| Thanksgiving Deer Hunt 2002 | |
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After hunting during a less-than-wonderful opening weekend of deer season near my home in Florida, it was time to get away. The destination? A friend's place in Georgia--800 acres of hunting woods, with plenty of deer! And better yet, with far fewer mosquitoes.
We--Dad, Richard, and I--departed from my place early Saturday morning and headed north. As we traveled, we left the hot, sticky heat behind as we drove through the clouds and rain of a southbound cold front. It was a distinct pleasure to have some cooler weather and a notable lack of sunburn! The drive, though long, was uneventful, unless you count a stop to re-tie the load in the back of Richard's truck... during which I managed to fold my right thumb backwards. Yowch!
Upon arriving, we made some preparations and unpacked a few things, then headed to the woods to hunt. The rain had turned the main road through the woods into a slick, slimy, nasty mess of red Georgia clay, and I took care to park Ezmerelda where I could get her out without a problem. Since I didn't have much time left I tossed on a camo raincoat and an orange vest, grabbed my Savage 110 '06 and some ammo, and headed down the main road a bit. I slipped off the road a ways and hunkered behind a small pine next to an oak tree, where I could look across a valley of sorts to the opposite slope, which was fairly open in spots.
Before long I spotted a flash of white on the hillside... it had to be a deer flicking its tail. Using my binoculars, I searched the area where I'd seen it, but I couldn't pick out any deer from the background of tans and browns. I kept watching and saw another flick, and zeroed in on it. This time all I could see was a piece of a deer's gray body, through the leafy branches of a tree that was between it and myself. Soon enough, the deer disappeared entirely and that was that.
After another several minutes passed, a dove took flight from one of the many young red-leaved sweetgum trees which crowded the small creek bottom below. The startled whistle of the dove's wings told me that something had disturbed it, so I kept watch on that area. Within minutes, a deer stepped into an opening in the gum trees. I immediately scoped it, hoping to prove to myself that it was a doe, and therefore okay to take--it was obvious that it wasn't a buck large enough to shoot on this property.
I watched the deer for five minutes or more, and I'm 95% sure it was a doe, but it wasn't a very big deer and could have been a button buck, so I let it walk. That was the end of shooting light anyway, so I slipped back to the road as quietly as possible and headed back to camp. What a day! To go from seeing nothing but black bears (illegal to take) in Florida to seeing two deer in one short sitting here in Georgia... not bad at all. Dad was the only other of our bunch to see any deer that evening--he saw a flag waving at him after he jumped one--so I counted myself fortunate.
Sunday morning Richard had to pry Ken out of his snug bed, but he finally consented to get up and hunt. They headed to their respective permanent deer stands, while I walked down the road a piece--the road was even worse now and there was no sense driving if we didn't have to--and headed down into a hardwood bottom. The temperature was somewhere around forty degrees and it was pretty windy, so I figured the deer would be in the bottoms to get out of the wind.
After hanging a few ScentLeaves with some Code Blue doe scent, I hunkered on my stool and waited. Before long, I heard a shot and knew that either Ken or Richard had connected, and it sounded like it came from Ken's direction. After forty-five more minutes of sitting, watching a squirrel, and hearing nothing other than a few turkey yelps, I got up and started walking.
I knew that the bottom where we'd built Ken's stand was connected to the one I was hunting, so I headed that way. Before long I spotted the stand and heard Ken and Richard talking. I headed up the hill and met them where they stood admiring a young seven-point buck, which Ken had shot through the neck with his Savage 99 in .308 Win. for a nice clean kill. Good thing Richard dragged Ken out of bed! We got the buck loaded on Ken's four-wheeler and made ready to head back to camp... then the bad news came--Richard's four-wheeler wouldn't start!
After a good thirty minutes or more of fumbling around and grinding on the starter, we gave it up. The most we could get out of it was a short amount of run time, thoroughly punctuated with pops and backfires. Ken and I headed back to camp on his ATV while Richard continued to cuss and fuss with his machine. After hanging the buck, Ken borrowed a larger ATV and headed back to rescue Richard by towing him back to camp. Ken was the only one of use who had seen a deer at all.
That afternoon Ken stayed in camp and I hunted in his stand. Richard had borrowed another ATV so he could get to his hunting area. The chill wind blew with a vengeance, even in the sheltered hardwood creek bottom. I knew no self-respecting deer would be out and about in that nasty weather, but I was hoping to run across a deer with no self respect! No such luck. I saw a hawk, several squirrels, and two turkey gobblers, but no deer. I wasn't alone, though... no one else had seen any, either.
