Grouse
Hollow Journal for November 8, 2012 by Greg Koelker
If
you haven't been for a drive in the country (or maybe even in town),
you maybe haven't seen the dead deer along the road. It is that time
and they are running, literally for the next generation. I have been
seeing deer from the driver's seat and from a tree stand, but I
haven't killed one – either way as of yet. Still, I have a hunting
story or two to share.
Last
Friday night Ellen and I helped Eli Jackson get his nine pointer out
of the woods. After a couple hours of shivering in the wind, I was
on my way in from my stand with a hot supper and something over ice
on my mind when I met Eli by his truck; he was just standing there.
I stopped and then I could tell he had something to say. Actually,
he was still shaking just a bit I think. He had a sheepish grin on
his face and then quietly asked, “You want to help get one out
tonight?” He told me how he had arrowed a nice buck near the Oak
Stand and that he was pretty sure he heard it go down almost an hour
and a half before. I went home and changed into jeans and hiking
boots, and grabbed a light. El got me her new headlamp and a wad of
rag strips for use as blood markers - should we need them. She said,
“Too many feet can obliterate a blood trail,” and she decided to
wait in reserve as our young friend Pat Colby and Mike, his buddy,
were up on the ridge too.
Back
at the truck, the boys were packing up there bows. Without fanfare we
drove to the scene of the crime and started down the hill on the
blood trail with Eli in the lead. He said he had found part of his
arrow broken off and left it as a marker. He uses Illuminocks that
light up when the arrow is fired, so he could see it glowing along
the blood trail. I trailed the younger guys down through the downed
trees and prickly ash, holding up Ellen's multi-lantern high for
light and trying not to trip. There was a good blood trail and it
took less than ten minutes to find the buck lying head down the steep
hillside, “There he is,” I heard Eli say with little of the
emotion I know he was feeling. The buck was a nice fat 8-pointer
with high tines - a 9th tine was broken off. After hand
shakes and pictures, Pat and I each held a back leg while Eli field
dressed the critter. Mike took pictures and kept the head up hill.
I called Ellen and she brought the fourwheeler up a logging road that
was downhill from us maybe 50 yards. I scrambled down to meet her
and light the way for the boys. I also called Sikoras to see if
Gregg and Jake wanted to come over and see the deer. Gregg was
working, but sixth grader Jake walked over.
Back
at the ranch, we washed the buck out at the hydrant and hung it up
with the rope hoist in the shop; Pat held a light while Eli cut the
tenderloins out. Eli and Ellen cleaned them up in the kitchen while
Jake and I drove Pat and Mike in Ellen's Explorer back up to get the
trucks left on the ridge. We shined at least a half-a-dozen deer on
our way, including three in the field right by Jake's house.
When
Jake and I walked into the kitchen, Ellen -she is way too good to us-
had set out the grilled pizzas that had been on the menu for our
supper – before all heck broke loose, so to speak – and she had
some venison tenderloin medallions frying on the stove with mushrooms
and onions and peppers. If that wasn't enough, she had baked
raspberry/chocolate chip cookies that afternoon. The guys and I
munched pizza and sipped celebratory libations to the hunt and
hunter, before turning to plates of fried venison. They had all seen
deer that night. Eli said that a doe and a much bigger buck walked
by him just after he had shot his buck, and Mike said he figured he
saw over a dozen deer. Pat saw one, but I got a rock, as Charlie
Brown would say.
Before
I drove Jake home, he said would have been in bed by then as he was
going duck hunting with his dad in the morning. I said he was going
to be pretty tired in the morning. He replied, “It's a small price
to pay,” (to see the buck, hear the stories, and have a plate of
venison!) I couldn't agree more, Jake.
The
stories are what will be left when the meat is all consumed and the
trophy nailed to the wall. The stories endure. Here is another
story from a friend, Jeff Fischer of Middleton. He wrote me this
last week and I thought I'd share it:
“42
years in the making! A lot of hard work and I am finally blessed with
an opportunity to harvest a beautiful buck. Hundreds of hours in the
stand, checking cameras, changing memory cards and batteries,
scouting, letting the areas sit until the perfect wind, etc. Only to
rush out after work last night after a meeting to sit for one hour
and have this 4 year old walk straight to me down wind for a chance
to harvest him.... Go figure! Just when you think you have these
beautiful creatures figured out, they put you back in check and do
something you thought they would never do (make himself vulnerable).
I rattled and grunted him in after seeing him earlier in the night.
He circled around 100 yards south of me and came straight at me from
downwind, with my scent right at him. I guess a male, is a male, is a
male, not thinking straight when thinking about females. Shot him at
30 yards, quartering away from me - just the whole time line of how
it came together, such an awesome and blessed feeling. Lot's of pride
to know my efforts and patience, along with proper scent control,
etc. do actually work. He is no state record but a trophy by far for
me. He rough scored mid 140's, 10 pointer, 4 year old. What a great
day. I have him on camera, full velvet in August and no pictures
since. Good luck in the tree and most importantly... be safe and take
it all in with full enjoyment. We are only here for a very short
period of time. What a blessing we have to be able to enjoy bow
hunting. As my good friend Koelkie says... get out and enjoy the
outdoors! Fisch”
Do
you think Jeff was excited when he wrote this? Congrats on the buck
and thanks for the great write up.
With
stories still in mind, Ellen had a surprise visitor last week. It
seems that our old friend Larry Oldenburg from Chaseburg read my plea
for hickory nuts last week, so he called and offered to bring some
over. He and El visited over coffee and cookies for nearly two
hours. Larry and his late wife, Doris – who grew up in our house –
used to come and visit and members of their family have stopped over
the years. Larry told Ellen he had sighted in his rifle and was
going deer hunting this season. When he was leaving, Larry said, “I
have a birthday coming up. December 7th,
Pearl Harbor Day.” El asked him the big question, “I'll be 92.”
If you see Larry tell him good hunting and if it's in December wish
him happy birthday and ask him about his deer hunt.
I
took my own advice last week and “shot” my deer rifle. That is,
four misfires later, I put the bolt in some cleaner and then
re-lubricated it and after another misfire, the next three rounds
fired. It was off to the Bad Axe and gunsmith Ron Stokke. For
future reference, Ron showed me how to take apart my rifle bolt and
clean it. He told me he put a new spring in it that should make it
work better. He cleaned both of our rifles, so we should be good
come November 17 – the Big One is upon us – only a week away!
Time to take inventory, buy the license, get to the grocery store,
and service the truck.
Until
next time, get out –This year, why not get a journal and start
recording the details of your hunt? Who was there, who got what,
what were the stories told, maybe the best joke or prank, the food,
the cost, etc. You and your kids and grandkids will appreciate it.
After the Packers victory over the Cardinals, Scout, Ellen and I took
a load of spent pumpkins up to the food plot and took a long walk
around our ridge top. There is a lot of deer and turkey sign, but
not much left for them to eat. We had a great visit and some
well-needed exercise. Enjoy.
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