The tree stands are up. Scouting has been done. We've fired quivers of practice arrows. All is ready for archery deer season where we hunt, at Camp See-N0-Deer.
The other lads do pretty well with the deer on this woodlot where a landowner lets a few of us bowhunt. I'm thinking of hiring myself out as a one-hunter deer population control center. Every time I step foot on the place, deer vanish into the next solar system.
Wildlife experts tell us we have too many deer in a lot of areas. I'm happy to right that situation when I climb into a tree stand, at Camp See-No-Deer or anywhere.
Too many deer on your place? I'm your man, but not because I'll transplant many white-tails from your land to my freezer.
Deer think your flowers and shrubs are a vegetarian food bar? Give me a call. When I show up to hunt, deer will become an endangered species, at least where you live.
Word of my deer-clearing powers has spread to the point that I don't ask people to hunt on their place. They ask me.
Several seasons ago, a couple invited me to bowhunt on their property "to thin out some deer," they said. I'm always happy to help out the neighbors.
When I showed up to scout around, I practically needed a cow catcher on the front of my truck there were so many deer. Deer were everywhere, standing, lying on the ground, playing cards. As the sun rose on opening morning, the only deer around were the concrete variety in my neighbors' front yard.
They were smart to phone me for some reliable critter control.
Back at Camp See-No-Deer, things get pretty exciting during bow season. There was the evening that a thicket behind my tree stand shook like it would rattle the Richter Scale. It had to be a 10-point buck headed my way. As my knees shook, an armadillo came waddling out of the tangle.
During another sunset hunt, three baby raccoon emerged, sleepy-like, from the crown of a hollow tree. They stood ready for their nightly rounds with mom.
That's half the fun for us at Camp See-No-Deer, sitting quietly in the woods watching wildlife when the wildlife thinks no one is watching. Birds land close enough to touch. Squirrels bark on branches just above our heads.
If we don't see deer, sometimes they see us. One morning I climbed down from my tree stand only to hear a deer snort behind me. Ha ha. Since this is Camp See-No-Deer, it had to be the wacky landowner snorting like a deer to mess with me when he saw my truck parked beside the road.
I whirled around to see three does running for their little deer lives. Their white rumps would be the last I'd see of those does all season.
We will all start anew when bow season opens on Saturday at Camp See-No-Deer.
Outdoors on 09/25/2014