Deer Season 2019 Part 1

Missouri bow season for deer started on September 15, 2019.  I had spent quite a bit of time getting ready for the season and I was RED-EE!

My schedule was prohibitive for bow season so the early part didn’t go like I wanted

But rifle season started with a bang!

——————————————

As I said, everything seemed to be working against me during the early part of bow season.  Working on the day shift had me up and getting ready for work when I would have hunted in the mornings.  By the time I got off at 4 p.m. and drove a half to ¾ hour home, I’d get there a little late to get out into the woods.  Week days hunts just weren’t do-able. 

Weekends were often taken up visiting grandkids.  I certainly enjoyed that part but felt the season slipping through my fingers.

I only managed to sit in my ladder stand a few times, but in the pop-up blind only once.  The morning I sat in the pop-up I only saw one deer.  It was a buck but, at about 300 yards, was a bit too far for a bow shot.

In the ladder stand I saw about 30 deer every time I went out.  I saw dozens of does, fawns, and button bucks.

Oh, but I saw some shooters too.  I figured there were at least three eight-pointers and a beautiful nine or ten-pointer.  I say nine or ten-pointer because he was still in velvet the last time I got him on one of my game cams.  He was well-balanced but his fourth point on his right antler was matched with just a bump on his left.  Since that photo was taken in late July, I figure it had probably grown into a point but I just didn’t know. 

There was another buck that was a basic eight-pointer who carried four stickers around his base in a couple of my game cam pictures.  A twelve-pointer!

I would have gladly taken any of those, but they managed to stay three to four times my farthest limit for a comfortable shot with my crossbow.  I figured the bucks had patterned me and were staying away from my stand.  I had an idea for a place I could set up a new blind but I just couldn’t find the time to get out and do it without risking being out when the deer were moving.

You’ll read more about that blind location in Part 3.

——————————————

On Sunday, October 27, as I sat in the ladder stand watching all the deer foraging across the open field from me, three of them on my right started to make their way toward some other deer on my left.  One of the three was a fat doe.  If the three continued the way they were going they would walk right in front of my stand at the perfect range.

I had no doubt I was about to collect a fat doe for the freezer.

——————————————

The three moved closer and closer, so near to the edge that some of the brush I had left to help conceal me actually provided them protection.  You don’t shoot a bow through brush unless you can pick a clear spot.

It was getting later and I only had a few moments of good light left.  She stopped with a leafy branch between us.  I willed her to move forward.  She did.

I put the sight dot on her chest, just behind her elbow and a tad high, since I was shooting down, so the bolt would pass through her heart.  I squeezed the trigger.

I heard the, “Thump!” of the bow string but no, “Thwack!” of a bolt striking flesh.  The deer all ran to the left and out of range.  She didn’t run like she was wounded.  In fact, she didn’t even act particularly scared.  The three were out of range but actually circled a bit and stopped.  Then they started eating again.

They weren’t even scared!

What the…?

——————————————

I watched the three until the light dimmed too much to tell which was which.  After the deer left the clearing for a while, I climbed down and scanned for any sign of a hit.

No blood, nothing.  Nothing.

I later got some pictures of the same three deer on the game cam I kept on a tree near my ladder stand and could see no indication of a hit.  No wound, nothing.

So, I am 99% sure I missed her completely from point blank range.  Maybe the bolt ricocheted off some leaf or twig that I never saw in the low light.  I kind of lean toward that excuse for missing such an easy shot, but I’ve been back there several times to search and have not been able to find the bolt. 

If it had been the logical, near miss, the bolt would have stuck a few inches in the ground and stood proudly announcing my awful shooting to the world, but it wasn’t there.  It wasn’t in the ground for a close miss or even for a bad miss. 

It’s a mystery, my friend…a mystery.

——————————————

Missouri’s bow season closes while the firearms season is open.  Oh, you can still hunt with a bow but, if you get a deer, you have to tag it with a firearms tag.  I guess this keeps people from lying about how they got their deer.  Unfortunately, it also means, if you fill your firearms tags early, you can’t keep hunting by any method.

More about that in the next installment of Deer Season 2019 Part 2. 
Right now, John and Travis were coming!

——————————————

My son, Travis, didn’t show a lot of interest in hunting when he was a kid, although he did tag a doe as a teenager.  When he became a father, however, I guess it dawned on him that our hunts together were more about family time and less about killing a deer.  My strict insistence on safety first, next, and always may have cast a shadow over the father/son thing.  I have to point out though that Travis is now at least as insistent on safety as I had been.

Travis, is the father of my oldest grandson, five-year-old John.  John is an active, excited-to-be-alive kid.  He loves everything with an enthusiasm that amazes me as much as it wears me out.  He’s always eager to be involved in anything his dad is doing.

Travis had been planning on bringing John home for deer season this year, and actually hunt.  Last year (2018) he brought John home, but not to hunt.  The two sat in my pop-up blind one morning to watch deer and give John a feel for hunting.

Those who watched the video Travis made last year will remember that the boy was not particularly good at being quiet… or still.  They saw no deer while in the blind, but did see five as they walked back to the house.  John loved it and couldn’t wait to come back this year.

——————————————

As I said, Travis was eager to bring John with him again in 2019.  With his family moving earlier in the year, and Travis starting a new job, then the passing of my mother in August, we all forgot some things.  What Travis forgot was what day the season opener fell on.  He had made some work commitments he didn’t feel comfortable backing out on, which limited his time here.  The two would make the eight-hour drive from Oklahoma on Friday, go out hunting the next morning, then head back to Oklahoma around noon.

Now I felt the pressure.

A non-resident license to hunt deer in Missouri this season cost $100 for an antlerless tag and $225 for an any-deer tag. 

Travis wanted John to have the full experience of hunting.  You know, getting up early and making your way out to your chosen spot, then waiting quietly…well, as quietly as possible for John, and witnessing the taking of an animal’s life.  He wants John to understand that, for people to eat meat, animals must die, and he wants his son to take that with an appropriate level of seriousness.

Besides that, Travis wanted some venison.  He remembers all the meals of deer burgers and steaks we had when he was growing up.  He remembers the smell of deer chili simmering all day on the stove, then that mind-boggling flavor of the chili mixed with crushed saltine crackers.

So, you see, I needed to decide the best place for T and son to sit while taking into account John’s difficulty staying quiet.  I needed to think of the safety of a fidgety five-year-old.  I needed to remember that the walk to the stand had to be as quiet as possible to keep from alerting all the deer in the neighborhood…while walking through woods carpeted in a layer of crispy crackly new-fallen leaves.

Oh, and I had to decide where they would have the best chance to see, and possibly take, a deer. 

Heavy responsibility for a grandpa.  Yup.

——————————————

I talked to Travis about the options, and the strengths and weaknesses of each possibility.  We talked about option A, the ladder stand; option B, the pop-up; and C, the tower blind.  He asked for my opinion.

I said, “Option D.”

He looked at me quizzically.

I smiled and said, “Your mom and I have been spending a lot of evenings sitting on the big deck, with a fire in the firepit.  Sometimes we cook on the grill over the pit and we talk.

“Nearly every time we sit out there, the deer come out.”  I pointed westward.  “The ones that come out there are within rifle range.  At times it’s a long shot, but sometimes they move closer.  The deer have learned to pretty much ignore us.

“If you and John and I sit on the deck and don’t get too crazy, John won’t have to keep totally quiet or perfectly still.”

Travis nodded thoughtfully, “Let’s do that.”

——————————————

Opening morning found us getting up before the sun, dressing warmly, donning the required blaze orange, and walking more or less quietly through the back yard.  Travis kept shushing John despite my assurances that silence wouldn’t be particularly important in the back yard.

Then I stopped and held out my arm to stop my son and grandson.  “See the deer?”  Shadowy figures could barely be seen moving noiselessly across the field.

Travis went into full stealth mode and I followed.  John did a pretty good job doing a five-year-old’s version of sneaky.

We climbed the steps up to the deck and I showed them where to sit for the best view of the field.  John struggled to sit still and his hard-soled boots on the wooden deck didn’t help.

——————————————

I was proud of my son.  He had spent plenty of time teaching his own son firearm safety.  “What do you do if you see a gun?”

John answered, “Tell you.”

“What else?”

“Don’t touch it!”

“If I hand you a gun, where do you point it?”

John quickly answered, “At the ground or up in the sky.”

“Where do you NOT point it?”

“At anybody.”

“Where else?”

“At anything that I don’t want to destroy.”

Travis smiled.  He was proud of his son for remembering what he had been taught.

I smiled too.  I was proud of MY son for remembering what HE had been taught, and for passing it on to his own son…my precious grandchild.

Almost from the time we sat down, deer wandered out onto the hillside now and then, meandered around, and headed back into the surrounding woods.

But that was before legal shooting hours.

——————————————

I probably enjoyed our time waiting more than my son did.  He remembered all my admonitions to keep quiet while he was hunting deer with me.  Most likely, he thought the necessity for silence carried over to our current situation.  Of course, he may have been using this opportunity to emphasize to John how important silence normally is on a hunt of this sort.

John may have been trying to take his dad’s warnings seriously, but he still had trouble following the rule against noisiness.  I couldn’t help but smile to myself every time my grandson loud-whispered, “Can I take my fingers out of my ears yet?”

“John, you don’t have to put your fingers in your ears yet,” Travis said.  “I’ll tell you before I shoot.

——————————————

I checked my watch.  “It’s legal shooting hours now.”

Travis nodded.  Now that it was light enough and legal, there were no deer in sight.

A moment later, I said, “A deer!” and pointed south of us.  Walking along a waterway that led to the pond was a buck.  He didn’t seem to be a monster or anything, but he definitely had antlers…and Travis had an any deer tag.

Travis “scoped him out.”  He shook his head, “There are too many branches between us.  I’m waiting for him to get clear.”

Safety, safety, safety.

The buck turned slightly and walked away from us, never quite getting clear of the intervening branches.

Another deer, this time a doe, came out but she was in an unsafe direction, toward a neighbor’s house.

“Why didn’t you shoot it, Dad?” John asked.

Then I heard the words that I have spoken probably hundreds of times, but it was Travis who said them, “There is no deer worth taking a chance on killing another human being.”  He went on to explain about the neighbor’s house and a deer blind we could barely make out through the trees. 

That’s my boy.

——————————————

The light was good by the time a doe came out uphill from us.  She grazed quietly, taking her good time giving a good shooting opportunity.  Eventually she stepped into the clear.

“How far, Dad?  170 yards?” Travis asked.

“Yeah,” I nodded.  “I was thinking 150 but 170 is good too.”

Travis raised his Remington .270 and steadied it over the railing.  He slo-o-o-owly squeezed the trigger.  “BOOM!”

Since I was intended to be a bystander and not a shooter, I had taken my camcorder with me in my backpack.  I wanted to get a video of the taking of a deer if I could.  So, I had the camera out and was videoing when Travis shot…a clean miss. 

Now, watching the video, you can hear me trying half-heartedly to hold back my amused snicker.  I couldn’t resist giving my son a hard time.  “She’s just standing there!  Shoot again,” I chuckled. 

The doe looked around and lowered her head for another bite of soybeans.  Just as she raised it again, “Boom!”

The fat doe dropped like a rock.

——————————————

I congratulated my son and we high-fived.  “Good shot!”

John, Travis, and I climbed down from the deck and walked to the doe.  I videoed some more.  I wanted to get Travis’s reaction to his shot.

I expected a smile and, “After I missed with the first shot, I knew I’d have to calm down and aim more carefully.”

Oh, no.  Not my son.  Instead I got a video of my boy lapsing into his idea of a hillbilly/redneck accent, “Ah got may a dee-er!”

So much for a serious response.

One of my other sons, Andy, joined us.  He had come in the night before but hadn’t joined us for the hunt. 

I took a couple pictures of my son and grandson with T’s deer.  While I went to get my pickup, Travis used an app on his cell-phone to measure the distance from his deer to the deck.  “It’s a little over 160 yards,” Travis announced, with maybe a touch of pride.

We loaded the doe up and cleaned her out near the machine shed, beside the handy freeze-proof hydrant.  I stood by and gave (I hope) helpful advice when T needed it.

Afterwards we hauled T’s deer to our butcher, The Meat Shop, just outside Dexter, MO.  Travis told the friendly staff how he wanted the doe processed and packaged.

——————————————

We went back home where we visited a few minutes and had lunch before we sadly said goodbye to John and Travis.

I hugged my descendants and commented, “Well, we did the almost impossible.  You had only a few hours of one morning to hunt, and you got a deer.”

He agreed.

“Let’s never do that again.  Next year plan for more time so we can really enjoy y’all’s visit.”

He agreed with that too.

After T. and John left, Andy and his family stayed for a short time longer, then they headed home too.  I immediately missed my kids…but, now it was MY turn.

——————————————

I got into my ladder stand early that afternoon, settled in and began to relax.

Light started to dim and I was beginning to feel that I wasn’t going to see anything that night.  Experience has taught me that my odds of seeing a deer worth taking is much greater in the stand than in my recliner watching TV.

Yeah, I’m smart that way.  

As the light dimmed, I started to see deer.

——————————————

Not long before modern firearms season began, I had started receiving texts with pictures of the deer others had shot.  A neighbor tagged one of the eight-pointers I had been watching.  I could feel my chances of taking a wall-hanger dwindling away.  His daughter nailed another eight-pointer on opening morning. 

A few evenings before rifle season I saw one of my eights stepping into the field.  He was headed my way, with the old sweetgum partly obscuring him.  I could count the four tines on his right antler standing proudly, announcing to the world, “Yep, I grew an eight-point rack this year!”

If he kept coming the way he was headed, he’d be in range in just a few more steps.

Then he turned to his right and I said, “Dad gum it!” and lowered my crossbow.  Instead I grabbed my video camera to capture proof of what I was seeing.  The former eight-pointer was now just a four.  His entire left antler had broken off, probably in a fight with another buck.

I got some video and went back to the hunt.

Another of my eight-point bucks was out of contention for my 2019 deer.

——————————————

As I sat in the ladder stand, I kept doing the mental math.  Two of my eights had been killed and another had lost an antler.  I hadn’t seen any of the bigger bucks for a month or two before rifle season opened. 

What were the chances I would sit in the stand all rifle season, black powder season, and the rest of bow season, and not collect a buck.  Another year without antlers.

Honestly, I’m not sure if that’s what was going through my mind or if it was jealousy for Travis taking his doe that morning.

I don’t know; I really don’t.

What I do know is that, when I got a glimpse of antler out to my left.  Right at the edge of my vision, where the clearing gave way to trees in a waterway, stood a buck.  He stood there, proudly showing off the growth of bone on his head.

The problem was, even though I could see that he had antlers, I couldn’t see how much antler he had.  I could tell that he was bigger than a fork-horn, but I couldn’t tell how MUCH bigger.

I was checking him out through my scope and trying to count points when, all of a sudden, I had one of those, “What the heck,” moments.  His kill zone was in the clear.  Heck, his whole body was in the clear.  The only thing even partially obscured was much of his head…the part with the antlers on it.

At that point I must have thought “What the heck,” or something like that.  I moved the crosshairs to his kill zone and squeezed the trigger.  “BOOM!”  The buck dropped in his tracks.

I unloaded my rifle and climbed carefully down, reloaded the rifle and made my way toward my buck. 

“What the?”  There was a slick-head standing not too far from the dead buck.  It was just standing there staring at me.

My brain raced.  I had just used my any deer tag but I still had my antlerless only tag.  Without thinking more than that and meat-for-the-freezer, I raised the rifle again and collected the slick-head, who turned out to be a button buck, legal under the antlerless tag.

Then it hit me.  I had just filled both of my firearms tags.  Even if I saw the twelve-pointer standing in my back yard wearing a sign reading, “Shoot me!” I couldn’t.  I was out of contention for the rest of rifle season and wouldn’t be able to hunt during black powder season either.

I now had a sinking feeling.  Oh, I still felt the satisfaction of collecting some delicious meat for the freezer.  That was good, but I wouldn’t be able to collect another buck until bow season recommenced.

At least I thought I couldn’t.

How wrong I was.

Stay tuned for Part 2.

——————————————

PLEASE SUBSCRIBE AT THE UPPER RIGHT. IT’S FREE!

You will ONLY receive notifications when I post new entries to my blog.

Go to the top of the right hand column where it says, “SUBSCRIBE TO BLOG VIA EMAIL”.  Fill in your email and hit the “Subscribe” button.  You will receive a verification email.  Please confirm that you want to subscribe by clicking, “Confirm Follow” and you will be set!  Thanks!

It doesn’t seem to work from a cell phone, only a computer.  I don’t know why.  Sorry.  If there’s a problem, send me your email address and I’ll sign you up.

——————————————