ARKANSAS SPORTSMAN

1 hog, 1 doe and a spooked buck

— I was too slow at the moment of truth.

Or, more to the point, the buck was too quick.

It happened at Bois d’Arc Wildlife Management Area in Hempstead County, where I finished the muzzleloader deer season last weekend with my friend Rick Hamilton of Hope. The Arkansas Game and Fish Commission controls deer hunting with modern guns and muzzleloaders at Bois d’Arc by issuing a select number of permits. Bowhunters can hunt there anytime during the statewide archery deer hunting season, except when the controlled hunts are in progress.

Visiting the AGFC’s Web site in October, I discovered that a number of permits were still available on a first-come, first-served basis, so I bought one. The permit entitled me to take up to three deer, but not more than one buck. Bois d’Arc harbors some big bucks, so I had high hopes of experiencing a season highlight there.

Dr. Lester Sitzes III of Hope, a former member of the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission, graciously offered his home as base camp for the weekend. I met Hamilton in town, and we traveled together to a section ofthe WMA that offered a good chance at a buck.

The area was bottomland dominated by big oak trees and an open understory that allowed a good vision field extending more than 100 yards in places. Little thickets dotted the woods like islands, and there were also a lot of big trees that had blown down to the ground. In woods like these, I have learned that bucks often bed down in downed treetops. These are good hides for them because they can see out but it’s hard to see in.

Hamilton and I slipped through the woods, covering 50-100 yards at a time. We sat for 20-30 minutes, then crept a little farther. As we sat, I saw a white tail flicker in the distance. I tugged at Hamilton’s jacket and said, “To your right. I think it’s a deer.”

I slowly raised my rifle, a Knight Rolling Block, and centered the round reticle ofmy Bushnell Banner scope on the movement. It wasn’t a deer. It was a big, white hog. It turned and came toward us, giving me a clean profile at about 50 yards.

“What do you think?” I asked. “Bust it?”

Hamilton hesitated and said, “I hate to let one go, but that’s a big ol’ hog. I think we ought to wait for one that’s a little closer to a road.”

I couldn’t argue with that. We were deep in the woods, and dragging out a pig that appeared to be close to 300 pounds was not going to be fun.

About an hour later, we found a rub line where a buck had worn the bark off some big trees. That indicated a big buck, but hunting a rub line you’ve just found is chancy because you don’t know he’s visiting. Judging by the lack of deer activity in the woods, the buck was probably still nocturnal.

About 30 minutes later, we came to a big oak tree on the ground. We separated to walk around it, and when we got to the root ball a loud crashing sound erupted from the treetop area. I moved to the side just in time to see a very largeantlered buck spring from the branches. My gun was already to my shoulder, but I only saw its back and head as it leapt out of the branches to the other side of the tangle. It all happened in less than three seconds.

The next morning was a lot cooler, and the conditions were better for hunting. At first, anyway. We had not been in the woods long when a thunderstorm struck. The rain started gently and gradually became torrential. It hasn’t rained in Hempstead County since, what, 2006? What a time for it to start.

Hamilton and I eased through this other bottom, which looked a lot more “deery” than the first bottom. I saw a doe abut 75-100 yards away. Two large limbs crossed her vitals, compromising what otherwise would have been a pretty easy shot. She stood there for the longest until the breeze finally swirled and she caught my scent. A yearling was with her, too, and they were gone in a flash.

It goes that way more often than not, but I was thrilled to hunt a new place with a pleasant and highly knowledgeable companion.

Sports, Pages 29 on 11/08/2012

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