The season was full of promise because of another milder than usual winter. Early scouting confirmed that promise, as sign was abundant.
The one thing that concerned me was another good acorn crop. As it turns out, it was a good crop, not a great one, and the beechnut crop was not a factor, thankfully.
Since you have to use your gun season tag if you shoot a deer during black powder season, I curtailed my muzzleloading season so as not to disrupt my planned hunts with my son Tony, my grandson Ian, and my brother-in-law Dana.
I had been looking forward to Ian joining us since the day that he was born. I always enjoy hunting with Dana for many reasons, especially because of his appreciation of the seemingly limitless land that we get to roam, unlike the endless posted signs in NY and PA, where Dana usually hunts.
My trail cameras showed at least 12 different bucks. There was only one monster at Buck Hump, of course, as it is one of the least accessible spots. Even there, he was only showing up after dark…way after dark.
As opening day approached, I had as good a handle on things as one can expect when these deer have literally miles to roam.
The rut is the big unknown. It can send those randy bucks off their normal game and haunts. My best guess on the most likely spot for one of those deer to hang out was Stand 4, which is high up on the mountain. My belief is that with an ample crop of acorns there, they would not have to risk getting down lower on the mountain to eat. Also, with the updrafts each morning, they could easily detect a doe in estrus or approaching danger.
Opening day’s swirling wind was anything but conducive to hunting. The second day was just what the doctor ordered. It was cool and calm.
I headed off to a crossing that seemed promising. The deer use it to access the lower portion of their range from their bedding areas up in the higher ledges, knolls, and swamps.
I set up on the best crossing with a limited, but good view of the swamp’s edge that they follow to get to their destination. I had not sat long, maybe 20 minutes or so, when I heard a shot to my left, the west. I was sure that it was one of our guys, but which one? I turned on my walkie talkie.
In a few minutes I heard, “I got a buck!” It was Tony. Later he said that it was an eight-pointer and about 125 pounds.
Dana offered to go home and get the ice fishing sled, which makes for a great deer hauling device. I said that I would meet him at the gate so we could walk up to Tony together. He left his rifle home–one less thing to lug down the mountain.
Ian joined us on the hike, which was all uphill on a very weathered logging trail, or skidder trail, as the loggers call them.
When we reached Tony, it was obvious that the buck was bigger than Tony had estimated. We took turns guessing. I guessed 140 pounds, Dana guessed around 155, and Ian guessed 145. In any case, we were sure that it was the biggest buck that Tony had ever shot, and the rack was a very nice eight points.
Next, it was all about dressing it out and starting down the mountain. The sled worked great with an occasional spill when we hit ruts caused by some erosion.
Then it was down to the local shop to check it in and weigh it. It turned out to be 162 pounds.
To our surprise, this buck never showed up on any of my cameras. So there are still a dozen or so bucks running around on the mountain.
That night we enjoyed the heart, liver, and tenderloins. It all tasted great, and that dinner capped off a great week.
WLAGS
WLAGS 