How I learned to hunt and other outdoor tales

Done in one shot.

2011-05-05T21:10:00.003-04:00

Everyone's first is special. I don't imagine that my first was any different than anyone else's. I was nervous of course. Stumbling around in the dark, so to speak. I didn't really know what I was doing. The courtship was rushed and I can say that I wasn't overly selective on who would be my first . I was functioning on the "first willing" rule. My excitement mounted and like all guys I was afraid of doing something dumb that would bring it all to an end prematurely. I admit I rushed it all a bit. I could have dragged out the whole process but instead I raced to the climax. Typical man I'm told. But I didn't want that stupid turkey to escape this time.

After a not so great opening day I have to admit I was feeling a little bummed. I complained on facebook about my lack of good turkey space and a friend said I should come and try the back of her farm. I stopped by her house to discuss it with her. She showed me roughly where her lot lines were. She then pointed of in the direction she heard turkeys gobbling the day before. This and a quick look at a satellite photo was what constituted a scouting trip as I planned on hunting it the next morning.

I wasn't sure what I was going to find when I arrived at the tree line the next morning so I planned to arrive early. My goal was to be there a full hour before it was time to start shooting. I followed the trail she mentioned existed to the back corner of her hay field. The trail turned east and followed the edge of the tree line. I knew I only had a fairly narrow distance before I hit the lot line on the other side of the property. I started to look for a suitable tree and set up spot immediately. There were lots of large trees but the density of scrub at the field edges was quite thick. I kept looking.

After a 100 yards or so the trail suddenly turned into the forest on a tractor path. There, on the western corner of the path entrance was a big tree. There was good cover for anything approaching from the west but directly in front of me and off to the east it was wide open. I decided this would have to do and paced twenty yards off and planted to foam hen and a jake decoy. It was a bit of depression as the ground in all directions rose to a higher level . I settled into my tree with a gentle west wind blowing in my face and waited.

Not knowing what to expect I was delighted to hear the sound of gobbling to the west of me and behind me. I listened for a while and then, as dawn approached, I made some soft tree calls. You could tell they were tree calls because I was sitting against a tree when I made them. They probably weren't the same as a hen's tree calls but I kept it soft and just tried to do some little clucks. I didn't call much or often. I used my new glass on slate call as well as my other pot call that has slate, copper and some other surface on it. My theory was that f I kept changing they would think there were lots of hot chicks waiting anxiously for them. My own version of those telephone chat commercials.

It was a little after 6:30 before there was any sign of action. The gobblers seemed to go quiet and suddenly I saw movement coming over the rise. Within moments I had two hens strolling towards my decoys. I was ready to go . Convinced I was moments away from seeing the gobblers arriving all hot to trot and in tow to the hens. They slipped past me into the bush at about 10 yards. As the wandered slowly out of sight behind me I realized they weren't going to provide me with what I needed. There were no toms to be found. I quietly put the safety back on and settled down to wait. Every 15 minutes or so I did a calling sequence with no response.

I had settled into a nice easy calling routine when it arrived. The wind. Actually maybe wind is an understatement. Not quite a tornado it probably came close. Apparently it was at least 83 kilometers an hour (50 Miles and hour) but I think it was more. I knew it was nasty when the tree directly across the path from me fell away from me. Scared the crap out of me. If the wind had been blowing the opposite direction I would have been lucky to avoid getting smashed by it. I looked out at my decoys to see them almost touching the grass sideways as the wind laid them over on their pegs. I used the string and nail trick out the back of them to keep them from spinning. I could see them straining against their tethers when suddenly one of the hens and the jake decoy folded up. I snuck out and picked them up and tucked them into my vest.

I put the three surface call way and worked the glass on slate call as loud as I could yelp. My poor little hen decoy was surviving as it stood facing me broadside to the wind. I kept waiting for it to fold up as well but it clung stubbornly to life. It did, however, slip somewhat on the peg and soon it looked more like an egret standing there. I considered sneaking out to fix it but I looked upwind to see I had company.

The first bird walked into site and stopped. I couldn't see him well and I was worried he had hung up. I slowly started to reach for my call when I saw what every hunter likes to see. Full Strut. A few seconds and he started forward again to show that he was one of six toms all strutting and vying for the affections of my rather sad excuse for a hen turkey. They didn't pause and came marching forward down the edge of the trees. I quietly raised my shotgun and decided that I wasn't going to have a repeat of last year. No bionic superman turkeys allowed. I decided the first turkey in my shooting lane was going to be the trophy of the day. The red dot of my Vortex Strikefire settled on the turkey's head and I started to track him from behind some wild grape vines. I gave him about two steps into the clearing and hammered him with a 3 inch load of #6 Remington Hevi shot. He was ten yards away.

He fell like a ton of bricks and immediately two other toms jumped him. Feathers were flying as the poor guy got the crap kicked out of him. Fortunately it wasn't a repeat of last year. I finally managed to retrieve my first turkey. He weighed in at 19.25 pounds and had a nine and three quarter inch beard and three quarter inch spurs. So now the first one is done and I still have another tag to fill. I'm already thinking there should be a grand slam in the future.

No birds but a happy child

2011-04-30T19:10:00.003-04:00

Opening morning of turkey season came early. I trundled down the hall to get my 10 year old side kick out of bed. Usually this is an easy task but I knew we were going to have a slow start when she mumbled about having slept through two alarms already. We hustled around getting ready and soon it was departure time. This was Ainsley's first trip out for anything other than our rabbit trip. She didn't have any camouflage of her own so we had to make do with some of mine.

I think the whole baggy look could qualify this as hip hop huntware.

I had decided to hunt the best spot I had last year. I hadn't actually scouted it yet but figured we stood a good chance as well as we had a good place to set up a ground blind. As we walked in I heard a tom gobble in the dark. It was far to the east from where we were but sounded like the same piece of bush. Last year they were roosting daily right behind where I was setting my ground blind up.

We settled in and placed the decoys out in front of the blind about 20 yards. Ainsley was excited but before long the early start caught up with her. It wasn't long before her little head was resting on my knee and she was asleep again.

  Sadly the distant gobble we heard on the way into the field was the only bird we heard or saw. We lingered until about 11 am and then I took her home fed her lunch and started to hatch an afternoon plan. We had until 7 pm which is the end of hunting time in Ontario

    I have a few pieces of crown land in my area that I considered. Some of the bigger pieces I knew would be full of people today but there was one small piece called the Kirkwall Tract that might just do the trick. Back into the truck we climbed and we headed off to plan B.

Plan B didn't happen.

As we were passing another, much larger piece of crown land, a turkey flew across the road in front of us. It was in the south end of a 350 acre piece. About a mile to a mile and a half away from the parking lot.

    Not to be deterred by the distance or the rain Ainsley and I headed back into the bush. It was going to be lighter hunt this time with no ground blind to hide in. We rolled up Ainsley's pant legs as best we could and started.

It was a long an soggy walk. I have to give her credit she was quite the trooper. Some of the water we had to skirt was a little deep and pretty tangled. All the while it rained.

We made our way to the back corner opposite of where we saw the bird. It was a challenging trp. Between swampy bits and lots of hawthorn bushes and tangle it was a slow and prickly trip. We finally found a good tree on the edge of a promising field where we set up and waited. It wasn't long before we heard the gobbler arrive a little north of us in the bush. I teased and cajoled him . He got closer and closer until it sounded like he was on top of us. We couldn't see him but Ainsley was thrilled. Sadly he eventually wandered back to the north leaving us behind. With three hunting hours left we decided we were too wet and too cold to linger any longer. A long trudge out left me with a happy little girl keen to go again…in her own camo.

The End of Innocence

2011-04-24T10:31:00.003-04:00

It was inevitable I suppose. That's what comes with education I'm told. It makes me sad though. To see her shed her innocence so soon. It went something like this…

Me with my diaphragm turkey call "Putt Putt Cluck cluck cluck"

My wife "honey would you stop that."

Me looking a little wounded "but sweet heart I'm wooing you like last year (putt putt cluck)"

My wife, "It's not working because you're trying to call a boy and I'm not a boy"

It was like watching a child shed their belief in the Easter Bunny. On the upside I'm under strict orders to redeem my deer season by getting her a yummy turkey. Fortunately that's a set of instructions I can live with.

This is Easter Sunday and I want to wish you all a Happy Easter. For those of us in Ontario it is also the day before spring Turkey season opens. It's also voting season. Naturally I voted in the advanced poles this weekend. Can't have a piddly little thing like the future of the country interfere with a good day of turkey hunting. So while the rest are making X's on May 2 I'll be free to gobble and cluck my way across the Ontario countryside.

May 8 is my anniversary. It's the first one. Apparently it's paper. I'm not sure what I was expecting along this line but my loving wife surprised me with an early anniversary present. I mentioned that it wasn't paper and she grinned and pointed out the paper price tag attached to it. So now I have a cool turkey vest.

It's a pretty cool vest. It has a nice big puffy seat and good back pad. Takes a water bladder and room for my mouth calls as well as box, pot and locator calls. It has three pockets that have magnetic closures for strikers. More importantly it has the single most important thing you need to ensure you'll always get your turkey. It has this

How can you go wrong with a great turkey picture on your vest?

The shotgun is almost ready. It just needs patterning which is today's project. The choke of choice for this year comes from Indian Creek.

The rest of the shotgun setup was a little stressful. I needed a picatinny rail installed and had to have a gunsmith drill and tap some holes. The job was good but the three days that turned into more than two weeks certainly stressed me out. I got the shotgun back Tuesday of this past week.

The coolest part is why I needed the rail. The aiming system of choice is the Vortex Strikefire.

This thing is great. No parallax past 50 yards and only a tiny bit under 50. The red dot is adjustable in brightness and the glass is good. It makes my shotgun look like a real threat to turkey's. I'm looking forward to trying it on waterfowl as well.

After I took this picture I moved the site farther forward on the rail. I think I like how it performs better but shooting it will be the real trial.

So now we count down the hours. I have a spot all picked out for the morning. The vest is packed and my sidekick for the day, ten year old Ainsley, has been briefed and we're good to go. The Easter Bunny arrived today and in her basket was a webkinz turkey. Hopefully it isn't the only one she gets to see this week.

Look out turkey's. The kid's got your number.

2011-03-26T15:05:00.001-04:00

So the grind of school is drawing to a close and the sun is coming out. I was all excited last week as I saw the snow vanish. My thoughts turned to the looming turkey season. That euphoric feeling ended when I woke up the other morning and saw a frozen world buried in snow. I'm trying, however, to stay focused on the positives. Like 5 days until the end of class, Thirty days until the opening of turkey season and 32 days until the end of exams. As you may notice there is a bit of an overlap. This could pose a problem. For the exam.

My spring journey to the Toronto Sportsman Show has come and gone. I had only one day to go this year which was fine. They didn't have the Gold Whistle Retriever trials this year so that reduced what to do a lot in my books. I also didn't get to check out the Thompson Center Arms Venture. I've heard good things about it as a very accurate entry level rifle and I really was hopeful. Sadly Thompson Center decided not so send a display and none of the dealers had one. I managed to check out Tikka and Savage entry level rifles. I have to admit that when I got to Bass Pro yesterday to finally see the Venture it seemed much better than the other two. Now I just have to figure out how to get one without spending any money. I'm considering trading a couple of old bows and some odds and sods for one if I can get the dealer to say yes. Wish me luck.

The guys I met at the Trophy Line booth weren't there with a trophyline booth this year. That made me sad because I know they've found some additional things such as a climbing system to go with the tree saddle I really wanted to see. Kevin Bartley from Gobblestalker Calls was there again this year. After a bit of a discussion I handed him $45 for a hand turned custom crystal on slate call.

It's a great call. At first I thought it was a tad pricey. Then I went to bass pro and discovered I don't know what I'm talking about. I saw calls between 70 and 90 dollars and I don't think they're nearly as good as this one. So score one for me. Now I plan on entering his video contest to win some more calls. It will be my first attempt to video a hunt of any kind. I'm thinking this might finally exceed my blackberry's photographic ability.

After last year's poor turkey success I made some decisions for this year I didn't think I would make. I've hung the bow up for now. I might still use it a bit but I have this nice new shotgun that hasn't seen any work. So I've decided that the plan for this year is no bow until I can prove I can actually get one with a shotgun first. If I can shoot one in the head, knock him down dead and watch him come back to life, with a shotgun then I had best perfect that problem before I try the stick and string approach. So I attended a seminar given by Adrian Hare while I was at the show as well as shopped for shotgun.

So as sad as I was to not find anything as exciting as the tree saddle this year it wasn't without it's cool moments. I found the trophy line guys at the Vortex booth working the room. My neighbour, Rick Bullman who was invaluable in giving me advice this past season introduced me his friend and pro staff member Rob Pade . This is where the day gets exciting. Rob invites me turkey hunting. Rob is a die hard turkey man and full of information. So now I'm stoked. He immediately starts giving me advice. I have to admit when these guys give me advice on what to buy and what not to buy it has always been good. My favourite piece of the day was when he told me that if I showed up with one of those little turkey stools he was just going to through it away. His solution was a bit of burlap and a cheap trailer inner tube. Sadly the Vortex Strikefire he showed me for my shotgun wasn't nearly so cost effective. And I fell in love.

So I'm almost ready to start patterning the my Benelli spaghetti gun. The Indian Creek choke has been purchased and installed. The ammunition is selected if I can ever find it. All I need to do now is buy an inner tube, select an aiming system, organize a useful videography solution. I'm completely stoked. My 10 year old is intrigued too. I told her she could come and be my official caller so she's started her practicing.

I guess we're going to have to get her some camo. Hope I get a turkey before she gets old enough to beat me to it.

Staring at the snow wishing I wasn't studying

2011-03-06T11:37:00.000-05:00

OK so clearly the fact that I'm blogging is a good sign I'm not studying. I have 2 days before my next exam so I'm sneaking in a minute or two to bring you up to speed. There's some news but not a lot considering it's the off season.

I keep tabs on the forums on the Magazine Ontario Out Of Doors website. A week or so ago someone set up a blackberry group from there. I decided to join and it's been an interesting experience. a great way for new hunters to immediately ask a question as there is usually someone with an answer within minutes. We were trying to organize a coyote hunt for yesterday. It was going to be great. A couple of experienced guys sharing their experience with us newbies. Sadly the weather didn't co-operate. It rained. And it rained. And it rained.

I'm not sure if I told you what's happening this summer but it's pretty exciting. We were in basspro a few weeks ago and it went like this...

Me : How about this pair

Alissa: You are NOT dressing our baby in camo

Yes it's true. We are expecting. Another little hunter on the way. Not sure if it's a boy or girl yet but we have an ultrasound scheduled for this afternoon to find out. Stay tuned.

On other related wife news my super wife did a great thing for me the other day. She was having a meeting with a family for work and somehow the topic of hunting came up. Next thing I know I'm talking to a guy about joining their hunt camp. Moose, Bear, Deer etc. It's all very exciting. I think I'll have to hang up the bow for the big game with them due to the style of hunting they do. That's ok. Gives me a reason to buy a rifle now. I'm considering a .270 so I can use it all over the province including on coyote down here. Lots of Moose guys use rifles above .300 which I can only use in the north. My uncle in BC always used a .270 on moose so I know it can be done so I'm not sure using something bigger is necessary. Oh the decisions.

He was off to talk to the rest of the camp this weekend but figures it won't be a big deal to them. They do a trip in May for the opener of walleye. He suggested I join them to see how we all get along. Wise idea I think. It'll be some seriously remote bush we'll be in and bullets flying. Always wise to know and trust the guys you're going to be in that environment with.

So now I'm waiting for the Sportsman Show. Turkey season is coming so I'l have to start getting organised for that. Looks like opening day is 2 days before my last final exam this season. Good thing it wasn't on the same day. Would have been sad to miss that exam and fail the course.

How it all ended

2011-02-02T12:22:00.000-05:00

I know, I know. Where have I been and how did it all end up?

For those who have been following along since the beginning last year you'll recall I decided I needed and MBA and went back to school. That's been very busy of late and therefore my blogging has suffered greatly. Today, however, is a snow day. All the family is home due to a big storm shutting most of southern Ontario down. I'm busy online doing research but figured I better get this post up before someone sends a search party to the bush thinking maybe I had disappeared and was dangling from a tree somewhere. Not a bad way to go if you think about it. Doing the thing you love.

So it was tag soup for me this year. Exceptionally frustrating considering the two that should be in the freezer. I'm optimistic for the spring turkey hunt. I've decided it'll be shotgun until I get one and then maybe the bow for the second bird. Hopefully my schedule will be free for it. Exams are in April so as long as the school is smart enough to schedule them before turkey season opens. Hmm...wonder if they'd like a copy of the regs as they start planning their schedule?

Other than that there isn't much going on. We're living in a B&B as our house is repaired. One of those nasty cold nights caused our pipes to burst and now the insurance is busy repairing the house. The kids are out back turning snowbanks into igloos and all is right with the world.

Chocolate Is A Girl's Best Friend.

2010-11-25T00:58:00.002-05:00

"Wow some day I want to do that!"

"Really dear? Are you going to hunt it too?"

"No but you can in the fall. But I get to come and handle the dog myself."

When you're married to a professional dog trainer, watching a Retriever Trial and like to hunt, that discussion has the potential to be virtually orgasmic.

Let me back up and set the scene. It's the spring of 2010 and I've just finished my turkey hunting course at the Toronto Sportsman's Show. Alissa trains service dogs for a living and they have a booth set up over where all the dogs are hanging out. What we're doing when she utters these word is watching the Golden Whistle Retriever Trials. It was part of several days of various dog competitions and I can tell you I was glad she said it during the trial and not while we were watching those nutty agility people or the long jump into the pool. Not that I mind the nutty agility dog stuff I just don't want a dog who would rather pole bend around my decoys instead of a straight line retrieve.

Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago and I'm sitting looking at a puppy add. Two hours of puppy testing on 9 puppies and a selection was made, JJ came home..

Does he look motivated or what? I can see the feathers sticking out of his mouth already.

You'll notice how he's preparing himself for the rigors of the duck marsh in the frigid conditions of late December. I'm sure I'll be able to find some cammo blankies for him somewhere...

May we never forget what they did for us!

2010-11-11T11:34:00.001-05:00

In Flanders Fields Poem

By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch, be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

I’m doing this for WHAT reason??

2010-11-10T17:36:00.001-05:00

If I had to choose one single word to describe this year's deer season so far it would be maddening. Truthfully I could come up with some more colourfull words to describe it but I'm afraid of melting the screen. I had high hopes for it. Got some new Ninja deer hunting stuff over the spring and summer, read some books, pestered some experienced hunters with countless questions and practiced, practiced, practiced.

Opening day started with the usual heady anticipation we all feel. I hung suspended from my tree saddle waiting patiently for my spot to produce results. It was a nice little funnel that divided a hay field from a corn field. I could see deer on the far side of the hay field all morning but it wasn't until the evening that I finally saw something come of my efforts. In the last moments of the shootable light I had deer everywhere around me. Sadly I couldn't reach my range finder and made my best estimate based on an earlier reading I had taken of some weeds. This was the beginning of what has truly been an educational year. The first lesson was that things look different without light. I didn't just miss. I MISSED!!!! I suppose that I could have claimed some trophy earth worms but they horrible eating and even harder to mount on the wall.

That spot, predictably, didn't produce again but I could still see the deer moving in and out of the hay field farther along. After a particularly quiet morning hunt I slipped over to where I saw them entering and exiting the forest and chose a likely tree. A quick pruning with a hand saw to try and make some shooting lanes and I was set to move in the next morning.

I planned to be in the tree at least 2 hours before legal shooting I figured that left me time to put some steps in, get settled and allow the bush to settle down from my movements. I hoped that it would be early enough that the deer would still be in the corn and allow me to slip across the hay field without being noticed. I'm sure I was un-noticed by some deer somewhere but the three that bolted as walked past them along the forest edge certainly knew I was there. II was very frustrated and convinced I had ruined my chances but I soldiered on. Fifteen minutes before first light my perseverance was rewarded with a buck wandering around under my stand. He strolled out into the field and wandered back in as the clock clicked into the land of legal.

Naturally he didn't make it easy. He wandered deeper into the forest and looked like he was wandering off. I gave a little grunt and a gentle rattle on my rattle bag. I was trying to sound like two young bucks fiddling with each other before the rut as opposed to a full blown battle. I don't know if I accomplished the sound I was looking for but the buck turned and started to circle back towards me. I slowly swung around the tree a bit to improve my position in relation to this new approach he was using. He came in fits and starts and just as I was certain he was going to step out from behind the tree I came to full draw.

Clearly this day wasn't going to work at all like I had envisioned. He only stuck his nose out from behind the tree and all the important bits I needed for the shot were still protected. Let me tell you that even with a 4 pound bow and the let off on a 60 pound draw it gets a little uncomfortable very very quickly. I didn't dare move now though. He would see it and was only 15 yards away. As my arm started to shake like the San Francisco Earth quake I started to panic a little. Trophyline to the rescue. I dropped my arm slightly and used the straps of the tree saddle to brace my right wrist. It wasn't a perfect solution but it sure helped. A few moments later he stepped from behind the tree and I raised my fully drawn bow for the shot.

I didn't actually see it. I certainly heard it. The disheartening sound of carbon on tree branch. I'm still not sure which one I hit. I couldn't see it in the murky light of early morning. It didn't take a lot of imagination on my part to realize that this shot wasn't going to be anything like last year's shot. There would be no 70 yard dash to collapse dead a few moments later. My heart fell into my shoes as the buck departed deeper into the bush. Out came the blackberry and my game of digital poker became the thing I tried to distract myself with while I waited.

The long and the short of this story is that I never saw the buck again. 4 hours later and two farms away I couldn't find any more trail to follow. I was upset on many levels. Upset that I was two farms away. Upset that it wasn't within yards of where we started with the result a nice quick end. Upset at the waste of it all. In the end I was forced to give up my search without success. I can tell you that the area around that tree looks almost like it's been hit by agent orange. My sage and experienced friends commiserated with me and tried to reassure me by mentioning that, while unfortunate, sometimes happens to the best of them.

Not completely daunted I was back in that tree a week later. This story is much shorter. The deer busted me 2 hours early as per the last time. This time a young buck walked the edge of the field and presented me with a lovely broadside shot at 15 yards. Maybe it was the last shot, maybe bad luck. I was a little high and a little forward. I heard the smack of steel on bone as the broadhead hit his shoulder blade. I could see my shaft on the ground where he used to be standing. I could see the fact that it was on my side of him and not the other side. I could see the lack of a broadhead attached. I think it was an understatement to say that I was an unhappy boy. I might not know a lot about physics but I know that energy can only be spent once. If it's being spent breaking steel then it isn't being spent going through bone to be where it needs to be.

So that's essentially the sum total of my deer season to date. Disheartening to say the least. I have friends who keep encouraging me. I must have sounded like I was going to give up. I considered it briefly. Instead I climbed up onto the roof of a large truck in my driveway and practiced some more. Shotgun season started and forced me to take a break. I chased some geese and ducks a bit and decompressed. I reflected on why I chose the path I did and contemplated the depth and breadth of the responsibility I took on when I committed to being the one responsible for killing his own meat. It was a sad experience but in the end…I'll be in the tree come Friday.

Today’s Goose Hunting Episode Is Brought To You By The Letter F…For Failure

2010-10-31T14:18:00.004-04:00

For a week now I've been watching hundreds of Canada Geese pile into the corn fields across the road from my house. Hundreds and hundreds of yummy looking geese. Off to the post office I headed to pick up my migratory game bird license because I decided I needed a bit of a change. It was time to chase some geese.

I had to overcome some problems. The first one was what to use to shoot them. What do you do when your old shotgun can't shoot steel and other non-toxic shot is brutally expensive or non-existent? You make Flu Flu's of course.

I was somewhat prepared for this. I had a supply of feathers in my garage aka Ward's man cave and junk room. It was all set. I spent the afternoon making flu flu's. I made three. I figured if things worked out optimally that would be two flu flu's more than I needed. Needless to say I went into this with a reasonable expectation of my chances of success.

I had it all figured out. Write my 3.5 hour exam starting at noon, race home and head for the field to intercept the waves of geese just dying to land in reach of my brilliantly laid out decoys and my super fantastic calling skills. Oddly it didn't work out quite like that. I woke in the morning and watched the early birds heading in, only to hear the sounds of someone shooting at MY geese.

Ok I admit this wasn't the best thought out plan I've had. I read up quickly and on how to set decoys in fields for geese and where to put your layout blind. I didn't have a corn coloured layout blind. I had a forest flavoured sit out blind. I stuffed some corn stalks in it but the gale force winds seemed to rip them out almost as fast. The standard J pattern field decoy placement seemed to be a problem with my 4 sad old floating decoys I managed to scrounge up.

Even when I got into the blind and looked out it didn't look any better. Not much I could do about it now though. It's what I had and come what may I was hunting.

I knocked one of my fabulously made flu flu's, that may or may not actually fly straight enough to kill something, into my bow and discovered my first unexpected problem. The feathers were too long to accommodate my drop away rest cocked the way it was supposed to be. I was going to have to allow it to cock as I drew the bow.

I sat back with great anticipation and waited for the mayhem to start.

The first flight of geese appeared as if from nowhere. I grabbed my goose flute and went to put my limited practice to work. It's Halloween season. In keeping with the season my first call was expertly designed to sound like a zombie goose coming back, begrudgingly, from the dead. It was intentional. Honest! You believe me right? OK it was at this moment I was glad there was no one there to hear me. I was glad from the moment I arrived in the field actually. The entire adventure would have had seasoned goose guys smirking behind their hands.

Needless to say they didn't land. Actually that isn't true. They landed soon after they flew over my head. I spent the next 30 or so minutes watching hundreds of geese land. They landed beside me, in front of me and behind me. Hundreds of them but all well out of range. In the last 5 or so minutes I decided to try and sneak across the open corn field to try and shoot one. I was desperate. Did pretty good though. Got almost 100 yards from one bunch. Now I know why they don't spot and stalk geese in corn fields. They wisely use shotguns and lots of decoys. Oh well! Live and learn.

Devilish Deer Season

2010-10-29T20:25:00.002-04:00

Apparently I've annoyed the dark forces that protect deer.

See his antlers? I'm sure it's the demon deer pumpkin.

I was going to shoot him. "She Who Must Be obeyed" said I shouldn't waste time. I'd only miss anyway.

Then she mumbled something about upset children and how I'd suffer some strange affliction called celibacy.

T3 Or Not T3

2010-10-27T17:06:00.015-04:00

I imagine every bow hunter does it from time to time. As the season approaches you start to wonder if the broad head you are using is being all that it can be. This being my second season hunting deer, I certainly had more questions than answers. Last year I shot some old 100 grain Thunderheads but I really like the idea of a mechanical head flying like a field point. To me it makes sense because it would reduce shooting errors down to just the things I do and not flight characteristics. With that in mind I started researching the net.

I had heard both the pro's and cons of some of the mechanical heavyweights in the industry. My trip to the local pro shop had me receiving a strong recommendation to purchase one of those heavyweights. You know the one. I won't name it but it's the angry one. I had heard enough mixed concerns about it that it made me somewhat leery. The head that caught my eye was the one I had heard nothing about because it was so new. I really liked the concept behind G5's offering in the form of the T3. The pro shop could give me no information as they had just received their first shipment and had no shooters using it yet. So I volunteered to report back to them what my experiences with the heads were. I'm now going to share my impressions with you. This is all from the field. I have done no side by side shooting on the range. Everything I'm about to relay to you happened as I was hunting.

Before I go on I think I should set some parameters. Every time I read a discussion about performance invariably someone blames the bow, or the weight of the arrow. To give you some perspective so you can form you opinions of what I'm about to write I'll post my equipment stats.

Bow - 2010 Hoyt Alpha Max 32

Draw Weight - 60 pounds

Speed - I haven't chrono'd it but according to the calculations my copy of software for archers I should be shooting somewhere in the neighbourhood of 289 fps.

Arrow – Carbon Express Maxima Hunter 350

Arrow length – 29 inches

Approximate arrow weight with 100 grain head (according to Software) 390 grains

Quiver – An old Quiki Quiver set up for fixed broad heads.

The concept behind the T3 is delightfully simple. There is a small knob on the sides of the leading corner of the blades. You can't see it in the above picture because it slides into a channel along the length of the head. When you slide the blade fully forward to close it requires a slight downward and forward pressure to cause those knobs to slip into a small grove inside the channel. The spider clip at the back simply provides upward pressure on the two small ridges above it causing the friction required to hold the blade in place. When the head contact an object it can penetrate the small shelf simply slides off those clips and the blade slides down the channel to open. Simple right?

G5 sends each set of T3's with extra clips which is good because they seem to be a one use situation. The instructions mention that after time they could wear out but my experience was that they would bend open when shot and never be the same again. This required them to be replaced. They send practice blades that don't depend on the clips because they don't open. When I installed the practice blades and took some test shots the head performed as advertised. It shot beautifully and truly was as accurate as my field tips.

The first problem I noticed was with my quiver. I had two problems. The first one was that placing the tip in the hole caused the blade to deploy in the quiver because the hole was fixed blade sized and not a small impression designed simply to hold the tip. That required a little tape to correct although I will admit it was not the most effective solution to the problem. The more significant problem I had was when the broad heads would shift from center in the quiver.

The issue wasn't one of sound, although that could be a possibility, it was the lateral pressure of the blade contacting the side of the quiver. For me this is a big deal. Any pressure placed sideways on the blades caused the spider clip to compress. The second these two small pieces of metal flattened out they lost the ability to keep the broad head closed. Certainly not what you want as things happen in the bush and your equipment should be able to take a little knocking around before failure.

One of the things everyone worries about is blood trail. I hit a deer with the T3 on my 4^th day out. The blades deployed as advertised as it passed through the deer.

The blood trail started about 40 yards from the hit and was fairly substantial. Sadly I had switched trees in the dark and missed a small branch. The small branch didn't miss my arrow however and it deflected the shot badly. Many hours later and a mile away my attempts to pick up the trail ended and the deer was lost. That, however, is the topic of another story. Prior to that a significant amount of the trail looked like this.

A week later I was back in the bush on the edge of a field when a young buck came along and presented me with a 15 yard shot. This is where our tail of the T3 takes a turn for the worse. There's no worse sound, I'm now convinced, than the crack you hear of broad head on bone. I caught him in the shoulder blade. The T3 was an abysmal failure. Not only did it fail to penetrate the shoulder but it shattered at the top of the threads. The arrow simply bounced away and landed in the grass. The deer disappeared down the length of the field never to be seen again and without leaving a single drop of blood to follow. Needless to say the anxiety I felt from the shot prior to this was multiplied significantly as I watched another wounding. Just to clarify the head failed structurally without any outside interference. He didn't brush it against any trees. He was standing in an open field and the arrow came to rest within a few feet of where he was standing. The last I saw of him he was limping slightly as he slipped into the trees.

Much to my great sadness I have been forced to decide the T3 experiment is a failure. The problem with keeping them from deploying was annoying but the shoulder issue was the final straw. I haven't completely given up on mechanicals but I have to admit that last night I took the last two T3's off my shafts and switched to a different one. At the risk of looking like a sheep in the giant flock of bow hunters I put the angry one on. Hopefully my experience with it will be better.

Ward!! Where did you go??

2010-10-25T15:45:00.000-04:00

Blog: Hey where are you? I feel ignored and neglected.

Me: I'm thinking of you. Isn't that enough?

Blog: No. I need love. I need a sense of appreciation. I need to feel like I matter to you.

Me: Baby you know I love you. I just been busy.

Blog: Don't give me that busy crap. You always put other things before me. Why can't I be the most important thing in your life?

Me: Baby you know I love you. You ARE important. Don't talk like that...

So what happened. Well for those who have been following along with the events of my crazy busy year and may have missed this part. After I got married in turkey season, ( *whispers*careful of what you say to that. "She who must be obeyed" is watching,) I decided I wanted an MBA. So I'm in the middle of tuning up my 3 year degree into something my alma matter likes for their MBA program. So now I study, write exams, hunt a bit and spend time with the wife and kids.

I do have blog entries to make. I've been out several times and each is a tale to tell. I've put what I learned in the last 12 months to good use and although I still have struggles I'm definitely making progress.

In addition to some interesting hunting stories I'm going to try my hand at a product review. I decided to try a mechanical broad head this year. I chose G5's T3 and since the pro shop couldn't help much due to it's newness I have been giving them regular reports on my experience with it. I'm now going to try and share that experience with you guys.

So stay tuned. I might not get much up right away but as soon as I get a chance I'll probably start posting like a fiend.

I hope you are all having a great season.

Ward

A Summer of Change

2010-10-02T22:18:00.019-04:00

This has been a summer of change. Our general vacation plans are usually pretty simple. Take the family to the cottage for a week in July, pack the children off to summer camp and have a second and less restrained week with just Alissa and I in August. Sadly this year the second week didn't happen. The cottage was a busy place with friends, family and others filling the place on the weeks we could get available. I took the opportunity, however, to start lobbying for a back country camping trip. I have to admit I may have been a little aggressive in my idea of what type of first camping experience would suit my wife. In the end the idea of bad weather, an event she may not enjoy and the possibility of playing patty cake with overly friendly bears swayed the vote in her favour.

In the end, however, it has worked out fine. My neophyte wife and neophyte children were ok with the idea of camping in one of the local conservation area parks. The labour day weekend was the chosen dates as we began to plan the family farewell to summer adventure. Needless to say the kids were over the moon with excitement. Alissa had weather trepidation but soldiered on as we accumulated the things we would need. I kept reminding her we would be only 15 minutes from home so we didn't need to plan for every eventuality. Having said that it was great to see her think about all the things that can go wrong on a camping trip. It's a mindset that will serve us well when I finally win the back country vote.

The fateful day arrived and we loaded the truck to head for the campsite. It was a mind numbing array of "stuff" we had. I wasn't sure what we would do with everything or how we would ever survive if this was the pile that would have to be backpacked in. It certainly isn't the most minimalist of camping approaches I've used. I've roughed it on a level that only someone who has carried a rifle for his country can truly appreciate. I don't ever remember my kit containing a combination marshmallow/smore/hot dog roaster. Of course my kit back then didn't include a ten and a six year old either.

We arrived at the conservation area and began to set up camp. The weather was cool and nice. My neophyte camper bride made your typical rookie error of setting up a couple of tarps over our tent and one of the picnic tables. I grudgingly helped and grumbled at having to go through the hassle. That lasted right up until the good Lord rewarded her frivolous extra effort with….rain! Good thing my wife wasn't an old pro like me or we would have been wet and then I really would have grumbled. Stupid weather. So for the next three days our home away from home was our brand new 7 man tent.

Breakfast was a rugged but satisfying affair. I got the fire going nicely and then Ainsley, our 10 year old, cooked us a delicious meal of scrambled eggs. She thought it was the greatest thing.

The weather was never very co-operative. It pretty much rained lightly all weekend. It didn't seem to slow anyone down. The other campground kids careened up and down the road with their bicycles. We fished a little and took a long walk on one of their groomed trails. It had this fabulous boardwalk through the marshy part of the lake.

The weekend came to an end and with it the last of the summer vacation. The next day the kids were headed back to school and a week later I was scheduled to return to University in an attempt to try and get myself an MBA. Alissa was getting ready for a shift in her job. She was being transferred from training hearing ear dogs to their new autism program. I never realized a service dog could be useful for autism but apparently they are. So everything is changing. At least we are keeping with Heraclitus's axiom. "The only thing constant is change."

The count down is on.

2010-08-30T20:55:00.012-04:00

I'm doomed! I'm sure of it. After some intensive reading of John Eberhart's book, Precision Bowhunting, there is no possible way I'm going to bag a giant P & Y buck this year. Ok maybe I'm being over dramatic but I certainly wish I had bought this book last year instead of this year. I have enjoyed the book so far. It gives a great month by month process to plan and prepare for the conquest of the biggest bad boy you can find.

It's not a total loss. For starters I have a tree saddle which is what the Eberhart's hunt in exclusively. I should be able to more effectively and less intrusively adapt as I go through the season. I've pulled the camera out of the bush and won't go back again until hunting season. I'm not thrilled with the preparation I've made but I've decided that doing it now is the wrong end of the year. Some of last year's mid season scouting will be very useful this year and it's in a section of bush with little understory and very tall canopies.

So why did I pull the camera? Ok I'll admit it wasn't completely because of the book. I think I've found what I want on this particular farm and I have 3 more farms and only one camera. If it hadn't been a bazillion degrees out today I probably would have set it up again for a week or so in a "plan B" site for opening day if the wind isn't in my favour. I got some fabulous pictures at this site, however, so I'm feeling pretty pumped. One month to go until opening day and hopefully these guys will make an appearance.

Smile you’re on candid game cam

2010-08-23T20:50:00.024-04:00

The summer has been one of mixed blessings. We didn't get to the cottage very often and the one family trip we made was done at a time when the water was so warm we couldn't find many fish above the 40 foot mark. After a week of touring the usual hotspots we only had a couple of VERY small pike to show for it. Lures, minnows and a fish finder were no match for the ultimate victor in the week long family fishing derby. On the last night of our stay it was my ten year old daughter who found some edible sized bass at the end of our dock with nothing more than a worm. Isn't that always the way? I have to admit I have a certain frustration. Last year I was out fished by my wife. This year I was out fished by my ten year old. I suspect next year my six year old will probably out fish me but she might still be young enough that I can force her to catch sunfish. The way things have been going it will likely result in some big Musky swooping in on her Barbie pole and giving her the victory.

    I started making the rounds to my landowners as I look forward to the fall deer season. It wasn't a very difficult thing to do. There were only two of them. Sadly the one farm decided to close to hunters. It was a nice spot. On the plus side I managed to open 4 new farms so I guess it was a good trade. Two of the farms are owned by the same farmer and represent a small portion of his holdings. Hopefully, with time, I can develop that relationship and expand the number of farms he lets me hunt. I still have a few more ideas for hunting sites I want to pursue before the season arrives. Time is getting tight, however, as I head back to university to pursue an MBA in the next few weeks. I've been warned by "she who must be obeyed" that the next 2 years have to be school first and hunt second. School first will be a unique notion for me but I think I can manage. It's probably a good thing I'm hunting as it'll be about the only real contribution I'm going to be making to the family finances for a bit. Thank goodness I have an accommodating and supportive wife.

    So the scouting has begun in earnest. It hasn't been an easy adventure. The weather has been a balmy six BILLION degrees and I haven't been able to move far from home without an air conditioning unit. A couple of attempts and it became clear to me that I needed a better way to carry water. This, naturally, gave me the health and safety excuse to go to Bass Pro. You should try that excuse. It goes like this:

"I agree honey. I've spent far more than I need to already on my hunting gear. This is different. The doctors and everyone say you have to drink plenty of water or it can kill you. So this hydration bladder isn't really hunting gear. Think of it more as a medical appliance. A necessity of life since a lack of water is deadly."

If you buy any bits and bobs while you are out buying your necessary medical appliance I recommend you keep them small enough and cheap enough to be able to hide in the bottom of the bag and have a plausible excuse if she finds it. I also recommend you don't write a blog like this as she watches over your shoulder.

"Sweetness all I bought with the bladder was the windy uppy gear strap thingie…honest."

    I've added a new tool to my scouting arsenal. One of my trips to Bass Pro this summer involved the purchase of my very first scouting camera. After some humming and hawing I decided to take a financially conservative approach and went with the Wild Game Innovations IR 4.

True to their claims it was very easy to set up. I left it at the 30 seconds per picture so once I had the date and time set all I had to do was turn it on for the default settings. I wish it had more light emitters for the night shots but it's only a $100 dollar camera so I guess I have to be satisfied. I tracked down some steel cable and a pad lock so no one would walk off with it and headed for the bush.

I was pretty excited to see all the deer walking past the stand where I shot my deer last year. I selected the site because they had a trail beaten from the neighbors' field to the corn past where I had been sitting. I left the camera on the tree for almost 2 weeks as I agonizingly waited. The best shot I got was this one.

Sadly if I hunt him I'll have to write a letter to my family just before I shoot him. Oh wait. That's what they call suicide. Maybe if I strap antlers on top of my head my wife won't notice it doesn't taste the same as last year. The only other picture on the camera was this one.

So if you can see anything edible in that shot let me know because I certainly don't. Needless to say I was quite sad and immediately moved the camera. I checked it seven days later and got a much better result.

I can see why people have more than one camera. I now have 6 farms with multiple sites I would like to have camera's on. I haven't quite figured out how to make the necessary medical device argument work yet. When I do….

What I REALLY did this turkey season

2010-07-07T20:32:00.017-04:00

I think that it's only fair of me to mention to you die-hards that this was planned before I decided to try Turkey hunting. A week into Turkey season, with only 3 days under my belt, I paused for a wedding and honeymoon. I know what you'll say. "Ward don't you own a calendar. Couldn't you have picked a month where nothing interfered. While I admit that we had originally tried to do that, in the end I had to pick an earlier day. It's all good though. Let's face it. This is the woman who swoons to a turkey call. May 8 dawned and off to the church we went. I was dressed in my penguin suit and had enough sense to leave the turkey call at home. I can only imagine what sort of trouble I could have got myself into with that device in my pocket….

Minister: Do you Ward take Alissa to me your bride?

Me: Cluck cluck purr

Alissa: I think I'm going to be mounting your head on the wall.

Two days later we were on the beach in Bahamas.

And in true tropical honeymoon fashion it wasn't long until we were relaxing with a cool beverage. Seems to be a common theme.

This blog isn't a food and drink blog so enough of that. This trip gave me a great opportunity to re-acquaint myself with another of my favourite outdoor pursuits. I was first certified as a SCUBA diver in 1986 and never fail make sure I get some dive time in whenever the opportunity presents itself. My honeymoon was the perfect opportunity.

Fortunately for me Sandals provided a professional photographer on almost every dive so there were some great pictures to choose from. It's hard to incorporate all the good things you see underwater but I did manage to get some great shots of some of the better moment. The wind was blowing fairly firmly all week and the first day was one of the worst. We couldn't go out into open water so the dive guides picked a shallow area that was between 10 and 20 feet deep. It probably would have been very disappointing except for one redeeming moment. This fellow showed up.

Turtles seem to be quite curious and will linger as long as you don't mess with them too much. HE watched us and we watched him. It was great.

The reefs in Bahamas has an invasive species. They tell me it's Lionfish. They seem to do very well because every time we got into the water we found a lot of them.

We found them tucked into little caves. We found them on the top of the reef. We found them in the shallows. We found them in the deeper waters. They were everywhere and magnificent.

The one day we saw sharks there was no cameraman. We jumped in the water and about 70 feet below us we could see a 6 foot grey shape cruising around. By the time I got to his depth he had moved off out of sight. We investigated a large wreck there and found a couple of large stingrays and had 3 smaller sharks show up and check us out. It was quite exciting. We saw some eels and barracuda and a big grouper peeking out from some coral.

One of the smallest but coolest things I found was a little snail hanging on a piece of corral. He wasn't very big. Only an inch or two long.

So that sums up a good chunk of my turkey season. A very good trade I think.

Talkin’ Turkey

2010-07-07T18:13:00.023-04:00

The alarm sounded far too early on the third day of turkey season. The alarm always sounds too early during hunting season. Don't get me wrong I like watching sunrises but I remain firmly convinced that it would be far more civilized if the sun and wildlife waited until a respectable hour like 9 or 10 o'clock. Noon would be a little unreasonable but 10 would be brilliant. That means you could get up at 7 and still have plenty of time to get into the bush. I was exhausted. It probably didn't help that I had barely slept considering that today was going to be my second lifetime attempt to get a turkey and for the first time ever I had hired a guide to help make it happen.
Ken Cull got the nod. I've mentioned him before and I looked forward to hunting with him. He had suggested I leave my bow at home for this one and graciously offered me the use of his shotgun. Since I didn't have a shotgun ready for turkey this offer was greatly appreciated. I made one last check of my equipment against the list he had sent me and headed for our pre-arranged meeting place. I have to say that I was particularly excited about the fact that scent was not on the list of worries for turkey hunting.

Ken was the picture of a turkey hunter. He had the cool Primos turkey vest. His pockets bulged with the tools of the trade. Mouth calls, box calls, pot calls, assorted strikers. He had them all. His vest bulged with turkey decoys and he even had the little "don't look at me I'm a tree stump" turkey hunting stool. I, on the other hand, had a camera. Granted I was in my very best camouflage. You can tell it's my best because it's the only pair I own. Ken quietly started to give me instructions as to what to expect and how we were going to go about doing things this morning. I, quite naturally, tried to pretend I was as cool as a cucumber when really I felt about as calm as a squirrel drinking Red Bull.

With a couple of last minute instructions we were finally ready and we set off across a corn stubble field in the dark. It wasn't very long before we came to some trees in a fencerow on the edge of a larger bush. Ken had spotted turkeys headed for roosting trees in the corner of this bush. He set me up against a tree and showed me the best way to sit with my shotgun. He hunkered down behind my left shoulder and we waited for the sun.

I grew up watching Warner Brothers cartoons. In the cartoons you always knew when morning was breaking because a rooster would greet the arrival of the sun with a boisterous cock-a-doodle-do. Turkey hunting is similar. As the sun started to seep softly over the horizon the first turkey greeted it. Like a well rehearsed opera the first gobble rang out to be answered by the song of the chorus echoing his melody. Ken did exactly the opposite of what I had done my first day. He did absolutely nothing. After many minutes of me wondering why we weren't calling turkeys over to us he finally did the exact opposite of what I had done my first day. Again! He gave a small series of clucks.

For anyone not familiar with the subtle nuances of calling turkeys there's a reason Ken has eaten wild turkey and I have not. Calling turkeys is a love story. It's a tale similar to that of innocent teenaged boys meeting seasoned professional harlots. Done well you can imagine the discussion going something like this:

Gobbler: HEY! BABBYYYYYYY! I'm here and I'm ready and able. Bring me all your women. Don't worry about them being the best. Just a pulse will do. Come on hurry up.

Hen (yawning and speaking softly):What's all the ruckus so early in the morning. A girl's gotta have her beauty sleep.

Gobbler: Come on…Comeoncomeon come on! Unlock the door and let me in. I got plans.

Hen: Settle down now son. It's early and I'm tired.

Gobbler: No! No! Now. I'm up and I'm ready. Unlock the door. Let's get to it.

Hen: oh alright here we go. I'll get up and let you in. Wait a second. You didn't tell me you brought friends.

Gobbler: Oh don't mind them. Here I'll get rid of them.

Hen: No baby don't you be wandering of too far to be playing big man on campus. You get over here and focus your attention on me. Sheesh you guys have ADD some days. What's a girl to do?

In the perfect world the result of that discussion would have put one of those gobblers in gun range. Sadly the turkeys stepped into the field and then quickly decided their fortunes favoured the east and off they went in the wrong direction. Ken coaxed, seduced and wheedled but to no avail. After about an hour and a half he realized we were in the wrong spot that morning and quickly decided it was time for a game plan change.

The next farm we went to was a little tougher to get into. It would have been better if I had rubber boots but I managed to keep my feet fairly dry. We set up in a sand field that was pretending to be a cornfield. The farmer hadn't been able to get through the water to tend it so it was an unharvested weedy thing. This worked well for our purposes. You could see where the turkeys had created small hollows in the sandy ground as they bathed themselves in dust.

Ken quickly popped up a blind and tossed in two nice folding chairs. I can tell you that for the future this will be my chosen method over trying to look like a tree stump. It was quite decadent by comparison.

It wasn't very long before a turkey popped quietly out of the bottom of the field we were sitting in. The turkey seemed to be determined to keep heading west as Ken started to try and seduce him. Half way across the field he finally stopped and came to half strut. We had his attention at last. More to the point Ken had his attention. I was simply trying to not screw up.

Slowly he made his way towards us and there were a few times when I thought he had changed his mind. Each time he would drift back towards his original path Ken would sweet talk him back. At about 60 or 70 yards he slipped back into the bush. When we saw him again he had friends as more turkeys slipped from cover. A hen and several other gobblers joined the party as Ken continued with his seduction. They approached the area we had the decoy set up and the dominant Tom joined the fray and identified himself by both his size and the fact that he was clearly the boss of the bunch. I put the bead of the shotgun on his head and squeezed the trigger.

It's at this point I have to admit that Ken may have said wait. I know he whispered something but I couldn't hear him. I don't claim to be the most brilliant judge of distance but I was pretty sure I had it right. When the smoke cleared I could see the tail feathers of the bird sticking straight in the air. The bird gave a kick and lay dead still. There were high fives all around and I was doing my best to remain mister cool. One should never get too silly in an enclosed space when you have a shotgun in hand. Ken kicked the blind off of us and with a grin we approached my prize. I've never seen miraculous divine intervention before. I've read about it. People coming back to life. That sort of thing. What I saw that day though must have been divine intervention. The only other explanation I can think of is that they breed turkeys on planet Krypton and sent them to earth with Superman. As I approached my dinner it stood up and bolted for the bushes. I was so stunned that by the time I remembered to shoot it a second time it was pretty much off the ground flying through the trees.

I was speechless. It's ok though. Ken had enough to say for both of us. He was gloriously upset and stunned at what had just happened. I tried to keep my disappointment under wraps because I didn't want Ken to think I blamed him. He did a great job. Clearly I hadn't made a good enough shot. How a thing can survive getting shot in the head is beyond me though. It annoyed me to no end to think the bird could be out there somewhere with a doomed future. I don't like the uncertainty of a bad shot. Maybe it will be ok. A clean miss is so much more certain. So the rest of the morning was spent on the hunt for a dead bird. Ken and I eventually parted company and I went back and searched for another hour in the hopes that if I just looked a little longer and a little farther I would find it. It amounted to nothing, however, and I'm certain the bird spent the rest of the day being annoyed with the idea that one of the lesser toms got his girlfriend.

I would certainly recommend the guide experience for a new turkey hunter. I learned a lot. The next morning I was out with my own setup. I made some changes to what I was doing in keeping with what I had learned from Ken the day before. When the gobbling started the next morning I let them wait and then only started giving some soft clucks now and then. It took a while but I was rewarded with a gaggle of jakes practically bumping into my decoy at 20 yards. Sadly they didn't present me with a shot. They stayed so tightly grouped that I couldn't hit one without hitting at least two. That didn't change until they had moved back out of bow range. I wasn't happy with the outcome but I was content to see I was making progress. There's still hope I won't be eating tag soup this spring.

I haven't completely vanished

2010-05-19T21:06:00.000-04:00

Well folks I have to apologize for the lack of stories lately. I do have some more turkey stories and now some that fit into the "other outdoor tales" category. In my defense I've not only been traveling extensively with work but I got married, did a honeymoon and am studying for the GMAT. Hang tight and I'll try and get one or two done this week before I leave for Chicago.

Turkey Love

2010-04-29T21:27:00.000-04:00

If turkeys flew fighter planes I think Monday morning would have sounded something like this.

“Roost control to Gobbler one you have clearance to start engines and taxi to runway 32 west.”

“Roger Roost Control. Gobbler One is ready on 32 west. Engines run up and ready for launch.”

“Roger Gobbler One. We have two contacts bearing 280 degrees.”

“Roger Roost Control. Freeing guns and going in.”

“Roost Control this is Gobbler One. I have a SAM lock on me. Contacts are hostile. Breaking off.”

And that pretty well sums up opening day for me.

I was pretty excited when the alarm went off at 4 am. My first ever turkey hunt was about to begin. I donned my camo grabbed the bow and headed for the bush. I had a plan to hunt about the only bit of turkey sign I saw on my friends farm. I walked to the edge of the corn field and found a bit of dryness for my blind and set it up. It was the best situation because it was a narrow strip of grass with swamp water on one side and field mud on the other. Made a rather limited number of seating options. The swamp was huge and I was hopeful the turkeys would cross it today.

Gobbling started early which made me happy. I heard several birds gobbling away. It wasn’t long after dawn that I heard something splashing through the swamp. I didn’t have the back flaps of the blind open so I could only see through a couple of tiny openings. I could see a coyote slowly sneaking through the water heading towards the downwind side of my decoys. I think I had him fooled. Clearly not as smart as the turkey’s turned out to be. I didn’t mind the idea of starting my day with a coyote but as soon as he got downwind from me he disappeared back into the bush at a much faster clip than he came out.

I did manage to see some birds. I had two come in through the gap in the fence from the neighbor’s field. They took one look at my decoys and disappeared. I later realized that one of the hen decoys had become bent. I’m guessing they don’t look like that in real life.

Maybe the decoy set up wasn’t brilliant. I got the new issue of Ontario Out of Doors and it had a great bunch of articles on setting up decoys. Sadly I got it 2 days after these sad pictures were taken. Not great timing on their part I thought but what can you do?
That pretty much summed up my day. I hunted in the evening but it was so uneventful that there is no point even describing it. Heard nothing, saw nothing, did nothing sums it up completely. On a positive note I did manage to cross this rather large swamp and get into the bush.

The bush was only slightly less swampy in many areas but what I found a lot of were deer trails that looked like this.

I’ve already started to pick out some good trees to use my tree saddle in. I might not have had a great turkey hunt but come fall I will definitely be a deer ninja. Until then I guess I’m going to keep lying to turkeys until one of them falls for it.

Turkey Season gets close

2010-04-19T10:49:00.001-04:00

Turkey season is imminent and my excitement is building. The bow is tuned as good as I can get it. I'm practicing on a turkey silhouette out to 40 yards. I'm having scouting issue though. The first issue is that I've lost some turkey ground. It makes me sad as the one farm I've seen turkeys on. The farm I have left for the turkey season is rumoured to be crawling with turkeys but I have yet to see sign of them. There's an almost un-passable swampy part between the fields and the bush that may dry up in time but I'm uncertain. On a positive note it's showing significant deer sign that looks good for this coming deer season.

So I'm still scrambling for a spot on opening day but if it doesn't work out brilliantly I think I'm ok. I met one of the Vortex Pro shooters in my area and he offered a guided turkey hunt. Ken Cull is his name and he's got a reputation for being very good at introducing new hunters to the sport. http://vortexcanada.net/prostaff/ken_cull.html I have to be honest. The bow will not be making the journey on that day. After a bit of a discussion I decided that using one of his shotguns would be wise so that I can focus more on all the other components of the hunt. Also I don't want to miss the bird considering his guarantee is a legal bird within 40 yards but no discount if I then miss it. The stuff I do on my own will be with the bow. Missing for free is ok .

So now I'll be scouting and working and praying I still have the day off on the 26^th. My eldest daughter is home from school today so I think our plans will be to finish up in the office and head out to the turkey woods. She's so much fun to watch. Every flicker of movement. Every squeak of sound must be thoroughly investigated. She's convinced it must be a turkey. I think we'll leave the pack of supplies home. I don't have the energy to carry it like I did in the cold of rabbit season.

I'm Straight

2010-04-07T20:07:00.000-04:00

So today I’m going to try and raise my nerd level a little. Pictures say a thousand words so hopefully I can make this work and be speechless. Just in case, however, I’ll do some babbling so I don’t inadvertently leave lots of unexplained blanks on this blog if the pictures don’t show up.
It was a little bit of a long shot but Alissa was headed for Winnipeg last week and Winnipeg has a Cabela’s. Like the good woman she is she trundled off looking to see if they have an EZE-Center laser for tuning bows. They aren’t available anywhere in Canada that I can find but Cabela’s in the US carries them so we thought we’d take a chance. She did a fabulous job in spite of the fact that Cabela’s in Canada doesn’t have them. She smiled sweetly at the Cabela’s staff member and he sent her off to a store called Heights Archery Range and Proshop. He didn’t carry them either but happened to have a used one in the back that he sold her for a sweet price. So now I have a laser tuning tool.
Now that I’m starting to fiddle with my own set up I decided that I needed a place to do it. Off to the “man cave” I went.

As you can see The man cave has a problem. It’s a full of crap cave. It has fabulous potential. It’s heated and large. My father ran a motorcycle shop here for years and this was the repair area. So I’ve embarked on a clean up and organization campaign but it will take a while. I managed to get enough sorted out that I can get at the work benches. It won’t be considered a success until the boat trailer/storage bench is out and safely living elsewhere.
The next task I needed was to get a bow vice. The best priced ones I could find were all at least $100. I have lots of tools and gadgets and was hoping to come up with something useful and inexpensive when I tripped over the perfect thing at Canadian Tire.

It’s a small woodworking vice with a rotating head that I have clamped to the bow and a piece of wood that’s clamped in a big metal vice I already had mounted. It worked pretty good. I stuck a string level on it and got it level in both directions and immediately discovered that my arrows weren’t square to the string. I use a QAD Ultra-rest so making some minor adjustments was pretty easy.
I took the site off and strapped the new EZE Center device into the site mounting holes. It was very easy to do with the mounted bolts.

I should probably apologies up front for the quality of the pictures. I used my Blackberry Curve and it’s not exactly the best choice for expert quality shots of this type.
The next step was to line the laser light up to the string in the centre.

I checked the centre by the rest and it looked not to bad but when I turned the head farther I could see it was far from centered.

As you can see it was out quite a bit. I was a little disappointed in myself as I had spent a fair amount of time using a micrometer trying to get everything set up just right. I was feeling pretty cocky until the laser showed me how far out I was.
Out came the tools and another little adjustment of the QAD Ultra-rest and the picture was much better. As you can see the light is in the center where it is supposed to be.

Save Now

Tomorrow my new shafts come all set to go and hopefully I’ll be dazzled. It’s just as likely I’m not good enough to see a difference. I feel more confident though. I STILL don’t know what to do about scent control and my underwear.

*Note* Got the shafts. Shot the Shafts. Love the Shafts and changes. I have to admit I definitely noticed a difference. I’m completely impressed. Turkey’s beware.

My thanks to Marian at mariandeer.blogspot.com/ and Kari at www.idontwearpinkcamotothewoods.com/ for their help trying to make me more computer literate.

Your first is always special.

2010-04-04T20:37:00.001-04:00

My knife cut through the tender meat. I raised the fork to my mouth and closed my eyes as the meat melted succulently across my taste buds. It was fabulous. Cooked to a turn, but not by me, it could rival the finest steaks I've eaten anywhere. There was only one significant difference. It wasn't steak. It was venison. It was the first venison I had ever brought home but it took some doing to get. Down to the wire. The last few days of my first season. I had all but given up.

The alarm rang on the third to last day of the deer season. It was 5:00 in the morning and I quietly slipped from between the sheets. I can't say that I was feeling particularly spritely. I had repeated this groggy ritual many, many times since October first without any success. I checked the weather report for the day and my shoulders slumped a little as I realize the wind had not held its end of the bargain. My nice new Christmas pop up blind was not going to get its maiden voyage into the bush. My only option was a tree stand that had been recently placed near what looked like a deer highway but had yet to produce anything but some turkeys clucking in the field next to me. My mood didn't improve when I realized that the best I was going to see in temperature was -13 degrees Celsius.

I can't say that the bitter cold inspired me to hunt like a pro. I, for the first time, only gave a passing thought to my underwear. I filled a thermos with hot cider. Tasty and apple scented. I went through the motions as always but I must admit I no longer believed. I planned for an entire day in the tree stand and wasn't looking forward to how much I was about to suffer. This was bound to be worse than the day it rained from dawn to dusk. I was certainly doing a hunters penance this season. With a sigh I loaded the truck and headed for the farm I was going to hunt that day.

Things really weren't going very well for me. A couple of times I considered turning around and heading home. As the sun rose and shooting time started I was still at the truck changing into my rather chilly hunt clothes. For the first time this season I didn't wait until I was cold before taking measures to try and correct it. I started the morning with hot packs everywhere I could. Thank goodness for the wonders of modern science and chemical reactions.

My boots crunched sharply in the snow as I set off back the farmers lane. You can always tell how cold it is by the sound of the snow. If you can hear it crunch loudly with every step then expect to suffer. That's a sure sign that it's miserably cold. On a positive note I spotted footprints on the path that gave me some hope. I hadn't seen so much as a single footprint the past few times I had been out here. I followed their route down the tractor path until I reached the point I had to turn left to head for my tree stand. The footprints didn't follow along. I was disappointed to see them carry straight on towards the bush on the other side of the hay field I was in. I walked along a small stream and was sad to see that the new snow didn't provide a single sign of deer. When I arrived at my tree stand things didn't look much more positive. There may have been some deer prints mixed in with the rabbit prints but there wasn't anything newer than 24 hours old.

I silently cursed the fates and started to mentally prepare myself for a long, bitterly cold sit waiting for the twilight to approach. I climbed into my stand and proceeded to organize my equipment. Once everything was hung and organized I began to play with my new laser rangefinder toy. I zapped everything. If it was larger than a grain of sand I tried to get a reading on it. It was great. No more guess work for me. After A few minutes I put the rangefinder away and pulled out my blackberry to check my facebook. As you can see I was not rating my odds very high. A quick check and a whining status update later I decided I should actually act like I thought I had a chance at accomplishing something. I settled into my chair, picked up my bow and placed it across my lap. A few minutes later I heard it. The quiet crunch of squirrels crossing the snow. It only took me a few seconds to realize that there was no way squirrels could make noise in the snow. As quietly as the conditions provided two young does came around the corner of the scrubby bushes I had followed. They were faithfully and foolishly following my footprints.

Even though the experience had been described to me more than once the sound of my own heartbeat screaming in my ears was a surprise. I had trouble believing they couldn't hear the hammering pump trying to smash its way through my ribs. Holding my breath didn't help. When I remembered to breath again I think the sound might have been enough to cause them to start a little. It was probably lucky that the ice in the stream behind me was booming and cracking enough that the small sound was quickly lost.

A few moments later the first doe moved out from behind the last of the trees and brush and put her head down to sniff a small tuft of grass. A moment later I realized that, in my youthful zeal of new toy-it is, I had ranged that spot at 20 yards only a few minutes earlier. I carefully came to full draw. Paused a second to mentally confirm my anchor and site picture. With a gentle squeeze on the release 30 inches of carbon and steel hurtled away from my Hoyt Alphamax. I watched it ricochet off the icy ground and smiled as I realized it was on the opposite side of the deer in front of me.

A few seconds later it was all over in the middle of the hay field. I had knocked another arrow but without a call the confused second doe finally listened to her anxiety and decided not to come back to my corner. She wasn't sure at first and I have wondered if a couple of bleats couldn't have won her over. I suppose that would have been greedy. As the adrenalin induced tremors coursed through my body I reached for my blackberry to brag to Alissa, who is my biggest fan, and for my laser range finder. It was new, the deer in the field was bigger than a grain of sand and I am, after all, a boy with a toy. Ninety yards was the verdict.

The rest was a little anti-climactic. Fifteen minutes later I climbed out of my tree stand. It was a sum total of 45 minutes from beginning to end. Not bad in 13 below weather. I walked out to inspect my prize. Not the biggest doe to ever to be taken. It was mine though. My first one ever. I quickly field dressed her, drove my truck into the field next to her in a quite decadent fashion and tossed her into the back. A little after an hour from the time I headed into the bush I was headed home. Next year I think I need to do this before it gets so cold. I wonder if I can get them all to come quickly and maybe drop in the back of the truck to save even more effort.

Help!

2010-04-04T18:36:00.000-04:00

I, sadly, can't make pictures post so I'm begging for help. I'm reading all the help files I can but seem to be stumped. I write my blogs in MS Word 2007 and push the publish button and it works great. For some reason I can't seem to figure out how to make the pictures go with them. I know someone will have the answer for me. Feel free to send me step by step instructions. It's best to pretend I'm not so bright. In the meantime I'll write a new blog that doesn't need pictures.

Hey are you purring at my wife?

2010-03-27T12:11:00.001-04:00

I find myself with a whole new sense of purpose this spring. Well maybe new isn't the proper word but certainly I've confirmed my springtime purpose. No longer will I simply be purring and clucking at my wife around the kitchen. As of a week ago Friday I officially became a licensed turkey hunter in Ontario. I passed my turkey hunting course.

The course I took was set up by the Ontario Federation of Angler and Hunters. It was a good course to take because it was only 3 hours. I probably could have written the test in 3minutes but sadly the Ontario government still likes the dollars they get from the program. I'm not sure of the courses current relevance but it definitely made sense 20 years ago.

For those who may not be aware the turkey population was extirpated from Ontario in the late 1800's. The Ontario Government, OFAH and others, decided to get together and reintroduce turkeys to Ontario about 25 years ago. The dollars from the turkey hunting course were earmarked to support those efforts. It was a brilliant success. Over the first five years of the program a total of 274 turkeys were released into Ontario. That small kernel of hope has grown into a province wide flock of 40,000+. Apparently we only had to trade some moose. Not a bad deal I think.

With the completion of my turkey course I embarked on a weekend of fun at the Toronto Sportsmen's Show. It was a pretty sweet set up with the Turkey course. All at the same place and my admission was included. I didn't get to see a lot on the first day. Alissa was there working with her dogs. She trains service dogs for a living and they had a booth and were doing a demonstration. I got a brief round of look see and then off to intercept the kids coming home from school.

The next morning we had arranged to attend the morning session of The Ontario Federation of Angler and Hunter's conference to see Dr Randall Eaton speak. Dr Eaton wrote "From Boys to Men of Heart: Hunting as a Rite of Passage". He is a behavioral scientist and the premise of his discussion was what kind of adults we create if we introduce our children to hunting. Granted, he spoke mainly about young boys but he did explain why. I would highly recommend you see him speak if you get the chance. He had lots of interesting things to say. Things like pointing out that Nelson Mandela and Jimmie Carter grew up to be Nobel Prize winners and they both hunt avidly. I also like the part when he discussed hunting as a sport. He asked the room to indicate who had come within shooting range of their prize and declined to harvest it. More than half of the room put up their hand. His next question was quite telling I thought. He asked "have you ever seen a basketball player not take the shot?" Of course we haven't. He asked if it really made sense to call something a sport when you don't take the shot? I tend to agree with him. It isn't a sport. It's life. A part of being a living organism that must feed on others to survive.

We spent two more days at the Sportsmen Show. The first day it was just the adults and the last day we took the kids. I won't do a blow by blow but there were some positive things that happened on both days. The first one being the dogs. There were a lot of dogs doing a lot of things. Our favourite was watching the Purina Gold Whistle Retriever Trials. Mid way through the Saturday competition Allissa leaned over and said quietly into my ear. "I'd really like to do this. And you can hunt the dog in the fall." Is that sweet or what? A trial quality trained hunting dog done by a dog training professional. The only thing that could make it better is if she gives it a full range of service dog training and it can get the beer from the fridge as well. Maybe carry all the decoys to the boat and if I'm really lucky teach it to drive to the marsh so I can sleep. Can service dogs do that?

I only had one problem at the Sportsmen's Show. It was at the Gobblestalker booth with the owner Kevin Bartley. He is way to good on the turkey calls and could out purr me. It was hard to keep Alissa at my side after I've conditioned her to respond to purrs and clucks on my turkey call. I'd get her back and Kevin would purr again and I'd be struggling to hold on. Oh the pressure. To stand there and watch your wife melt to the purr of another man's turkey call is hard on the ego. I will not be beaten though. It simply inspired me to practice more so that I can defend my hen.

In truth the guys at the Gobblestalker booth were fantastic. www.gobblestalkercalls.com Kevin makes custom made turkey calls and they are pretty good. I bought one and even with my little experience I could tell I had something exceptional. They name them all and they're all colour co-ordinated. I can tell you that I like the green one I got. Not sure what it's called but it's definitely green. So for now it's simply known as "the green one".

The first couple of days some great guys shared the gobblestalker booth. They were there promoting the Trophyline Tree Saddle. I don't know if you folks have looked at these but they make my nice new ninja tree stand look pretty non-ninja.

http://www.trophylineusa.com/

I looked seriously at these last year but they were too much money for something you can't really test. That's changed at the Sportsmen's Show. Rick Bullman, a neighbour of mine, had built a fake tree and you could climb up and try the treesaddle in a life like test. They even had a bow you could handle in the saddle. The thing was great and the price was brilliant. I own one now and am super pleased with how I felt hanging from it and how NINJA I'm going to be now. Rick was fantastic. After swapping stories of all the similar names we knew in the community he joked with Alissa and did a great job discussing the saddle frankly. He had some great ideas they've developed on their own for tactics and gadgets. I received a model that differed slightly from the one that I tested. Rick has loaned me his personal harness and after I'm done experimenting with them both we'll see what works better. He even said that if I wasn't pleased with the one design change I questioned he'd give me his personal one but I think that's going beyond the call of duty and I wouldn't feel right about taking him up on it. The thought was nice.

Another great guy I met at the booth was Steve Fowler. Steve is an outfitter from Wolfe Island area here in Ontario. (look it up it looks pretty incredible). He told me more about my bow in 5 minutes than I've managed to learn since I started to shop for one. It was great and I warned him he was going to end up in this blog as punishment for his help. Right now he's helping me select shafts. His emails in the last few days have been absolutely indispensible. He even suggested a source for new strings and what to modify in the cables when I change them so I can fix cam lean that can occur over time. I would put up his website but he doesn't seem to have one. If you want to go have a hunt with him let me know and I can hook you up. His card says he goes by Island Wolfe Whitetails, He's been at it since 1998 and "On private leased land in Bow Only Zone 69A. Meals, Accommodations and stands included. No Trophy Fee's and Non-Resident Buck tags available over the counter without lottery". I'm hoping if he reads this he'll build a website so I can simply post a link in the future.

So that about sums up last week. I joined QDMA and am looking forward to reading what they send me. I'm not sure how into the management I can get as I hunt other people's land and lots of Crown Land. I don't think the government would like me modifying their properties. It's still good things to know if I ever buy another farm. So now it's just a waiting game until turkey season starts April 26 and practice my purr. Next year Kevin….Next year.

What’s New

2010-03-14T22:04:00.001-04:00

I have a stick with a string on it. It's a useful tool for launching sharpened sticks at something you want to poke holes in. It sounds pretty easy but that's a slight oversimplification. The truth about my stick and string is that it's a modern engineering marvel. It consists of carefully designed and machined risers. It has two little pulley wheels at each end that they like to call cams. It's got high tech laminated limbs all designed to launch my pointy stick with a velocity and consistency not possible 20 years ago. All this in a lightweight four pound package.

I have to admit my pointy sticks are also a long way from feathers and sharpened wood. Engineered from carbon they are designed to withstand the rigours of being hurled at high velocities and then smashing into objects of varying solidity. The feathers are gone in favour of coloured plastic and if I'm after something flesh and bone I can trade the simple points in for razor sharp blades of doom.

There is some truth in my first statement. It's in my attitude. I have never put a lot of thought into my shooting beyond basic form and hit the target. The shop where I got my bow simply handed me some arrows. The discussion didn't get much past cost. I was told that I could buy a better quality arrow but that these would serve me fine. In truth they did. I practiced until my groupings were pretty close. It might not be Olympic calibre but certainly good enough to double lung any deer I was going to come across. I practiced regularly at 20 yards and a little at some farther yardages. It did the trick as can be illustrated by the venison in my freezer.

My attitude started to changed a few weeks ago as two things happened. The first thing that happened was that I started to consider the idea of shooting in some 3D tournaments this year. The other, and more important, was learned during a day at a proper outdoor range with some greater distances. I knocked my first arrow, drew to my anchor point and let fly. I knocked a second arrow and as this one travelled downrange I noticed one curious thing. It didn't fly even remotely straight. I wasn't even sure how I managed to get them into the same general grouping but they did. Not brilliant but certainly good enough to double lung something. The problem is that I'm not satisfied with just good enough. I want to hit that little x in the middle of the target that I aim at. Every single time.

So the questions began. I don't have all the answers yet but I think I'm on the correct path. I spotted a cool little gadget that uses a laser to centre your string and arrow. It's supposed to eliminate the need for long and complex paper tuning processes. The reviews I've read say that you can do a better job in only a few minutes with this gadget. So far I can't find a source here in Canada and I'm not ready to surrender and call Cabella's. The Toronto Sportsmen's Show starts this week so I'm hopeful that I'll find one there. I really want to check it out.

The next cool thing I found was software. In my case I bought Pinwheel's "Software For Archers". It was all HunterDave's fault from the bulletin board on Ontario Out of Doors website. He is way more technosavvy than I am and he suggested to look into some of these software packages that are available. I grabbed a copy of "Software for Archers" and almost immediately I was overloaded with information and my head exploded. There it was. Splattered all over my computer screen as I tried to cram all of it back into some sort of intelligible mass. Like a newborn child trying to process the world around him I finally had to stop and recollect my thoughts. It was great.

I think the idea of getting software was a good one. My head didn't explode because it was complicated. The problem was that I had never thought about any of this stuff and suddenly I had to think about it all. It's forced me to start thinking about my set up beyond point and shoot. How much does that peep weigh? What do I do with the Fuse String Shox? Is it a weight that slows the string down or does it really speed it up like Hoyt claims? Is it in the correct spot? What about those shafts? Maybe the fletching should be changed. So many questions.

The first thing it told me was that the arrows I was shooting weren't even close. Couldn't see it so much at twenty yards but beyond thirty it really showed up. The moment I pushed the spine tab the program showed me the shafts were far to flexible for what I was shooting. I started to tinker. I could pull up any shaft available and see what I would have to change to make it optimum. Some of the heavily advertised shafts wouldn't shoot properly until I either changed the weight on the front of the shaft or change the fletching. I'm still fiddling with it and look forward to doing some browsing at the Sportsmen's Show. It should be interesting comparing what's available to what the system says will work well.

It has some other cool features I'm fiddling with. One is for making site tapes but I think that's for single pin target sites. I haven't bothered with that. It has some excellent shot simulation features too. Want to know what to hold for when you're 15 feet up with a deer 32 yards from the tree? Want to look at the ballistics of your arrow foot by foot? How about where to hold on 3D targets for varying distances and cross winds? All of this is there. There's a system that you can learn that uses parts of your bow to gage distance. That's there too. All in all I think I would recommend something like this to anyone who ventures out with stick and string. Just keep a rag close in case your head explodes.

I am NINJA!

2010-03-03T21:51:00.001-05:00

I admit that I have visions of myself clinging to a tree like some diabolical movie predator. Never in the same tree. Constantly on the move like a Ninja. It didn't take me very long to realize two things. The first was that I wasn't going to be able to disassemble the platforms I had helped build and move them around. The second was that sitting on the ground next to a tree makes me more of a mushroom than a ninja. Clearly something had to be done.

I knew I needed something portable to change from mushroom to Ninja. I looked at the trophyline tree saddle. It seemed to be totally Ninja. I looked around for one but decided that, since I couldn't seem to find them in Canada yet, a more traditional treestand was in order. I realize this isn't quite as Ninja as the treesaddle might be but sometimes you need to be the grasshopper in training before you walk down the rice paper. That my friends, is where my last bit of certainty ends. It's a bit of a mind numbing process trying to wade through all the options and pick something that is both useful and cost effective. Maybe part of my problem is that I detest paying for something twice and would rather pay more once than less twice. That being said this seems to be a sport where mistakes can be a touch expensive and there are lots of conflicting opinions about everything.

I spent some time wandering around the internet. Oddly, GOOGLE had nothing useful under the title "how to be a Ninja deer hunter". I spent several days marooned at a horse sale in Lexington Kentucky and wandered around the only real hunting store I could find. That would be Dick's. I found 2 or 3 other "hunting" stores but to tell the truth they had more guns and stuff for me to hunt other people than they did to hunt deer. I had a lot of fun wandering around Dick's. I managed to find a safety harness I liked that was well priced and not available in Canada. There was not a lot of treestand love for me though.

I knew a few things that I wanted for sure. Having spent the last few weeks sitting on our homemade stools of hemorrhoid death I wanted something comfortable. While the ancient martial arts practiced by Ninja's may have included the ability to endure tremendous pain and discomfort I decided that it was a skill best left to Shoa Lin monks. Comfort was going to be the working principle of Ninja deer hunters. This dilemma seemed to be best solved by the sling bottom seats with arm rests. In the end it was at a Basspro in Pennsylvania that I found something I liked. They didn't have it but the one in Toronto did. So off to Toronto I went for what I hoped would be my final shopping trip to treestand land. I spent some time with the staff and tried to consider all the variables. I bought a treestand and step combination that was being promoted by Tiffany and Lee Lakosky. I have to admit I didn't buy it because they said to. That fact was just a coincidence. I liked the features and the fact that it came with some little extra's. Not high end stuff but enough to get me through the rest of the season without having to buy limb saws etc.

It was a hard decision to make when you can't test drive them first. Since I don't really have many friends that bowhunt deer I couldn't even go test drive theirs. So I made my best guess. I almost didn't buy it though. I got hung up on the weight of it and the thought of it being strapped to my back. If I recall it would be 55 pounds with the steps strapped to it. That's not a small amount of weight. Especially when you have to add your bow and assorted other things. In the end it was those darn marketing pictures and my male ego that did me in. Have you ever seen the pictures of pretty little Tiffany carrying hers like it weighs nothing? So now….. I AM NINJA (in training)

The perfect rack

2010-02-28T13:12:00.002-05:00

I think we might be making more progress. My wife is getting in the spirit of things. I'm not going to write a long soliloquy today but something just happened that was too funny to pass up. I'm sitting here watching "Dead Down Wind's American Archer." They're discussing the impending deer hunt and what they're looking for in a deer. Alissa walked in as they were commenting on looking for a buck with a symmetrical rack. She smiled and said. I have a symmetrical rack and if I was a buck I'd be two pointer. At which point she produced the proof. My rifle is now loaded and I have to go hunting.

God I love this sport!!

Have a great day.

Footsteps

2010-02-25T22:19:00.001-05:00

Every great adventure usually starts with a small and rather innocuous thought. My grand adventure started the same way. With less than 30 days to get organized, the thought culminated in the hay field next to a world class equestrian facility that I had managed to get permission to hunt on. It's October first and the deer season will officially start with the coming of the dawn.

The world is nothing but sound and smell in the darkness of the rural fields. In the distance was the thump of the horses as they rattled impatiently in their stalls. I could appreciate their eagerness for the day to begin. The wind blows gently from the west. It's a good wind for the tree stand I'm headed to. The world is in muted silence as it holds its breath waiting to burst forth with the sun. I quickly change into my hunting clothes and make a note that standing on the dew soaked ground is NOT comfortable and maybe the next time I come out I should plan to deal with that. I make some final adjustments to my safety harness, strap my fanny pack on and sling my bow over my shoulder. With a certain amount of concern and anxiety about the correctness of my decision I chose a route and head for my tree stand.

The tree stand hasn't been in for very long. This farm has, in memorable history anyway, never been hunted and the other gentleman who is going to hunt the shotgun season showed me how to build it. We did that only a few days in advance. I climbed the overly engineered ladder that was my contribution to the construction portion of the plan. I'm not the world's best carpenter and I didn't want it to break under me as I climbed it. For this reason I made sure there were enough nails in the steps to make a compass swing wildly at 20 feet. I settled onto the little homemade stool we had installed and waited.

The wait for the beginning of your first day of you first hunt is a stressful thing. It's a lonely moment when you are in a tree trying to decide what you might have done wrong or what you need to do next. Was I quiet enough? Did I use enough spray? Will they smell my underwear? Those darn underwear I never know how to make, and keep scent free like the rest of my clothes. Should I have crawled across the hay field? Would it have made me look like a deer instead of someone looking to hurl a pointy stick at them? If I scratch my nose can they see me move in the dark? Are they standing behind my laughing and pointing at the new guy? What if they walk right by me because I fell asleep? It is still early and I haven't been able to have my morning coffee. We aren't hunting Columbian deer so I suspect the smell of a dark roast on my breath would seem a little out of place.

I'm in the tree stand plenty early. I have a little more than an hour before the legal shooting time. In Ontario that is 30 minutes before the official sunrise. I hear nothing significant yet. The forest behind me is quiet. It's predawn slumber is only interrupted by the occasional rustle of the wind through the tree leaves. I can see a faint glow on the horizon as the sun creeps closer. I begin to hear the occasional twitter as the local birds begin to wake up. Their voices gently coaxing the sun closer. As I sit motionless on my stool listening to this, basking in the sublime majesty of my existence, I have one overpowering thought. The stool is too damn hard and my ass is going to fall off before the day is out. Another thing to deal with along with the dew.

Eventually it happens. In the murky light of the early morning I can hear it coming through the bush behind me. This is perfect. It was coming in the manner and direction I had hoped it would. This was going to be awesome. My heart started to race. I froze as I listened to the approaching footfalls in the leaves. I mentally prepared myself. Visualized the deer and the shot in my head so that I wouldn't freeze. I needed to be able to concentrate and focus on where I had to put the arrow. I could taste the venison in my mouth already. I had only been deer hunting a grand total of about an hour and I was going to accomplish something they say only 10% of hunters do every year. I could hear it coming. I slowly started to turn my head so I could prepare for my shot. My eyes searched the gloom for the monster buck that had to be making those footsteps. They paused, moved, and then paused once more. Trying not to move, my eyes probed for the sound. The footsteps moved again and I locked onto the monster. There, staring up at me in an unconcerned fashion was a squirrel. A stinking tree rat. I'm convinced that if he had opposable thumbs he'd have found a shed and rattled at me just to aggravate me even more. Stinking tree rats. Doesn't he know he's edible?

In the end I didn't get my deer that day but was proud of the fact that I saw one. I heard a grunt and turned to see a doe slipping through the trees as a buck followed her 15 or so yards behind. She slowly and daintily picked her way up to me. She paused about 15 yards from me in a perfect spot for a shot. She seemed to know that I didn't have a tag for antlerless deer. The buck never got any closer and was around the back of the very wide tree that I was in. He never gave me a shot. She nibbled some branches and gave me a good look. She might even have winked although I can't be sure. After a few moments she turned and slipped back into the bush. I'm pretty sure she just wanted to let me know that they were there. That I would have to prove myself more worthy than I had so far if I was going to take one of them home. In the end I checked it off in the win column with a caveat. I packed up my gear and headed home. Maybe by the next hunt I'll have found a good squirrel recipe.

MurderTV

2010-02-21T20:18:00.001-05:00

"It's ok honey you can watch MurderTV." With those fateful words I might have finally reached the edge of my wife's tolerance. Recently I ordered Wildtv from Bell Expressview. I did it primarily because I can't seem to gain control of the remote early enough to see "Canadian Tradition" and "Canada in The Rough" on Saturday mornings. I've seen both those shows and enjoy them quite a bit. So, for the last week or so I've been trying to find something to enjoy on the new network I'm watching. It's been a bit of a struggle.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not taking away from the accomplishments these folks are doing in their various shows, but to be honest, I don't want to see a bunch of shows where everyone sits around on a game preserve shooting booners. Some of the footage has been great and amusing but lots has been amateurish at best. What I was hoping for was a bunch of programs that could show me how to do what I'm doing better. So far I've been given very few real tips but I'm always hopeful. I have to give props to Michael Waddel and the crew. Other than Harley Davidson I think the "Bone Collectors" logo is the only other one I've ever seen tattooed on someone's body.

On an up note, my "not as anti as I used to be" wife did come to me and tell me that she's been thinking that harvesting our own food through my hunting makes more sense. She cited the health benefits of the food etc. That's good progress and sitting with me watching "murdertv" she doesn't cheer for the "innocent" deer quite as often as she used to. I have pointed out to her that Hoyt makes the Vixen and two heads are better than one. I think I'm a little premature on that one though. As I read this section out loud her comment was "that's for sure." She has mentioned that she wants to come out and sit in a blind with me to see what it's all about. At least I'll have a legitimate excuse to buy her a cammo thong now.

So it's been great to see people finally reading my blog. Thanks for the comments. It's always appreciated. I'm still wandering the house trying to pretend I'm a turkey in heat. I've discovered you can get away with the loud unsexy calls while vacuuming. I'm not sure if it's because the noise drowns out the sounds of the yelps or because she feels I deserve some latitude for being so domestic. I'm counting down to turkey course day, March 19 at the Toronto Sportsman Show. How great is that? Half the day or so learning how to hunt a turkey and the rest wandering sportsman's paradise. I should probably leave my credit card at home. Argo's are good for yard work aren't they? Hmmm I just found out that my wife is going to be there for work reasons with her service dogs. Argo's can't be seen in cammo can they?

Be Vewy Vewy Quiet…

2010-02-14T21:00:00.001-05:00

Somewhere in my early childhood a member of my family thought it wise to hang a sign on our cottage wall that is full of outdoor wisdom. Not the one in the outhouse that says "All good things come to he who waits as long as he who waits works like hell while he waits." Rather the fishing one that says "Early to bed early to rise. Fish like hell and make up lies." While the first may seem like the most profound the second is most definitely the most important bit of wisdom for hunters and fishermen. My children have started to learn this as they started fishing at a very young age.

Last December I asked my nine year old daughter if she wanted to go rabbit hunting with me. The deer season had yet to produce any significant results and by December I was starting to lose heart. I thought a nice rabbit hunt would be just what I needed. My daughter leapt at the chance. We tracked down a bright yellow rain slicker in the absence of any available hunter orange. We had to roll up the sleeves because even over all her warm winter clothes she absolutely swam in it. With a flourish and quick runway pirouette she was dressed for success.

I thought the best thing to do, to get her truly involved, was to give her a job. Here in Ontario you need to be 12 years old to be mentored in hunting so she was only going to be able to spot rabbits for me. I dug out a small backpack and told her she was in charge of the snacks. Our plan was to head up to the Beverly Swamp. It's 800 acres of government ground that is good for many things not the least of which is rabbits. We were going to start around 10 or 11 in the morning and we had to be home by 3pm. I realize this is not the prime rabbit hunting time but truth be told it was more an excuse to go out with my daughter. This length of time with a 9 year old necessitated some food to keep us going. My thought was a thermos of hot apple cider, maybe a sandwich or two for lunch and a couple of apples. What I got was enough food to keep us alive for about 6 weeks.

We climbed out of the truck, I shouldered my shotgun and with a groan took on the burden of our provisions and led Ainsley into the fringes of the area we would be hunting. I took a few minutes and gave her the instructions and the rules of how she was to behave at all times as well as where she needed to be in relation to me at all times. With a grin we started through the snow and the scrub trees on our quest for rabbit. Off in the distance in other areas of the park we could hear the sound of beagles as others pursued the same quarry. The first few bits of cover didn't produce anything but soon my eagle eyed daughter spotted a rabbit sitting in the snow through the trees. He didn't linger and bolted for cover. I shouldered the shotgun and made a phenomenal kill. The rabbit was fine but I slaughtered the snow right behind him. I decided to leave the body there because I was pretty sure we didn't have any snow recipes at home to cook it properly.

I slowly started to work my way through the trees. The rabbit had run from left to right and vanished over a hill. We soon had to give up the pursuit as we encountered another group of hunters coming through the bush with their dog. We never did find out where it went but they didn't see it either. We moved deeper into the bush on our quest and started to kick brush piles when Ainsley announced it was snack time. That was fine by me. Slugging a thousand pounds of food on your back is always more difficult than dragging it around in your stomach. While I poured the apple cider Ainsley laid out our mini meal. When finished, she presented me with a chocolate bar for dessert. Apparently we had a lot of candy and chocolate bars for the day. I didn't mind the idea but little did I know that it would be the stick with which she beat me.

We saw lots of evidence on the snow that rabbits lived in the area. We followed more unproductive rabbit trails than I care to count. It wasn't long before her natural competitiveness started to rear it's ugly head. Everything became a bet. Who would see the next rabbit. How many rabbits we would see before I would actually shoot one. By the time our next, hobbit like, second breakfast (or was it lunch?) ended we still hadn't seen any other rabbits. The occasional shotgun blast off in the distance told us they were still around but our efforts weren't getting us very far. She changed tactics and now tried to motivate me with such missives as "no more chocolate for you until you get us a rabbit Dad." It took quite a while for me to negotiate this particular rule into obscurity. I wasn't back on the chocolate list until after she stopped us for our 4^th or maybe it was 5^th snack.

We never did find another rabbit. After hours of looking, our time started to draw quite short. I think it really was more of a picnic interrupted by the occasional walk. We had a great time though. Ainsley's enthusiasm held up brilliantly as we searched every brush pile we passed. I think she particularly liked her time with the beagle. We met some other hunters as we got close to the parking area. They had more success with a half dozen rabbits hanging from their belts. Ainsley boldly asked them how they got them to hang upside-down off their belt. The owners of the rabbits took a moment and showed her the trick they used and then offered to share their catch with her. Triumphantly she carried the rabbit back to our truck and as we pulled out of the parking lot she looked at me and uttered these profound words. "So what now dad? Hunt like crazy and make up lies?" I smiled and thought of the sign at the cottage. She's so wise at such a young age.

Turkey Love

2010-02-10T20:01:00.002-05:00

Today pigs flew and hell froze over. Ok maybe not quite that dramatic but in the realm of turkey hunters I'm pretty sure this was an equally momentous moment. Driving down the road running errands this afternoon Alissa turned to me, smiled, and uttered the following phrase. "I kind of miss the turkey calls. You haven't clucked at me for a bit."

I know this is momentous because I clearly heard the expert warning in the HS Strut training video. "Wives hate turkey calls." I didn't buy the HS Strut calls because they are better or worse than any others, I've never used a turkey call so I haven't the faintest idea, but because it had an informative dvd. I wanted it so that it could give me such important nuggets as "wives hate turkey calls". Diligently following their advice I popped the call in my mouth and squeaked and squawked from Toledo Basspro, where I bought them, to Jerseyville. You'll be happy to know I resisted the temptation to answer the Customs Officials question of "do you have anything to declare" with a loud yelp.

I think I've made good progress. I had the yelp perfected by the time I came home. I could be wrong and I suppose I'll know come turkey calling time but I think I sound pretty convincing. I'll tell you the secret to getting your wife to like turkey calls as well. It's actually quite simple. All women respond to the language of love. You just need to know how to go about it. The first thing I discovered is that a wife that "gobbles" when you call is not the result you want and they respond only as part of a much larger calling ritual. Putts, purrs and soft clucks are the calls of choice to lure these hens in. A small yelp as you enter the room might be a good way to get them to stop what they are doing and pay attention to you but they find it a far more aggressive call than normal wild turkeys do and not part of the mating ritual at all. A second loud yelp would likely get a convenient blunt object thrown at you in a territorial display of dominance but the initial yelp is a useful attention getter.

Immediately switch to some soft clucks and purrs. Crouch a little in a turkey strut sort of fashion and start to cluck and purr softly. Maybe bob your head back and forth a bit as you circle her suggestively. Try laying your head seductively on her shoulder and give a small cluck as you gently kiss her neck just behind her earlobe. Cluck, purr and keep nuzzling until you get the response you are looking for. CAUTION, if you've been watching the youtube videos of big toms being called into turkey decoys it should be noted that while the wife hens can be seduced in similar fashion by clucking and acting a little like a tom DO NOT ATTEMPT TO MOUNT IN THE KITCHEN!!!. Seems they don't always think that's such a good idea and it traumatizes the kids.

So as you can guess turkey season is coming. I'm working hard to try and figure out how to sound like a turkey in heat. Thank goodness for long trips in the truck and an understanding family. I'm scheduled to take the turkey course at this spring's Sportsmen's show in Toronto. They tell me that I'll get a lot of information on turkey tactics from this because I'm at a loss. I have a blind ready to go and I know I have to wear black inside it. I'm at the range several times a week practicing with the bow because my current thoughts are that the hot set up is going to be a head shot with a gobbler guillotine or something similar. Right now I'm sighted in using 100 grain field points which means I either need to change points and start the sighting process again or use the smaller cutting surface of the 100 grain heads. I worry I'm not quite that good yet. Whatever happens one thing I know for sure. I might not get a wild tom out in the fields and forest this year but I seem to do pretty well calling a hen in the kitchen.

My hunt horses

2010-02-05T12:32:00.003-05:00

I'm going to divert today slightly. One form of hunting I have done for many years is foxhunting. In Canada that really means more coyote than fox. use foxhounds to hunt them and follow the hounds with horses. We don't catch as many as we might with a gun but the real thrill is watching how a pack of hounds work together to follow the scent and to stay with them on a good horse. Of course the good horse is key and make or break your day. I have a youngster who is getting started and here is a story I wrote about him a little while ago.

Bees! I can hear the gentle hum of their wings as they move from flower to flower amongst the clover. It’s subtle and almost unnoticeable under the steady thrumming of the cicada’s. I would have missed it completely if I hadn’t been laying in the long pasture grass this warm summer day. I wiggle my fingers on both hands. It’s a beautiful day for sure. The warm rays of the sun, high in the sky, buss my skin as the cool grasses press against my back. It sounds like the classic, idyllic scene that can only happen on a horse farm. This farm is perfect for it. Built as a high end broodmare facility it has rolling land and massive pastures full of lush grass. A beautiful pond with ducks and geese round it out. It’s beautiful. Even from this angle. I wiggle my toes to make sure they work as well as my fingers do.
I pause briefly to consider how I came to be here. Two distinct thoughts ran quickly through my head. The first of these thoughts is certainly a “Big picture” sort of moment. One of those, “whose fault is it anyway” thoughts. I start counting the bones in all my major limbs. I suppose I have to blame my mother. The daughter of a dairy farmer, she grew up with horses. Not working horses. My grandfather, having been raised with them, replaced them gladly with modern tractors when he took over from his father. She did, however, have a horse lovingly named Flikka”. It was named by a young girl who thankfully dodged monikers like Thunder and Flash and forgave it it’s sins as so many of us do when we are young. This love of horses she passed on to me. She married a “townie” who was allergic to all things furry so we could never have any at home when I was young.
I don’t remember a lot about the early stages of my life. The farther you get from 3 or 4 the less that remains. I do have one vague memory of my first meeting with a horse. It was massive. Made all the more huge by the fact that I had to be under the age of 5. I thought it was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. Absolutely! Like some shiny beacon rising up out of the field that could be ridden. Like that man is doing. Look mom! You can ride them! They’re great! They’re getting closer! They aren’t moving but still getting closer! Wait a second! Mom! What are you doing? It’s a beacon! Beacon’s are designed for distance! Put me down! DON’T LET IT EAT ME!!!
If the first time a man meets a horse he is going to be intimidated, and therefore emasculated, it is best done as a toddler. It seems to be more survivable. I don’t really remember when I saw my next horse but, unlike many husbands and boyfriends I’ve seen over the years who disappear from the barn not willing to admit they’re scared witless, I seemed to find these large furry money sinks all the more fascinating.
Maybe I would have escaped with my wallet and manure free social life intact had my grandfather stuck to his life long disinterest of all things equine. I’m not sure what possessed him to bid twenty five dollars on a pony at a farm auction. Everyone there knew who he was and that he no longer had a farm. I’m sure they all had a great chuckle as they watched him bedding his garage in the village in preparation for its arrival. My personal opinion was that it was better than any car or lawn tractor I had ever seen him store in there. I was hooked. Like lots of young crazy horse lovers I even forgave him when he bucked me off into the concrete wall. What did I know? I was a town kid. Nobody said you needed to break these things. Can’t you ride them from birth? Aren’t they built that way?
At this moment the second thought ran through my head. It was a little more immediate. I have to admit it wasn’t idyllic or even nostalgic. I picked myself up out of the grass. Looked over at my four year old thoroughbred and considered that I may have found the reason they didn’t train him long enough to even tattoo him. He was standing quietly munching grass a few feet away. The reigns had settle behind his ears in the last place I had seen them as we parted company in, what was clearly, an unscheduled dismount. I made a mental note of the dirt patch I noticed on his bridle path as I passed over it and thought boot camp! I think that might be it. He needs Boot camp. Thankfully there aren’t any concrete walls this time.

Critical Equipment

2010-02-03T09:02:00.008-05:00

The harsh staccato of the alarm blaring in the dark is an unwelcome sound no matter what your plans are for the day. This I have decided. I groggily roll out of bed hours before dawn. Beside me my wife rolls over wakes up for her morning kiss, to wish me well, ask what farm I'll be at if something goes wrong and to ask me to ping her on her blackberry when I'm safely on the ground. I stagger bleary eyed down toward the shower for my morning pre-hunt ritual.

I thoroughly cleanse myself with the special soap that is designed to make me smell dirty. A peculiarity reserved for hunters I think. Nothing more exciting than the tangy autumn smells of Eau De Dirt. I towel off with a brief stressful moment. Is fact that my towel wasn't washed in the special hunting Eau De Dirt laundry soap ruining my scent masking efforts? Then it's the anxiety of my underwear. We've already discussed that particular concern so I won't dwell on it here. Into the garage I go. Toss my gear into the back of the truck and I am away.

I've spent a great deal of time revamping my hunting equipment this year. I've read countless comparison reports on which bow is best, which blind is best, which arrow is best. I've read about scent control, cover scents, scent reducing clothes and what not to have for breakfast because it's too stinky. While I still have far more to learn than I can possibly even begin to imagine, the one thing I know for absolute certainty is that there is one thing every person needs to be successful in this endeavour. No matter what it is you hunt or how you hunt it, this critical piece is absolutely invaluable. I have the good fortune of having stumbled over it so I'm well set. This, my friends, is absolutely, unequivocally the most important part of your hunting set up you could have. A co-operative and supportive spouse.

Alissa has been great. When I dropped my deer this year she was the first person who got my text message and the one who cheered the loudest. Even though the idea of me going out and killing something was somewhat problematic for her she understood that it was something that was a part of me and didn't want to interfere with that. I certainly put that to the test this year. In my drive to get my first deer I hunted like a retired person. I missed the kids horseback riding lessons, left her to get them ready for school while I went to the bush and the odd social engagement. I would come home after being away working for a few days and sometimes hunt like I hadn't been away from my family. To top it all off, and I know some of you guys will be jealous by this, if I hadn't been able to get out for a bit she would make an extra effort to make sure I had a couple of days free of children and other responsibility and then order me out to the bush.

As the temperature dropped and I went in search of more and better underwear she helped and was always quick to point out things that had scent reduction technology. For Christmas I got a laser range finder and a big ol' Basspro gift certificate. She decided she couldn't bring herself to buy the instruments of death I wanted but that's ok. In the end the pop up blind I chose with my gift certificate was a more useful thing than the broadheads I asked her for. I can get them next year and my old thunderheads seem to work fine.

We had made a deal. When the season started and we were trying to adjust to the change in my obsessions I appealed to her more frugal nature. Pointed out that if I could get enough deer and other game every year that we could stop buying meat at the grocery store. Think of all the money we would save and how much healthier the meat would be for her. She stopped buying meat. She had more faith in me than I did. I did eventually get one but not before she had to go back to the grocery store. It's ok honey. I'll do better next year. Oh! Ummm...and turkey is only a few months away.

Questions and More Questions

2010-02-01T10:05:00.001-05:00

What do I do with my underwear? No! Seriously! Why can't I seem to find an answer? I suppose to an old hand it would be an easy question. I'm not, as you recall, an old hand. I don't have an "old hand" in the family anymore. So who do I ask and why isn't it part of every "here's what you do" manual?

This was to be the year of the deer. Back in July I decided, rather unceremoniously, that I would not only start hunting again this year but to start with deer and my bow. I had only tried deer a couple of times in my youth and never got to see one let alone make a shot. So I wandered down to my local Canadian Tire, bought my bow tag for deer, grumbled somewhat that I had missed the antlerless draw date and then headed home to try and find my bow and assorted bits and pieces. Being the precise and modern day keener that I am, I immediately began to spend hours with that all knowing tome, the internet. The land of never ending conflicting answers.

So scent control became the big thing for me. I soon realised that, according to the internet, I needed to smell like dirt. No, an apple or rather some cedar, although maybe pine was better. I had to get scentlock or maybe it was scent blocker although it could have been that I was simply supposed to drown my clothes in rancid deer urine. What i did know was that after they came out of the scent free washing machine (unless you did it by hand, on a rock, in the sun out back, which is better according to some) that it had to go into some sort of scent proof bag. I did this faithfully. I guarded those bags like they were the most holy of sacraments from some new religion. I had a system down and had nothing but confidence that it might, according to the internet, be the correct plan of action out of numerous correct but sometimes conflicting ones. The one question I couldn't figure out was what to do with my underwear? Was I supposed to head for the hunt naked? Opting not to test the patience of my neighbours or the local constabulary I decided to keep the underwear out of the bag and risk contaminating myself by wearing an outer layer of less than perfectly de-scented clothes.

This system worked ok when hunt season started. Arriving in the darkened hours of the early morning I would quickly strip down to my underwear, retrieve all my carefully prepared hunt clothes from their bag, dress and be off. It worked perfectly until that faitful day when the mercury dipped below freezing to a balmy -5 C. Suddenly i needed not only more layers of underwear but i needed them long before i could have survived retrieving them from the bag in the dark. So I tried washing them like the rest of my clothes but giving them their own bag until finishing my shower on hunt mornings. A little risky I suppose. I have two dogs in the house that seem to ignore me until I'm in scent control mode and then they want to cuddle. Yet, I still don't know what to do? Is it over kill? Underkill? What do I do about my underwear? And why can't the internet tell me? Mike Waddell where are you? Why haven't the Bone Collectors done an underwear segment? Tom Pigeon? Taylor Wright? Anyone?

I have to admit my attempts to get help offline didn't go so well. I spoke to a couple of guys who pretty much dismissed the whole notion of scent control. Not the best timing when one of them did it in front of my wife. I got that raised eyebrow look. You know the one. That look that tells you she's just confirmed that you've lost your mind and have been putting her and the kids through misery with your insane rantings about odour for the few weeks. The one that leaves you scrambling to justify all that money you spent on fancy scent control stuff. I'm pretty sure she missed the part where he was smoking a cigar. What better cover scent could there be than a smoldering Cuban?

Turkey season is coming and that is going to be my next project. Maybe moose next year as well. So my journey continues. I keep working to rapidly expand my knowledge base. I try to practice at the range faithfully with my bow. My deer hunting clothes are in scent proof storage and surprisingly I'm still worried about my underwear.

So it begins...sort of.

2010-01-28T15:40:00.001-05:00

I can't begin to count the number times I've read the phrase "and the blood pounded in his ears". Almost every piece of adventure fiction seems to have it somewhere. It's a great line that evokes a strong image in your mind. For many years I thought it was little more than the poetic license often used by good authors. That changed the day it happened to me. That moment when I said to myself. "Wow! I can hear the blood pounding in my ears. Come to think of it I think my heart is going to break my rib cage it's pounding so hard. I can't believe that deer can't hear it."

I should probably pause in my story and tell you why we're here. I decided to start this blog to chronicle my new adventure. To be truthful I would have to say it's a bit of a renewal with a lot of expansion. Many, many years ago I studied and passed my hunter safety course here in Ontario. My father used to hunt but he stopped before I was born and my one grandfather who hunted died in 1975. I had no one left in the family to mentor me so I plugged along on my own. Primarily I hunted ducks with my grandfather's old shotgun and a wonderful Labrador Retriever I named Jigger and trained myself. I tried deer hunting once or twice with a bow I bought but never had much in the way of success. I did manage to actually see a deer once. He was a speck off in the distance. Not very useful for what I had in mind. Life moved on. I finished University and hunting fell by the wayside as other priorities and an unsympathetic wife interfered.

Now I find myself in an entirely new situation. A middle aged man on the road working a fair amount. I've decided my mid-life crisis is going to involve two things. One is to get back into some semblance of physical conditioning and the other was to start hunting again. It has been a bit of a task getting started as all of my old stuff is, well, old. My knowledge was virtually non existent and my time available, like so many of us, was sporadic. I always had a dream to wander off into the bush with a gun and my wits and see if i can live off the land. With small children that probably won't happen any time soon but in the meantime I want to master the skills I would need. And this is going to be the chronicle of that journey.

This particular deer hunt tale ends moments after I heard the sound of my beating heart echoing inside my chest. It was, finally, favourable as my new bow propelled a broadhead tipped arrow towards it's intended target. I can't say that the tail was an easy one or that I was even certain of success. I had only 2 days left of a bow season that was fraught with uncertainty and frustration. That, however will be a tale for another day. So welcome to my blog. I hope you enjoy it.