Two weeks of archery deer season remain, but I am so over it.
Deer don't show themselves much in my woods this time of year, and bucks surely have shed their antlers in the nutrition-poor piney woods of Grant County. It would be my luck to arrow a mature, antlerless buck.
And besides, I failed to complete the requirements for a Triple Trophy Award. That goal fell apart early when I didn't get a deer with a muzzleloader, and I am so glad I didn't.
I had many chances, and I finally resolved to take a young doe on the final day of the early muzzleloader season in October. I had been watching the same mature doe and a group of yearlings for the whole week. They showed up late on the last day, and I leveled my muzzleloader at the only deer that offered a clear shot. My finger was beginning to press against the trigger when the deer turned at just the right angle to skylight its head against a big, gray pine tree. Only then did I see the two wisps of spike antlers in the rapidly fading light. That was not a legal deer, and my season was a squeeze away from taking a very regrettable turn.
I exhaled, lowered my rifle and resolved only to shoot mature does henceforth.
My only deer in Arkansas was a 6-point buck that highlighted a really cool hunt. I was happy, but I was even happier in early January when I killed my biggest buck in Louisiana.
Instead of hunting, I'm taking inventory of all the maintenance I need to do in my areas. Lanes need cleared and food plots must be rejuvenated. All this as turkey season approaches.
It doesn't take much preparation for turkey season. You can scout right now, but turkeys today are probably not where they'll be in two months. Still, my anticipation builds daily, and deer-related maintenance chores are as good of a reason as any to be in the woods.
Remember the Lumberjack? That was a great old gobbler that roosted over a logging operation.
Loggers were busy in my part of the woods in 2017, and the Lumberjack roosted very close to their equipment, if not right over it. That bird did not gobble from the roost. He only flew down after the logging crew started rattling chains and slamming buckets of hydraulic fluid. He gobbled once or twice on the ground before vanishing into a thicket, rendering himself unhuntable.
Eventually the loggers moved to another part of the property. The morning after their departure, the Lumberjack made a commitment gobble on the ground and came in hot. He appeared atop a rise in the middle of a shaft of sunlight split by a row of pine trees and shattered by the morning mist. It looked like the stained glass light of a medieval cathedral.
His back-lit fan glowed as he strutted and twirled down that light shaft into the dark void of the hollow where I waited. It was the most breathtaking hunting scene I've experienced.
I hunted the same spot in 2018 hoping to re-create the thrill. The light shafts were the same, but no bird appeared. I finally got a grand old bird during a late afternoon hunt in which I used at least eight different calls.
Early in my career with the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette, I advocated ending spring turkey hunting at noon to help turkey populations recover. I'm glad the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission retained all-day hunting because most of my finest, most memorable hunts have taken place after 1 p.m. I've killed some of my best gobblers late in the afternoon.
Afternoon hunting is a different game than morning hunting, and it suits me. I am more patient to sit in one spot. If I don't get positive reinforcement in the morning, I get restless and wander, and that can be counterproductive when hunting tongue-tied Arkansas gobblers.
While we're on the subject, Friday marks my 14th anniversary as the outdoors editor for your only statewide daily newspaper. We've covered a lot of ground together, and I thank you for joining us on all these great adventures.
I look forward to taking you on many, many more.
Sports on 02/14/2019