Deer Hunting 2014: Misses and Failures

Tall 7 in Summer Velvet

It's been a while since I've posted anything here. Mainly due to lack of time and lack of interesting
material. It's not that I haven't been in the woods. I've done a lot of hunting, and had my fair share of opportunities too. I just haven't seemed to be able to make the most of those opportunities.

My first missed opportunity came the last day of muzzle loader season in Ga. I was sitting in a double stand with my two sons Israel (9) and Judah (7). We had two does come in about 35 yards in front of us. We waited for the perfect opportunity for us both to shoot and I counted a "one, two , three, fire." I shot first and Israel delayed a second or two. To my disappointment my powder failed to ignite and the cap sent both does running off, causing Israel to miss clean. That was my first time shooting a deer with a cap gun.

My next opportunity came the beginning of Nov. in Fl. I was hunting my property and I had a nice 8 pt. buck come in at 35 yards. As I drew my bow he caught my movement and became nervous. As he stood moving his head back and forth trying to figure out what I was, I released my arrow. In one quick motion he dropped his body and spun back towards where he came from; I watched my arrow fly right past the front of his neck.

My third missed opportunity is the most painful. I've been hunting a big tall 7 point buck all season.

Tall 7 Cruising During Daylight

I have a couple years of background on him from trail cameras. On a cold mid November morning he came following two does down a trail right behind my stand. I had plenty of time to draw before he stepped into my shooting lane and stopped. He was quartering slightly towards me and the thought that went through my mind was, "Don't shoot too far back." I should have waited for him to turn a little more broadside. I released and stuck the arrow in the back of his front shoulder. As he ran off I could see a lot of arrow sticking out. After giving it a couple hours I got down and found my arrow about 30 yards from where I shot him. I had only gotten about maybe 4 or 5 inches of penetration.

My brother and nephew drove up to help me track him and we spent a quite a few hours following a spotty blood trail. What blood we did find was very dark and red, no lung blood. After at least 500 yards it dried up and ended up calling off the search. I went back a couple days later to look for vultures or try to smell something dead; nothing. My hope is that he is still alive and well. Time should tell as he is a buck that has not been camera shy in the past.

It has been a disappointing deer season so far, but there's still a little time left to turn it around. I am actually going on a mid Feb. archery hunt with a buddy who drew one of 10 quota permits for a hard to get WMA in Central Florida and invited me to hunt as his guest. That will truly be a last chance deer hunt, and a cool experience, as I have never deer hunted in Feb.

I also drew one of 25 turkey quota permits for a Florida WMA that I have been trying to get for years. So even if deer season doesn't work out as hoped for, I'm already getting excited for turkey season.

A Pair of Opening Weekend Georgia Gobblers

Turkey season always seems to sneak up on me. Just when I think hunting is over till next Fall, I'm like, "Oh yeah, Spring turkey season!"

In all honesty turkey hunting is probably the funnest hunting I've ever experienced; especially when the birds are gobbling and coming into the calls. That was not the case during our 2014 opening weekend hunt in Georgia.

I missed a hunt planned for the Florida opening weekend at Richloam WMA when my wife and three of my kids came down with the stomach flu. Instead of calling in turkey I was cleaning up vomit. But the next weekend I headed up to Georgia with my brother Jacob and his son Noah. We arrived late Friday night and headed to my brother's lease early Saturday morning. Without having a chance to scout, I started at a spot where I killed a big Tom two years ago; a dirt road that goes along the East side of the lease bordered by a 40 yards strip of planted pines that run along the property line. On the other side of the property line is a large field planted in rye that turkey love to feed and strut in every year.

I sat against a pine tree on the edge of the road as the morning light began to illuminate the woods. I heard a bird gobble once down the road from me and a little while later saw two birds fly out of a pine tree about about 80 yards down the road and head for the field. After calling for about a half an hour without hearing anything else gobble, I decided to climb up a tree stand along the road to get a look at what was out in the field.

As I sat in the stand I caught movement down at the end of the little dirt logging road. I watched as a large flock of turkey crossed the road in single file and headed onto the field. I continued to watch as the hens fed on the young green rye while one of the gobblers strutted without seeming to arouse much interest from the ladies. In past years the turkey have fed and strutted on the field until about Noon and then returned to the woods where the hens would nest and the gobblers would go looking for more love. I don't think the breeding season had kicked in yet there because the hens stayed in the field all day long leading three longing gobblers with them on a string.

I decided to set up my ground blind and wait them out, hoping they would exit the field at the same spot I had watched them enter it early that morning. I set up on the West side of the little dirt logging road and placed a Jake and two hen decoys in the middle of the road. About 1 p.m. a hen crossed the road next to me and joined the other turkey in the field. Every so often I would sneak out of the blind and climb a ladder stand to see that the turkey were still out in the field showing no intention of leaving.

I did a marathon sit until evening. About 7 p.m. a hen crossed the road to the right of my blind. I shifted right in my chair expecting the rest of them to cross at the same spot. About five minutes later I glanced to my left to see a Tom staring at my Jake decoy. I was lucky I had the camouflage screening over the small porthole windows in my Ameristep Doghouse ground blind because it gave me the cover to once again shift seating positions and get set up on this wary Tom undetected. I was also glad I had elected to use my Rossi 12 gauge single shot chambered for up to 3 1/2" magnum loads with a short 22" barrel because it made it easy to maneuver around in the blind. As the Tom took a step to cross a small water filled ditch along the road, I put the cross hairs of the zero power scope on the base of his neck and squeezed the trigger.

I should have let him cross the ditch first because after whacking him he proceeded to flop around in

Waterlogged Tom

the water. By the time I got to him and pulled him out of the ditch the beautiful bronze feathered bird had the look of a Persian cat after taking a bath. Turkey look much prettier dry then wet. But I wasn't complaining. I snapped a few pictures then carried him back to the truck where I showed him off to Jacob and Noah.

The next morning I brought my nephew Noah in the ground blind with me to take the shot if we saw a bird. The birds were gobbling better and we did see a couple hens fly down from the roost near us and go into the field. Being that I had scattered the flock the evening before the other gobblers didn't roost in the same area they did the first morning.

After taking a lunch break Noah and Jacob got their ground blind out and set it up next to the food plot about 80 yards down the road from my setup. Once again we did an all afternoon marathon sit. A little after 7 p.m. a hen crossed the road to my left, then another and another. By the time the third hen crossed my heart was beating out of my chest with anticipation because I was sure that the gobblers were following the hens. But nothing else happened. I heard the hens walk behind me and fly up to their roosts.

After waiting another ten minutes I assumed all the birds had roosted and I began to gather my things

Big Ga Tom at the cleaning shed

together. As I was putting my calls into my pack I heard something walking through the pine needles in front of me. I looked up to see a huge Tom walking along the ditch line 15 yards in front of me. I was too surprised to be excited. Instinct took over as I raised my gun and dropped him. As I jumped out of the blind, turkey erupted all around me. I heard two shots ring out from down the road where Jacob and Noah shot at a gobbler as it flew by them, both missing him. Birds were flying into trees all around us.

After the chaos calmed down I jumped across the ditch to retrieve my bird. He was a beautiful Tom sporting an 11 1/2" beard and over 1 1/8" spurs. The best part is that he didn't make it to the ditch to get wet. My iPhone had just enough battery left to snap two pictures in the fading evening light before it died from all the Star Wars Angry Birds I had played during the long afternoon sit. On every hunt there seems to be that lucky guy who kills everything and I guess this trip was just my turn to be that guy.

I was happy to return to my family with a bunch of frying meat and some turkey fans, beards and spurs that will serve as trophies to keep this unique turkey hunt alive in my memory for years to come. It definitely wasn't my idea of what an exciting turkey hunt would look like but it was an example that making an educated guess and practicing a lot of patience can pay off when the turkey aren't gobbling much or responding to the calls.  

Backwater Mangrove Hogs

Surf & Turf

I've always had a tough time on my days off deciding whether to go hunting or fishing. Who says you need to choose either or? Over the summer I read an article that fascinated me. It was a tale of a Northern fella' who came down to Tampa Bay for a fishing charter and ended up shooting hogs in a backwater mangrove swamp instead. Being that I live in the Tampa Bay area, this article had my attention, obsession might be a better way to describe my fascination with this article. My brother Jonny and I read every word and scanned every picture looking for clues. Alas! We unlocked the code and pinpointed the spot.

Jonny wading the edge of the mangroves

After doing a Summer scouting trip in my little 16' Carolina Skiff and finding plenty of hog sign. We returned in January and spent half the day wading around in the mangrove swamps looking for hogs. We saw plenty of tracks, even some going over our own on the way back to the boat, but no luck finding any pigs. It was a rough hunt and wearing rubber boots was a big mistake. In many areas we were sinking in muck up to our thighs. After walking miles with rubber boots filled with mud and water, my legs began to cramp every time I would try to step over the high tangles of mangrove roots.

After taking a week to recover I was determined to return and seek redemption. I picked a Friday morning in late January on a very low tide. The forecast was calling for a front to pass through the evening before leaving cool air and light East winds Friday morning. Nope. I awoke to heavy rain and strong NW winds. Determined to press on I loaded the boat in the dark of morning and headed to the boat ramp, thinking the weather guys were just a few hours off.

I experienced hands down the worst boat ride of my life. But I was all in at that point and there was no turning back. When I finally arrived at the spot I was soaked to the bone. After putting a few miles under my belt without seeing any hogs I came on a fresh set of small pig tracks in the mud. I followed them until they went into a thick stand of mangroves. As I stopped at the edge of the seemingly impenetrable tangle of roots and branches, I could hear some pigs squealing a grunting.

Rainy day pig

It was not easy to slip through roots and branches without making much noise, but I managed to get
withing 25 yards of two small pigs foraging among the mangrove roots. One was black and the other was light with black spots. The black one was standing still giving me a perfect broadside shot, but every time I looked through the scope all I could see was condensation and rain drops on my scope. I didn't have a dry piece of material on my body to dry it with so keeping both eyes open, I discerned where the pig was in the scope and made the shot.

After dropping the black pig the spotted one scampered away into the mangroves, I think I could have shot it as well if I could see through my scope; but I was happy with the little 30 pound pig I had gotten and I was more than ready to get out of the rain. After sloshing about 2 miles back to the boat through mud and water I was very happy the pig was just a little one. The best part was that I had something to show for the most miserable boat ride I had ever experienced.

I returned the next week with a buddy and we shot three more; two more small ones and a big sow. A couple days later I brought Jonny back with my other younger brother Buka. My focus was to put them on some pigs. We walked around all morning without any luck. We finally decided to call it quits and headed back towards the boat. We were almost back to the boat on the edge of the Bay when we came around a point and saw a nice boar walking along the edge of the water. It saw us and began to run through the shallow water. Instinct kicked in as I quickly turned the power up on my scope, took off the safety, got on the hog and rolled him right before he got to the mangrove line. There were a couple guys fishing in flats boats off the shore line behind us watching and I can only imagine what they were thinking.

With my freezer full of pork and the warmer weather transforming the mangrove swamp into a mosquito infested nightmare, I think I'm done with the spot till next Winter. It is a nice option though during those slow cold months between deer season and Spring. Now it's time to start thinking turkey!