Times Well Spent: I am a Hunter

Times Well Spent: I am a Hunter

I am a Hunter

     I Am a Hunter

          In a world where trophies are celebrated by measuring tapes and adventures, where testosterone trumps skill and experience is entrusted to paid guides. I choose to measure my time afield differently. I know I am not alone, I along with a few others, measure our time afield by the process. It’s about the being there, the pursuit, the challenge of hunting and hunting well. Antlers, beards, horns, skulls and skins are a bonus to the experience of quest. 

          I like it all – I love to hunt whitetail and mule deer, moose, turkey, squirrel, rabbit, quail, pheasant, ducks, geese, pigs, exotics, you name it and I love it all. I like shooting bows and arrows, compounds and traditional. I like shooting rifles, shotguns and pistols; muzzleloaders, antiques and brand-new – right out of the box guns that the sheer sight of them makes me drool. I love soft plinking rimfires and big bores that should never be shot against ones shoulder. I love the smoke cloud of an old flintlock and the recoil from a big pistol.

          I love the feel of an old smoothbore as it rises effortlessly to my cheek and the distinct bang it makes when the trigger is eased. I like big gauges and small bores from big powerful 10 gauges to light 20’s and the small 28 gauge and 420 bore. I love the sight picture of good optics, nestled atop a fine centerfire bolt action. I love the smooth draw of a longbow loaded with cedar arrows. And the lightning fast speed with which modern compounds fling carbon arrows through my quarry.

          I love relaxing in comfortable ladder stands, and nestling on the ground against a giant oak. I love still hunting to within feet of an unsuspecting buck, and wandering through ridges, breech open across my arm in hopes an old grouse would rise against a morning sky. I love wading through black water swamps whose swollen cypress mark time in centuries instead of minutes. And I enjoy sitting in a well-constructed blind, complete with stove and heaters.

          I enjoy plodding through briar thick coverts, and across vast prairies behind well trained dogs whose ability to sniff out birds allows me to become entranced with their dance and often forget why I am there in the first place. I love the sounds of hounds hot on the trail of ‘coon, deer, or rabbit, and the sight of a flush from a hillside grouse, CRP pheasant, or the rare wild bobwhite. I love the close working of a fine setter or a long roaming pointer and their statue still points that show me where the birds are.

          I love the solitude of the wilderness, and the camaraderie of the camp. I love the trappings and the conversations. I yearn for the silence of big country and woods that stretch for miles in any direction. The quiet that can only be found in big country, the echo of one’s own mind rattles and lingers against distant memories as new ones are burned into the bank of eternal instants; those brief moments that flashes through our lives and then lingers and forever transforms us.

          I long for the honking of a flock of geese committed to a well-placed spread of decoys and the twiddle of a woodcock that flushes between my legs. I crave the whistle of wood ducks and the screaming of a murder of crows.

          Nothing fills my soul like sitting around a camp fire and comparing calibers draw weights, optics, and styles. Discussing the dress of grouse men, in their tweed jackets and duck hunters in rubber pants. I love listening to men who own Brittany’s argue with those who prefer pointers. I adore the night sound of a lonesome coyote calling to a potential mate. Along with the owl who announces his presence with grander but whose best work is done in silence.

          

          It’s all there, the things that draw us to the forest and fields, from the flooded timber, to the high country; from prairies to mountain tops, and from deserts to the arctic.

          As a southerner by birth, my style of hunting is different than many from other parts of the country. Our woods are thicker, our deer smaller and our variety sparse. Yet this doesn't slow the passion.

          I've known many who are more successful. Many who have killed far more deer and whose string of turkey beards stretch for yards not feet. I've seen men who get a limit of doves at every shoot and those of us who never seem to do so. I marvel at those who can turn a flock of mallards at will and those who seem to be able to call a coyote at every stand. I've had the pleasure of sharing a camp with men whose experiences span the globe and whose trophy room lists hundreds of animals. I've known those whose guns cost more than my truck, and whose dogs were more valuable than my wife’s engagement ring. But I have only known a few, very few who hunt well.   

          The reason a person hunts is a particularly personal and deep rooted thing. Alas, though in these times of trophy collecting, and game farming, the reason to hunt is diluted among the inches of antler. I am not a ‘collector of bone’ or ‘species’ chaser, I am a hunter. I do not specialize in a single species, or with a single weapon. I am not a ‘bow hunter’ but I love to hunt with archery equipment. I am not a ‘rifle hunter’ but few things exhilarate me more than the gentle squeeze of a trigger and the result it provides. I am not a shotgunner, but when chasing flying quarry, it’s hard to beat.

          I am a hunter. I am not a deer hunter, or bird hunter. I am not a duck hunter or predator hunter. I am not a big game hunter or small game hunter. I am a hunter, I hunt because I am. I do not choose to hunt, I have to hunt. Hunting isn't a hobby that I engage in when I have time; hunting is a way of life that I was born to do. No, indeed I must hunt. It really doesn't matter if its deer or squirrel, coyote or rabbit. I don’t care if its feral pigs in a mosquito infested swamp or a savanna full of bobwhite. If I can be there, then there I will be. Hunting is about participating in the outdoors to its fullest. To seek, chase, and pursue a game animal for the sheer challenge of it all. It’s about getting so close you can see the eyelashes on a mature buck, or calling a turkey into your lap. It’s about watching waterfowl, glide –twisting and turning through flooded timber and marvel at the beauty of it all. It’s about sunrises on frosty mornings, and the subtle breeze that caresses your face on a cold clear day. It’s watching your breath loft through barren trees, and breaking ice to set decoys. Hunting is about friendships made and cherished, it’s shared moments and solitude. It’s challenging and surprisingly easy. It’s frustrating and exhilarating, and very humbling.

          As a hunter, I cherish my privilege to hunt. I cherish all moments afield. The opportunity to be out-of-doors are all moments when for this brief time, I can be certain; that there is no other place I would rather be than right here, right now. I know for certain, that of all the things I do, that when I am hunting, there are no better times well spent.   

Getting Ready

One of the things I love most about trapping season is getting ready for trapping season. It seems somewhat silly to some, but the preparation and anticipation are almost as much fun as actually trapping. With opening of the 2012-2013 South Carolina Season one week away, there is much to do.

Ridge adding dye to our trap cooker

Traps need attention from last season. Several dozen need mid chain swivels, others need new 'dogs'. Still others need their pans adjusted to the proper tension. Like a lot of trappers, I have traps dedicated to specific species. My coyote traps have pan tensions set a lot stiffer than my raccoon traps. And my bobcat traps have a different pan tension from either of these, then there are the fox traps, and muskrat traps. 

Adding swivels to my traps

Body grip traps need triggers manipulated, and dogs filed. Anchors need to be remade. Stakes need welding. The biggest task is dying the traps. (unlike many trappers, I don't wax my traps - I have my reasons) Lastly, is making bait - which I didn't mean to put off until the last minute, but alas, I did. 

Ahhh - the smell of cooking traps

The day is filled with anticipation. My partner, who is also my 11 year old son Ridge, and I headed out to the shop early, the fire was lit beneath the washtub that would serve as our cooker for dying our traps. (NOTE TO SELF: It takes at least an hour to bring 17 gallons of water to a boil on a high burner propane cooker - allow for this next year) While the water was heating up, we cut chain, added swivels, tightened pans, adjusted triggers, and finally added the dye (Pete's Sleepy Creek Trap Dye) It takes about a bottle and a half to do my traps in seventeen gallons of water. I like to wire a half dozen traps together so I can remove them when done. Traps were added to the water, and typically I let them cook for a minimum of one hour but prefer a bit longer. My tub would hold about eighteen traps, so I had several rounds of cooking. 

While the traps were cooking, our bait making process began. I can without a doubt this is my Ridge's least favorite part. Filling the shop with the aroma of Violator 7, or GH II is something neither if us enjoy but its necessary. Bottles were consolidated, some thrown out - (I know our garbage man loves this.) and others were made. All in all it took us about nine hours to complete our task. 

Once the traps are cooked, I lay them into their air-tight containers where they remain until they go into the ground. Bare hands will never touch again. A pair of gloves is in each tub and they will only be handled with the gloves designated for that tub.  - More about this if a future story.

As I said earlier  - trapping season open Dec. 1, seven days and counting. Sites have been scouted, sets marked and now all traps and bait are ready. The countdown to opening day begins. 

Of all the things I do in the out-of-doors, nothing beats the challenge and excitement of trapping. I love all 'opening days'. Opening day of hunting season, and the different ones that follow - Deer season, gun season, duck season etc. But nothing - nothing gets me as excited as opening day of trapping season. 

Wait to see what comes this season as we set steel to catch some critters. 

Lonestar Outdoors Radio

This past week, I was interviewed by Cable Smith, host of Cabela's Lonestar Outdoors Radio show. http://texasoutdoorsmedia.com/
The Interview involved a recent story I wrote for Game and Fish magazines. Its title, Topographically Speaking - using topographic maps to identify the travel patterns of big bucks. The show aired Saturday November 10, 2012 at stations all across Texas. 

You can listen to the pod cast by clicking the link below:

http://texasoutdoorsmedia.com/this-weeks-show-47/

Follow The Line to Success

When it comes to locating sign for big bucks nothing stands out like big rubs. This sign is easily identified, easily found and for some of the most successful hunters the number one sign they look for.

Big Rubs Mean Big Deer

     “Rubs” also known as tree rubs, are used for many purposes. Some are used to remove the velvet from the antlers at the end of the growing season. Although most bucks use bushes and brush for this since the antlers are still a bit tender. Other rubs are used as scent markings or territory markings, and some are community rubs. Knowing which are which, and how to identify these can lead to continued success for trophy hunters in the Carolina’s and Georgia.

            As the rut begins to take shape, dutiful hunters will notice more and more rubs present near the core areas of trophy bucks. As these become more prominent, and more frequent it identifies the presence of a buck in a certain area. Trophy bucks will, as I like to call it, ‘announce’ their presence, and they do this with rubs on big trees, and trees that are easily noticed by rival bucks. They will also increase the frequency of their rubs and the location is critical.

One of 19 rubs in a 50 yard area

            In one recent location, I noticed a line of rubs on a property I was hunting. As I followed the line, there were twenty three rubs within a one hundred yard stretch. Further investigation showed no less than forty eight rubs within this five acre area. Clearly this was this particular bucks core area and he was letting all rival bucks know this via this visual and scent markings left by these series of rubs.  

            Hunters should take note – these rub lines are one of the most important pieces of information left by bucks. When a hunter notices these rub lines, again these are a series of rubs on trees in a fairly straight line that can cover anywhere from a few dozen yards to several hundred yards. The greater the frequency the more he is visiting his area. And the closer to these rubs you should set your stand. One thing is for sure, unlike scrapes that are very unpredictable, rubs will let the hunter know for certain that a buck is there and visiting regularly.

            While its true that you cannot definitely the size of the buck from the size of the rub, there are key indicators that will point the hunter in certain directions. While a trophy buck will rub a small tree, a small buck will not rub a big tree. Conversely, a four point cannot leave the sign that a big eight point buck leaves. Rubs on iron wood trees that are nine inches in diameter will definitely indicate a trophy buck. While a one inch sapling can be either. If I find a series of rubs on trees in excess of four inches in diameter, I hang a stand close by knowing that he has announced his presence and I need to hunt this area.

Follow the Line to Big Bucks

            Experience scouting the same areas will also show hunters that some bucks seem to prefer certain types of trees to rub. In the midlands of South Carolina, bigger bucks seem to prefer larger cedars and hard wood trees, while subordinate bucks will tend to rub pine trees.

            These rub lines can also tell you which direction the bucks are traveling along their route. Big rubs tend to be on only one side of the tree, this will indicate the direction of travel. When I notice this, I take note of the wind, and hang a stand that will put the wind in my favor along his direction of travel. For example, If I notice that the direction of travel is north to south, I will hang a stand along his travel route on the south side of his travel route and only hunt with a northerly wind. This will significantly place the odds in my favor. If the conditions are favorable, and I can hunt there for three consecutive days, more times than not I will see this buck.

            When scouting for bucks nothing excites me more than finding big rubs that follow a certain path. Moreover, if I notice a tree that has scars on it, and sign that it has been rubbed for consecutive years, I know I am dealing with an older buck that will take extra care. However, he has shown me his core area, all needed now is to set up and kill him.

            Of all the sign left by trophy bucks nothing will put more trophy bucks in your sights like rub lines. Food plots are nice, scraps are unpredictable, and travel corridors are sketchy. But add some of these with big rubs along a series of trees over a stretch of ground and you have the final piece of the puzzle that will put big antlers in your hands.