Done in one shot.

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

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

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.

 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.

I’m doing this for WHAT reason??

    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

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

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

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??

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

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.

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

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

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

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.