Deer season ends today

It is always a sad occurrence to put it to bed for another year, but like the promise of spring that is budding in the woods, a new season is coming. I must stop chasing deer for a while, yet I know there is still another big mossy- horned buck out there. Saturday, I found several buck rubs. Had to be a big ol' boy; these trees he rubbed were big as my leg. If he can survive poachers, car traffic, and old age, and doesn't get love- crazy and leave the country, he will really be a whopper next year. It's time to start getting my gear ready, target practicing, and scouting the deer haunts for the next season.

Woods Violet

These were just peeking out and beginning to bloom. Maybe spring is coming early... or maybe a lot of green stuff is gonna get frost- damaged. Anyway, I've noticed the woods progressively greening. Early spring is a great time for Louisiana outdoors. That early flush of green comes in such contrast to the drab, dreary colors of winter. Critters are active at this time, and the absence of undergrowth lets one see a long distance. Usually there are many birds; hopefully they are just a little late this year. Temperatures have been unusually warm... shirtsleeve weather in the afternoons. I haven't seen any snakes, and the biting bugs are sparse (but not absent). I need to get out for some tent- camping!

First trillium if the year

I am always thrilled to see the trillium come up. They are early risers and are some of the first hints of the coming spring. This year, they seem to be unusually early, but there are also some bushes and grasses leafing out. Maybe we are not going to have a winter... Strike that notion! I just heard the weatherman say winter is coming back tomorrow.

I could've gone this morning

The weatherman kept promising rain, so I didn't try to hunt. Well, it was still gun season anyway... Next weekend is messed up already, too, but I'll try to get out Saturday. Maybe I can sneak off monday afternoon; bowhunt season runs through January 31. This weekend wasn't a loss; I've been looking at paddling websites (bayoutrails.org and that of the Bayou Haystackers). I got a tip about the Louisiana SONRIS map site; been studying it for potential campsites in the Atchafalaya Basin.

Buck Fever

I finally got back to the woods near noon on Sunday. I heard of a large spike and an 8- point taken; heard tales of a 12- point and does that were travelling in herds. I found a fresh rub near my old beech- tree campsite. He was still working this area! I never could satisfy myself with a setup there, so I moved over to the fallen tree which I pictured in a previous post. I heard him about sunset, charging through the dry leaves in the creek bottom; must have come from across Panther Creek. Had to be a buck; he would go charging along for a short sprint, them stop for a long wait. I believe a doe would have just ambled along, pausing occasionally to browse, but making steady progress. Oh, boy, I get nervous when I hear one but can't see him! His progress was loud in the dry leaves, so I could easily keep track of him. When I heard him charge across near my first stand (the one I didn't like), I grunted at him and he stopped in the hollow beyond. I waited, listening for some movement. Oh, boy! Now I couldn't see him and couldn't hear him, either, and he was close! The wind was still in my favor, but daylight was fading fast. I'm pretty cool when a buck hops into view. I know what has to be done and just fall into a well- rehersed routine. But this cat- and- mouse situation makes me crazy. My adrenaline was surging and my heart was pumping so, that I feared he could hear it banging against my chest wall. Finally, I heard footfalls in the leaves, not far away, but behind that fallen treetop; might just be a bird or chipmunk. No, a distinct crunching of leaves! He was out there, but light was failing, I couldn't see my sights. I was about to explode, and thus it ended for the day. But what a rush! That's what has kept me coming back all these years. It's a hard fall and a letdown to quit when you're that close and that pumped- up, but you can bet I'lll be looking for him again.

Fanciest batch of GORP I ever saw...

I just made up a quick batch of trail mix; had grabbed ingredients a few days ago. It is something to behold! The nuts are mixed, with lots of almonds and cashews; the M & M's have lots of blue ones; and the Goldfish crackers are a bunch of colors. I guess the raisins are normal enough to tone it down some. I may have to start eating it now!

New Year's Lagniappe

Wednesday was lagniappe, Cajun for "that something extra". I took my New Year's holiday time and went hunting. Although I saw no deer, the weather was pleasant. There were plenty of squirrels and chipmunks and several flights of geese. I saw a flock of turkeys, too. I never can find those guys in the spring, when they are legal to hunt. I wonder if food supply or terrain may cause them to range elsewhere at that time of year.

Continuing the Chase

Friday night was clear and still, with lots of stars, and it was c- c- c- cold Saturday morning. When I finally got up enough courage to crawl out of the covers, I went to Creek Cottage. There was a freshly worked scrape at the end of the field, and a line of fresh scrapes through Creek Cottage. I set up where those logging trails criss- cross and spent the morning. It warmed up quickly and the squirrels and chipmunks scurried around, but I saw no deer. In the afternoon, I hunted out toward the front amid those cross- trails, but still no deer. I have been noticing there aren't many birds; seems it should be late enough for us to be getting robins and woodcock and all the little early- spring visitors. Sunday morning, I hunted along the pipeline trail. Something grunted at me, "unh- ahhh" as I neared the old beech tree where I always liked to camp. I kept slipping forward, and heard it again on the hillside across Panther Creek, so I guess he challenged me and moved on away. There were a few rubs in the area and some scrapes scattered along the pipeline. I want to take a stand here soon; might be that nice buck I saw last week. Back near the end of the place, I thought I heard a "tending click" and I hid for a long time, but I never saw any movement.

Saw a fine buck there last week

I was off Friday, so I camped Thursday night and had a three- day New Year's weekend to hunt. Scouting Friday morning, I took stands at several places. I saw no deer, but located this likely- looking spot. There are several cross- trails coming up from the creek bottom and this low, broad ridge separates two deep hollows. Trails lead out of those hollows, left and right from here. The main trail follows an abandoned pipeline right- of- way across this view, and there are several deer rubs scaattered along it. When I ambled back here Friday afternoon, the breeze was from the left, so I found a spot to set up on the downhill side. Just at sunset, I saw movement, and a deer came bobbing and looking down the trail. I suspect she saw me from a distance, as she appproached so warily. She stood and studied me for a long time, but couldn't identify me and the wind continued to cooperate. Eventually, she decided she didn't like the situation, and stepped quickly away. I had been studying her, too. I kept trying to put spike horns on her, as gun season was in progress and it was bucks- only. No sooner had she shied away, than the buck came trailing her; he was obviously love- sick. Every few steps, he would utter a soft R- R- R- R- P, like dragging a thumbnail down the teeth of a comb, probably what they refer to as a "tending" click or grunt. It was too fast and too open; I didn't have an opportunity to get my bow up. I suspect the doe must have alerted him somehow; he stopped with me in sight and loitered around. He was close! Less than ten yards. A fair sized buck, his neck was thick, and his coat was unkempt. He was about an eight- point, judging from the size of the rack, but I was too busy to be counting. He was acting very casual. He lowered his head scenting the ground, he wagged his tail, he stepped over and nibbled leaves above him. He turned his rump to me and reached around to lick a spot on his back. During all of these antics, he never diverted his attention from me; those ears kept swiveling with every move, always directed toward me. He was toying with me, watching me while pretending not to. I kept still, hoping he would step behind something or turn his head and allow me to draw. When he moved, it was up the hill and behind this fallen tree, and I never got a chance to shoot. He screwed up, letting me get so close, but his size attests that he makes very few mistakes. On my next visits, the wind favored this uphill position, and the fallen tree served well as a natural blind. I hunted the trail the next morning and afternoon, but he didn't pass again.

Bowhunting on Hickory Ridge

Paused on a finger of Hickory ridge, looking across the valley of Creek Cottage.