Have you ever woke up knowing that today was going to be your day?
That no matter what you do or how you do it, success is certain.
Monday's deer hunt was like that for me, but the optimism actually started last Sunday, a day in which I did not hunt for opposite reasons. I knew hunting Sunday would be a bust, but Monday would be the deal.
I awoke at 4:30 a.m., but stayed put. There was no reason to hurry because I never see deer in my hunting spots until 8 a.m. or later.
At 5:45 a.m., I got up, brewed a pot of coffee, filled my Thermos and stopped at the little convenience store in my community for a steak, egg and cheese biscuit.
Morning was in full flower when I arrived at Old Belfast Hunting Club. I strapped on my binoculars, put on my backpack and uncased two rifles. One was a Thompson Center Omega Z3 muzzleloader, and the other was a Browning A-Bolt Medallion chambered in 25-06 Remington. If a doe came close, I would take it with a muzzleloader.
For anything more challenging, I'd use the 25-06.
I had killed my only deer this season with a crossbow, so I already cleared the highest hurdle for a Triple Trophy Award. A rifle or muzzleloader kill would check get me a step closer.
The Arkansas Game and Fish Commission gives its Triple Trophy Award to hunters that kill a deer with all three prescribed methods -- archery/crossbow, muzzleloader and modern gun. I've never gotten one, and that's one of my goals this year.
The few deer I've seen in Grant County since Nov. 12 exhibited rutting behavior. All of the does that passed near my stand were pursued by small bucks, including a spike. With each passing day, does become more receptive, which attracts mature bucks.
To tilt the odds in my favor, I brought a pair of antlers to attract a buck by rattling.
My rattling antlers have a history. They came from the remains of a magnificent 9-point buck I found as I left the woods on the last day of Missouri's 2003 modern gun season. I did not see a buck that season, and I was disappointed as the sun set on my last chance.
I took a shortcut through a cedar-choked ravine and saw bones through the tangle. It was a buck's skeleton, and it's rack was intact. I considered it a consolation prize.
I've rattled up a lot of bucks with them over the years, and I have as much confidence in them as I do in my favorite turkey calls in the spring.
The morning was beautiful -- cool and bright -- with a soft breeze that whispered through the pines. There was no wildlife activity, though, so I had a couple of cups of coffee, answered a few e-mails and checked the news.
At 8:20 a.m., it was time to make some music. I leaned out the front of my stand and tinkled the antlers, simulating a pair of bucks beginning to spar. Then, I crashed them together and gradually increased the volume and the intensity to its climax. I rapidly abated the pitch and the intensity before ending the sequence.
The only question was from which direction a buck would come. The northeast breeze blew in my face, so the most likely direction was from the southwest, which was to my back. Bucks often approach rattling from downwind to see who's fighting, and maybe to abscond with a doe while the combatants are distracted.
There's not much thick cover nearby in that direction, though, and none for a long way to the west. A dense thicket is about 200 yards to the north, and another is about 325 yards to the east. A buck coming from that thicket would also have to cross a road where another hunter has a stand.
A buck could come from anywhere, so I listened and watched closely for footsteps and movement.
At 8:40 a.m., a buck strode quickly from the direction of the east thicket. Through my binoculars I determined that it was a 6-point. Its rack was not wide, but it looked fairly tall. I didn't know how close it would come or how clear a shot it might present, so I instinctively reached for the 25-06.
The buck stopped about 40 yards from my shooting lane and surveyed the area. Like turkeys, deer are adept at pinpointing noise sources. If it didn't see the combatants, it might turn and retreat.
I could see only the buck's rump. The rest of its body was obscured by pines. I breathed softly and waited.
After a couple of minutes, it continued forward.
I wanted a bigger buck, but younger bucks are often more likely to respond to rattling. But you never know how success will be packaged, but I don't question it. I started my day knowing I was going to meet this buck.
It walked quickly when it entered the lane. I mouthed a doe bleat. The buck stopped and looked at my stand, giving me a textbook broadside. The shot was perfect.
Mike Romine was hunting about a quarter mile away.
"Did you shoot?" he texted.
"Buck down," I replied.
"Need any help?"
"I'm in my stand enjoying a celebratory cuppa coffee. Then I'm going to go get my cart and wheel it out of here."
"Hold tight," Romine texted. "I'll be down there in a few minutes, and I'll haul it out on my 4-wheeler."
When Romine arrived, we stood side by side in the soft morning light and gulped the pine-scented breeze.
Romine tilted his chin, took a deep breath, and asked, "How can you not love it in here?"
"You cannot be here and not feel good," I said. "It's just one of those magic places."
Romine said, "I haven't been in here since we brought in this stand, but man, this is beautiful!"
He slapped my back, shook my hand and said, "You've rattled up every buck you've killed out here."
"When it works, it's the coolest thing in the world," I said.
After we shot a few photos, we strapped the buck to Romine's 4-wheeler.
"Want to ride?" he asked.
"I'll walk," I said.
"It's a nice day for a walk, ain't it?" he asked before puttering away.
When I arrived at camp, Romine already had the buck on the skinning pole.
Sports on 11/27/2016