Wow, this has been a deer season to remember. The ride started with opening weekend of the first gun season in SE MN. Two buddies joined me on the family farm. Intel told us the bucks were chasing, and the drive down from the cities confirmed that the deer were active. Almost every field along the roads south held deer well before dusk.
My uncle informed me that two regulars would be sharing the farm with my two buddies and me along with possibly another man and his son. This was typical and there is usually enough space for all so we weren’t discouraged with the prospect of company. We actually had a game plan to avoid some of the competition.
The prime spot of the farm is eighty acres with three tall ridges accessed by a steep half mile logging road. We prefer walking up the road to the top and then fanning out across the three ridges and into the adjacent ravines. We parked two trucks at the bottom of the road with the intent of letting others know we were hunting up there and to block the road. If someone was going to join us, they would at least have to work to get up to the top like we did.
I was settled into a favorite spot of mine and hour before legal shooting time. The woods were just coming alive about ten minutes before legal shooting time when I hear a truck coming up the dug road. WTF? As it gets closer I flip on my head lamp and shine it at the truck so hopefully they see me. They end up parking about 100 yards behind me and one of the guys proceeds to set up shop 150 yards across and up from me on the same ravine I am sitting in. My opening day excitement immediately drops. I decide to stay put knowing that I am still closer to a good bedding area than the other guy. In years past I have witnessed incredible chasing from this spot and I hope the rut crazy bucks were too distrubed by the truck that drove right by.
Long story short I saw one little six point but no legal deer all morning until I heard a truck door slam behind me. Literally seconds after I heard the door slam a doe and two fawns came tearing down into the ravine and stopped ten feet from me panting. I raised my gun on the doe, but held off. The fawns still had spots and they were so close I could see how cute their big brown eyes looked. Opening morning, I will get another shot at a doe… Little did I know, that was the last doe I had in range all season.
Normally, I sit all day but when I saw my buddies walking by a little while later, I deciding to join them for a quick break. On of the guys set up shop on top of one of them that morning as well. He saw the same six pointer that I did, but nothing else. My other buddy had a few deer in his field before light but they vanished before shooting time when they heard the truck driving up the hill. It was only opening morning, but things weren’t starting well. On the walk down, we saw that the two guys and driven around our trucks through brush and good sized rocks. They were determined not to walk far.
At the house, I learned from my aunt that her and my mom’s brother had died away from a massive stroke. A bad day just got a lot worse. My uncle Larry lived in Florida and had been battling various health problems for years. However, he was just in Minnesota for a couple weeks in September for my wedding and his health was the best it had been for years. His stroke was a shock to all of us. The funeral was to be held on Friday so I had to fly to Florida on Thursday. Between work and the funeral, my gun season was cut short to 2 and a half days.
With a heavy heart, I headed across the road to a different ridge with one of my buddies. I hunted the top of the ridge, while my buddy set up on the field edge at the bottom. Up top, I met a knew friend. A fat spike buck walked up and took a nap 10 yards from my stand. He left and came back 5 times that afternoon. I named him Larry, in rememberance of my uncle. I saw Larry three times from the stand the next day and my buddy saw him when I was sitting elsewhere.
While we were sitting across the road, my buddy Jim was back up on the hill we hunted that morning. The two guys and the truck were still there when he got to the top. Just as he got up to the top, two more trucks pulled up and nine guys got out. The “guy and his son” that my uncle gave permission to hunt turned into nine guys. They planned on doing drives along the ravines. Thankfully my buddy was there to talk them out of that, but they stuck around and just stood on the various field edges on the three ridges. That meant there was 12 guys on the 80 acres that afternoon/evening. No one saw a deer.
Meanwhile, Josh and I had a little better luck. I was entertained by Larry throughout the afternoon. Around dusk, deer poured into the field. Josh counted at least half a dozen does and one good buck in the field. He was after a buck on opening day but the buck never came in range.
Days 2 and 3 were pretty uneventful. We had no more run ins with the competition, but the deer seemed pretty shell shocked from all of the activity. I had no more deer in range besides Larry the spike buck. Josh did see the mystery buck that appeared in the distance two more times, included once at 30 yards about ten minutes after it was too dark to shoot.
We ended our three days with no deer. This was a first for us, and a very humbling experience. I went to Florida and forgot about deer hunting for a few days. However, as soon as I got back north to Minnesota, the bug hit me again. I started thinking about muzzleloading.
Before muzzleloader season came around, I was invited to Wisconsin for their opener. This was my first out of state hunt I was pumped. Surly my luck had to change. We hunted for two days with out seeing a single deer and the temps were hitting 60 degrees. It was a fun weekend with good friends highlighted by chickadees landing on my head and up close grey fox sightings but uneventful in the deer department. I headed back to work in my worst deer slump of my life. My freezer was empty, my trigger finger was itchy, and I was nervous my might break my own no small bucks rule.
Fast forward to muzzleloader opening day. A big front had swept through, temps were 15 degrees and it felt great to be in the woods yet again. Despite my excitement, I had a pit in my stomach about news I heard from my mom. Her sister had called while making Thanksgiving plans and mentioned that they saw a bunch of headlights and heard gunshots on top of the ridge at 9 P.M. on Thanksgiving ease. That logging road provides easy access to isolated fields and we have had poaching problems in the past. My real hope for success was the evening hunt across the road and my mission that morning was to check out the activities of the poachers. My worst fears were confirmed. Truck tracks through the alfalfa, empty beer cans, and a headless buck! F@$^%ng poachers should rot in jail.
I was at an all time deer hunting low. I vented my frustration to my wife and she simply said to me, “I love you, and you will shoot a deer today.” I was skeptical, but heading across the road to “Larry’s ridge” at noon. I wasn’t as sure as Amelia about shooting a deer, but I figured a Larry sighting would cheer me up.
A couple hours passed and no Larry, no anything. Then the clouds came in, and the wind got colder. I was shivering and reading a book, convinced I wouldn’t see a thing. This farm was done for the year. Then the woods started coming alive. A flock of turkeys fed past me and the noisy squirrels had me looking up from my book every half page.
At about 2:30 I looked up and 10 yards in front of me stood Great White. This was a buck with brilliant white main beams we had seen for years sneaking through the woods on top of the ridge where Larry the spike buck lived. I had seen him a hand full of times as had my hunting buddies, and my aunt and uncle. The first time I finally saw him up close was last year, during a snow storm in the muzzleloader season. Great White jumped up five feet from me in a cloud of snow and tines and in two bounds he was over the hill and out of sight.
Now I had him at ten yards looking at me. I had my book in my hands and my muzzleloader in my lap. Thankfully he took a step and had his head behind a tree. I set the book down, cocked the hammer, aimed and fired without thinking. It happened so fast I wasn’t nervous until he ran out of site down the hill.
Then I started shaking. Did I miss him? No way could I miss him? I lowered my gun down the tree because I was shaking too much to try to reload it. I finally calmed down enough to climb down. I loaded my gun and walked to where he was standing. No blood, no hair, nothing but tracks. I saw where he ran so I started following the trail. At about 50 yards I found blood, and lots of it. Halfway down the hill I spot him piled up at the bottom! I skipped, slid, fell down the hill to him laying against a tree. I couldn’t believe I got Great White! My wife was right, as they always are. I said my thanks and drug him 10 yards out into the field. I walked back and grabbed my truck and camera. Unfortunately, my camera battery was dead and I had no charger. So the only pictures I have are crappy cell phone pictures.
What a roller coaster of a season! He is a main frame 10 with split G2s and monster brow tines. The taxidermist estimated him to be at least 5, probably 6 years old. He appears to be going down hill.
Pic 1 Great White!
Pic 2 Larry the spike sleeping under a cedar
Pic 3 Poachers!!!!
Pic 4 As I found him
Pic 5-7 Great White!
