posted by Jim on Nov 24

A good friend and business associate, Anthony Best sent me this picture and a brief story about his hunt with his son Wes.  It made me realize after a long hard, unsuccessful season that I am getting into a phase in my hunting career, where I may be forgetting about the meaning of the hunt.  You see, I have been to several states this year in pursuit of trophy bucks.  Weather and other factors never worked to my favor, so it has been very disappointing to me and rather frustrating. This story and the excitement in Anthony’s voice brought me back to reality.  Lets face it, the trophy is in the hunting experience and the life long memories which are associated with that given day.  What a great day and what a great buck.  Here is the story.

My 12 year old son Wesley has patiently waited all summer for the 2008 deer season.  We spent all summer hanging stands and growing food plots at our farm in Shiawasee county. We seen plenty of deer through archery season, but just couldn’t get the right deer to within easy bow range of Wes. He watched dozens of deer pass just out of range and knew things would be different during the firearm season.

We also spent a weekend this summer building a box blind on at my brothers property in Reed City, MI.  In June we built an awesome box blind along the edge of a cedar swamp and carefully trimmed some shooting lanes.  We were prepared for whatever mother nature handed us knowing we would be warm and dry in our new blind.

 On November 9 we made some mock scrapes and touched up our shooting lanes.  I knew it would be a little slow with the no baiting laws but I hoped the doe urine and the mock scrapes would increase our chances.  I freshened up the scrapes each day and put out my Stink Stick with VS-1 every morning and afternoon.  We had 4 different bucks on the trail camera when we arrived on the 14th so we were feeling optimistic. Weather was cold, wet & windy to say the least but it was dry in the blind.

We hunted all day Sat & Sunday with only seeing two does.  Monday, we decided to go out at 8:00 and sit until noon or as long as he could take it.  It was only 21 degrees so I thought the deer might move from 10 – 12, I was right! At 10 AM a six point appeared out of no where, from the swamp & Wes put it down with one shot from the trusty 30/30!  He was excited!  What a great feeling!  I am very happy for him, it was incredible!

Thank you Anthony and Wesley for a great story.  It is a beautiful buck. But, most of all, thank you for bringing me back to the reality of why we hunt!

posted by Jim on Nov 11

 When calling to deer, whether your using a grunt tube of some sort, a bleat can, or even a set of rattling antlers.  It’s my experience that you need to study the animals reaction to each sound.  Watching it’s body language will give you clues to determine your next move.  Do you call again, or do you wait to see how it plays out?  This is what I call (Taking his temperature).    Over the years I have tried to hone my skills on calling  game to within the range of my bow.  Whether it’s turkey in the spring, elk in September, and yes, even deer from October to the new year. Whatever the game you pursue, I’m sure this can work for you too. I would like to share with you one experience where this really played a big roll in the outcome of my hunt. 

 I was set up in the woods approximately 70 yards from the edge of a power line.  It was late season, December 5th to be exact.  With my binoculars I saw a nice buck following a drainage just inside the woods on the opposite side of a power line over 200 yards away.  The bucks nose was to the ground and he was traveling at a good pace.  I quickly grabbed my grunt tube.   After three or four grunts with no response it was obvious that he did not here my calls.  As fast as I could, I took my rattling antlers from a hook on the back side of my tree and tickled the tines together.  Still the buck showed no sign of slowing.  With nothing to loose, I slammed the horns together and ground them from side to side.  Bingo!
      The buck stopped immediately, threw his head up and stared in my direction.  After a second or two I again mashed the horns together and this time I added a long deep grunt from the call still in my mouth.  With that, the buck quickly changed directions and started my way.  In no time at all he was standing at the edge of the woods on my side of the power line.  As the deer closed the distance to my stand, he became increasingly more wary.  But each time he would slow his pace, I sped him up again with another deep grunt.  At this point, I would say his (temperature was red hot).  Calling aggressively was bringing him in.
       When the buck was within 35 or 40 yards the game changed a bit.  With the late season at hand all the foliage in the woods was down, The buck had expected to see another deer by now.  He hung up and just stared in my direction for several minutes,  then turned around to leave.  I stopped him with yet another grunt, but I could not get him to commit again.  And he began to move further away.  My first instinct was to do what had worked for me this far and give him another grunt.  But I held off.  Now he was on edge and know something was not right.  This is where I could have easily blown the whole thing. His (temperature went from red hot to cold) in a hurry.   Afraid of calling again with him so close.  I watched the buck sneak further and further away. 
Now my stomach felt as though I was going to puck.  My head was spinning and my whole body was trembling as though I had falling through an ice covered pond. 
It’s true that buck’s look bigger when their walking away, but this buck looked like a giant as he slowly faded back to where he had come.  I don’t really remember planning what I would do next, but when the buck was out about 70 or 80 yards I found myself cupping my hand around my mouth and doing my best to sound like one of those doe in heat “can call” that I, unfortunately did not own.  The buck acted as though he didn’t here me and I did it again. 
As if being electrocuted, he jilted around and glared in my direction.  Both of us stood as still as a statue.  Until,  to my complete amazement, the buck of my dreams was once again coming to my ambush. Although this time he was making a half circle to my down wind side, his slow, cautious approach allowed me ample time to ditch the antlers and get my bow ready.  By now he was well within bow range, but with the buck on red alert I dared not move. 
The eternity that it took for him to move the last couple steps that put his head only briefly behind a tree, was a slow torture that I would gladly put myself through again and again.  It’s that adrenaline rush that all bow hunters crave with every part of there being.  When the buck’s head appeared again on the other side of that tree, I found myself at full draw.  Now the tree that a moment before was my saving grace had suddenly became a burden to me, covering his vitals.  Although the next few seconds felt like hours, the deer finally inched forward another step.  When my sight pin settled on an imaginary speck, just behind his front shoulder, I released my arrow.  Eighteen yards away it found it’s mark passing through both lungs and the top of its heart.  I watched that  beautiful buck fall a mere 40 yards from where I had shot him. 
I’m sure that had I kept up the pressure, and continued to call at that buck while his body language was telling me that he know something was not right.  This hunt would have had a very different outcome.  By (taking his temperature), I was able to adjust my tactics, and make it happen. Best of luck, in whatever you pursue.