bother to be out here before dawn when you’re not going to pay attention during the most crucial hour of the hunt …?”, etc., etc., etc. …

I'm not sure what brought the buck back to his ultimate doom. It might have been my antler-rattling or mimicking grunts, designed to make him think rivals were afoot. It might have his natural route.

But my money is on my “Bleat in Heat II” call, meant to imitate a doe in estrus. The buck allowed his passion to overrule his judgement. A common tale, indeed.

[johnschneiderblog]

Thank you, Brother

On Nov.18, the day my brother, Mark, died, Sharon was in Washington, D.C. with friends (her version of deer camp). I had returned from my camp and was home alone.

I already had spoken with my siblings, my kids and everybody else I could think of who might help fill the void in which I found myself.

I needed something to do. Figuring I could brood just as easily in one of the deer stands on my 12 acres here in lower Michigan, I suited up, strapped on my muzzleloader and headed out.

On one hand, it seemed absurd that I could muster any interest in anything other than my grief. And, to be honest, I wondered how I might be judged. On the other hand, I knew what Mark would say: “You can’t shoot a deer from your couch; get your butt out there.”

Another thing: We had spent so much time deer hunting together that I knew I would feel closer to him in the woods.

Shortly after 5 p.m. as daylight was starting to fade, a fine 8-pointer sauntered within range. Mark’s voice in the wind - or maybe it was in my head - said  “Here you go; now don’t screw it up.”

I didn’t. It’s one hunt I’ll surely remember.

[johnschneiderblog]

Mr. 5-by-3

I killed this deer Friday at daybreak with a crossbow. It's an 8-point buck, but its antlers don't obey the typical 4-by-4 configuration; this rack has five points on the right side and three on the left.

My neighbor/fellow hunter/friend/partner in a mutual-aid pact helped me field dress, drag and hang this buck in my pole barn.

Here's the interesting thing: A few hours later he emailed me some photos from his motion-activated trail camera along with a note suggesting that the handsome brute (bottom photo) he caught on camera was the very one we had just hung from the rafters of my barn.

After examining the photographic evidence, I think I can say without a doubt that it is indeed the same deer. That 5-by-3 rack ... that weired little sticker-point protruding like a thorn from the right main beam ... I'd know him anywhere.