2018-19 Bambi Whacking

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  • outrider58

    Eats Bacon Raw
    MDS Supporter
    Jul 29, 2014
    49,818
    I have hunted gun season out here before and deer just disappear from hunting pressure. give it time to late muzzy or when bow come back and you'll see deer.

    This^^^

    Gun season has always been hit or miss(mostly miss) for me. Deer seem to go very dormant this time of year. Taking a well needed break from the rigors of the rut. This is why late muzzle loader season is my second favorite season after pre rut bow season. Deer get back on their feet to feed up for winter.
     

    lazarus

    Ultimate Member
    Jun 23, 2015
    13,678
    This^^^

    Gun season has always been hit or miss(mostly miss) for me. Deer seem to go very dormant this time of year. Taking a well needed break from the rigors of the rut. This is why late muzzle loader season is my second favorite season after pre rut bow season. Deer get back on their feet to feed up for winter.

    Yeah, I am probably out for late ML this year. Too many commitments and my wife ain’t happy with me. She let me do Green Ridge and is letting me do the Eastern Shore for late gun season. Maybe that’ll thaw. Toss up with my boys if I will take them to the range or take them hunting for an hour or two during late ML. I’ll probably leave it up to each to decide.
     

    aray

    Ultimate Member
    Jun 6, 2010
    5,294
    MD -> KY
    Deer aren’t always the problem, or how I almost became a fossil

    The night before my last hunt, my wife joked, “Don’t fall out of the tree!” She knows that’s a big killer of hunters, or getting shot like Dick Cheney, but I never dreamed other perils awaited me.

    I was feeling pretty good Thursday. I had never scouted or hunted Stand #6 at AACO’s Jug Bay before, but it had a good reputation.

    From the big poster-board map at the ranger’s station I knew access to #6 was at the end of an access road, around a farmer’s field, approaching from the SW. But as I drove along the road, I noticed a reflective marker indicating #6 access. I thought that was odd, since I hadn’t reached the farm yet, and I was SE not SW of the GPS coordinates provided by the rangers. But I stopped the truck, got my gear, and began the hike in anyway.

    As I walked north, reflective markers were on the right; a ravine appeared to my left. My GPS said I needed to go NW so figured the path would lead me to a place to cross the ravine. I was surprised to see a reflective arrow pointing to the east. “That has to be Stand #7,” I thought, since by now #7 should have been ENE and #6 should have been WNW.

    On I hiked. The reflectors were no more. I searched for a ravine crossing but could find none. “I must have missed a marker somewhere,” so I backed up and began a methodical search for markers or a crossing. No joy, and the clock towards dawn was ticking.

    Giving up, I decided to use the path indicated on the ranger’s poster board, and hiked back to the truck. More time ticked by. I got to the truck, loaded my gear once more, drove to the end of the road, unloaded again, got my gear situated, then began hiking north along the farmer’s field. The ravine was now to my right.

    No reflectors. Now I was concerned, and the sky was beginning to lighten as the penumbra approached. As I hiked north GPS navigation showed Stand #6 first to the NE, then ENE, and finally almost due east. There was no obvious way to cross the ravine.

    Seeing no choice and running out of time, I decided to find my own way to cross the ravine. I worked my way down the slope, only to find a stream at the bottom, approximately 12’ wide, with running water no more than 1” deep. Easy-peasy to cross, I thought.

    One step in. My right foot sank into the mud over my foot. Two steps. Now my left foot was immersed as well. But I have great waterproof boots – who cares about them getting muddy, right? It was hard to pull my right foot out to take the third step. It immediately sank halfway up my boots! “A bog!” I thought, but now I was off balance and pulled my left foot out and placed it side-by-side, where it too sank in deep.

    I tried to back up, but couldn’t. The suction under my boots was too strong. When I took the weight off one foot to try (unsuccessfully) to pull the other foot out, the full weight of my body, tree climber, backpack, gun, etc. just sank my remaining foot deeper in the mud. Trying to extricate myself was making it worse not better.

    Within 5 seconds the mud was over the top of my boots, mid-shin. Within 10 seconds I had sunk to just below my knees and was hopelessly stuck.

    All my life I thought quicksand was just something to spice up Tarzan movies, or at best created under contrived conditions. I had a lot to learn.

    I realized I was stuck in the mud, sinking fast, no one knew where I was, I was too far to be heard by using my emergency whistle, and no one would think to look for me until maybe an hour or two after the hunt ended. When they did, they’d probably start the search at the other path, marked for #6. Who knows if or when they would look for me where I actually was? Option 1 was to keep sinking into the bog, facetiously wondering if I might become a fossil (rapid deposition being essential for almost all fossils; slow silting over long periods of time is a common myth as the animal will decompose or be eaten by scavengers). Option 2 was to bottom out (hopefully) but remain stuck, with hypothermia a concern as it was subfreezing temperatures and I was submerged in water up to my knees and still sinking. I didn’t like either of those choices. I thought about my cell phone, but I had my gun in one hand, the GPS in the other hand, a tree climber on my back, my backpack tied behind that, and my cell phone was completely inaccessible to my rear. No help there.

    What to do? I figured that if I could fall onto my back, I might be able to distribute my weight over a larger surface area. With no pressure on my feet, maybe I would stop sinking at least, then figure out a way to free my legs. That seemed my only good option, but if so I needed to act fast, because once my knees went below the mud I would be unable to bend backwards. I really had a short time to decide.

    The shotgun and GPS got tossed behind me towards the shore the best I could manage, I flopped on my back, and was delighted to see that I had indeed stopped sinking. It took me about 5 minutes to get my legs free; working them up at a 45 degree angle I was able to slowly liberate them from the bog.

    Still, I was wet from the waist down, sweating from exertion all over, exhausted, and it was below freezing.

    I thought about quitting the hunt right then. Three things kept me going. First, I’m not hunting for myself, but for a family friend who cannot digest most meat (beef, pork, or chicken) only fish or venison. To quit would have deprived her of precious food. Second, work demands last year made me cancel all but two hunting trips, I only had one under my belt this year, and next week’s trip I already know I had to cancel because of work. I was frustrated. And third, by now I was sorta mad at the circumstances. I was determined to not let them get the best of me. The hunt WAS going to go on.

    But I did need help. Once on terra firma I was able to dig my cell phone out, call the ranger station, and slowly stumble back to my truck, where I met the rangers who helped me get to Stand #6.

    In hindsight I had three strikes against me: 1) the rangers admitted the poster-board was incorrectly marked, 2) the GPS coordinates provided were also incorrect (see photo below taken while I was sitting in the right tree), and 3) one of the rangers speculated that anti-hunters probably pulled off the ID marker that would have indicated the original turn to the right was in fact Stand #6.

    Jug Bay deer stand 6.jpg

    With all of that, did I get a deer? Yes! Despite the fact it was past dawn when I finally got completely set up, I assumed all the deer in the area had vanished with all the commotion, with just 40 minutes to go before the hunt was over, I detected motion to my right rear up close. But I couldn’t be sure without shifting my body clockwise. If it was a deer, after all of this, no way I was going to chance that and spook him off.

    Within a few seconds I could tell it was a deer - a spike buck. He wasn’t as large as I would have liked, but after everything that happened, if I could, he was going down. Besides to not go after him was to deny my friend food that she needed.

    The next problem I faced was that I’m right-handed, and he was coming from my 5:30 position. His closest visible point of approach was going to be at my 4:00 position, which means that my left hand would not be well positioned to properly stabilize my shotgun (unless I rotated my body, which I was NOT going to do). It would have to be a very awkward shot, shooting backwards with mostly my right hand only.

    Down rotates the gun, iron sights positioned where he would walk into the best possible target location, off goes the safety, reparatory pause, squeeze the trigger: bang.



    I’ve been very fortunate before. Most deer I’ve shot in the past dropped right where I hit them. One ran 20ish yards then fell over. This one bolted, ran into heavy trees and vegetation where I lost track of him, and disappeared.

    I had trouble finding and tracking a blood trail, so I began a grid search. I took me almost an hour before I found him. He actually hadn’t run very far, maybe only 50 yards, but he had taken a left turn at the last minute and was hidden behind some bushes where he stopped and collapsed.

    As you can see below he was a two point antlered buck.

    Jug Bay deer 1.jpg

    The bog mud on the stock of my shotgun, now dried, is still visible.

    Jug Bay deer 2.jpg

    I hit him a few inches high and to the rear from where I was aiming, but considering all that went on that morning, I really wasn’t in a position to complain.

    Field dressed he came in at 72 pounds. I would have liked more, but again considering the circumstances, I'll take what I can get.

    Jug Bay deer 3.jpg

    My thanks to the rangers from AACO. They were out driving the deer and without that I doubt I would have harvested one. They helped me carry gear after I was physically at my limits, and got me where I needed to go. They couldn’t have been nicer to me. Had they not helped me out, the day would have been lost.

    Instead, I have an experience I’ll never forget, I helped with the deer management program, got out in the woods, had a day off the pressures from work, and most importantly bagged some food for a friend who really needs it. Who could complain about that?
     

    outrider58

    Eats Bacon Raw
    MDS Supporter
    Jul 29, 2014
    49,818
    The night before my last hunt, my wife joked, “Don’t fall out of the tree!” She knows that’s a big killer of hunters, or getting shot like Dick Cheney, but I never dreamed other perils awaited me.

    I was feeling pretty good Thursday. I had never scouted or hunted Stand #6 at AACO’s Jug Bay before, but it had a good reputation.

    From the big poster-board map at the ranger’s station I knew access to #6 was at the end of an access road, around a farmer’s field, approaching from the SW. But as I drove along the road, I noticed a reflective marker indicating #6 access. I thought that was odd, since I hadn’t reached the farm yet, and I was SE not SW of the GPS coordinates provided by the rangers. But I stopped the truck, got my gear, and began the hike in anyway.

    As I walked north, reflective markers were on the right; a ravine appeared to my left. My GPS said I needed to go NW so figured the path would lead me to a place to cross the ravine. I was surprised to see a reflective arrow pointing to the east. “That has to be Stand #7,” I thought, since by now #7 should have been ENE and #6 should have been WNW.

    On I hiked. The reflectors were no more. I searched for a ravine crossing but could find none. “I must have missed a marker somewhere,” so I backed up and began a methodical search for markers or a crossing. No joy, and the clock towards dawn was ticking.

    Giving up, I decided to use the path indicated on the ranger’s poster board, and hiked back to the truck. More time ticked by. I got to the truck, loaded my gear once more, drove to the end of the road, unloaded again, got my gear situated, then began hiking north along the farmer’s field. The ravine was now to my right.

    No reflectors. Now I was concerned, and the sky was beginning to lighten as the penumbra approached. As I hiked north GPS navigation showed Stand #6 first to the NE, then ENE, and finally almost due east. There was no obvious way to cross the ravine.

    Seeing no choice and running out of time, I decided to find my own way to cross the ravine. I worked my way down the slope, only to find a stream at the bottom, approximately 12’ wide, with running water no more than 1” deep. Easy-peasy to cross, I thought.

    One step in. My right foot sank into the mud over my foot. Two steps. Now my left foot was immersed as well. But I have great waterproof boots – who cares about them getting muddy, right? It was hard to pull my right foot out to take the third step. It immediately sank halfway up my boots! “A bog!” I thought, but now I was off balance and pulled my left foot out and placed it side-by-side, where it too sank in deep.

    I tried to back up, but couldn’t. The suction under my boots was too strong. When I took the weight off one foot to try (unsuccessfully) to pull the other foot out, the full weight of my body, tree climber, backpack, gun, etc. just sank my remaining foot deeper in the mud. Trying to extricate myself was making it worse not better.

    Within 5 seconds the mud was over the top of my boots, mid-shin. Within 10 seconds I had sunk to just below my knees and was hopelessly stuck.

    All my life I thought quicksand was just something to spice up Tarzan movies, or at best created under contrived conditions. I had a lot to learn.

    I realized I was stuck in the mud, sinking fast, no one knew where I was, I was too far to be heard by using my emergency whistle, and no one would think to look for me until maybe an hour or two after the hunt ended. When they did, they’d probably start the search at the other path, marked for #6. Who knows if or when they would look for me where I actually was? Option 1 was to keep sinking into the bog, facetiously wondering if I might become a fossil (rapid deposition being essential for almost all fossils; slow silting over long periods of time is a common myth as the animal will decompose or be eaten by scavengers). Option 2 was to bottom out (hopefully) but remain stuck, with hypothermia a concern as it was subfreezing temperatures and I was submerged in water up to my knees and still sinking. I didn’t like either of those choices. I thought about my cell phone, but I had my gun in one hand, the GPS in the other hand, a tree climber on my back, my backpack tied behind that, and my cell phone was completely inaccessible to my rear. No help there.

    What to do? I figured that if I could fall onto my back, I might be able to distribute my weight over a larger surface area. With no pressure on my feet, maybe I would stop sinking at least, then figure out a way to free my legs. That seemed my only good option, but if so I needed to act fast, because once my knees went below the mud I would be unable to bend backwards. I really had a short time to decide.

    The shotgun and GPS got tossed behind me towards the shore the best I could manage, I flopped on my back, and was delighted to see that I had indeed stopped sinking. It took me about 5 minutes to get my legs free; working them up at a 45 degree angle I was able to slowly liberate them from the bog.

    Still, I was wet from the waist down, sweating from exertion all over, exhausted, and it was below freezing.

    I thought about quitting the hunt right then. Three things kept me going. First, I’m not hunting for myself, but for a family friend who cannot digest most meat (beef, pork, or chicken) only fish or venison. To quit would have deprived her of precious food. Second, work demands last year made me cancel all but two hunting trips, I only had one under my belt this year, and next week’s trip I already know I had to cancel because of work. I was frustrated. And third, by now I was sorta mad at the circumstances. I was determined to not let them get the best of me. The hunt WAS going to go on.

    But I did need help. Once on terra firma I was able to dig my cell phone out, call the ranger station, and slowly stumble back to my truck, where I met the rangers who helped me get to Stand #6.

    In hindsight I had three strikes against me: 1) the rangers admitted the poster-board was incorrectly marked, 2) the GPS coordinates provided were also incorrect (see photo below taken while I was sitting in the right tree), and 3) one of the rangers speculated that anti-hunters probably pulled off the ID marker that would have indicated the original turn to the right was in fact Stand #6.

    View attachment 248655

    With all of that, did I get a deer? Yes! Despite the fact it was past dawn when I finally got completely set up, I assumed all the deer in the area had vanished with all the commotion, with just 40 minutes to go before the hunt was over, I detected motion to my right rear up close. But I couldn’t be sure without shifting my body clockwise. If it was a deer, after all of this, no way I was going to chance that and spook him off.

    Within a few seconds I could tell it was a deer - a spike buck. He wasn’t as large as I would have liked, but after everything that happened, if I could, he was going down. Besides to not go after him was to deny my friend food that she needed.

    The next problem I faced was that I’m right-handed, and he was coming from my 5:30 position. His closest visible point of approach was going to be at my 4:00 position, which means that my left hand would not be well positioned to properly stabilize my shotgun (unless I rotated my body, which I was NOT going to do). It would have to be a very awkward shot, shooting backwards with mostly my right hand only.

    Down rotates the gun, iron sights positioned where he would walk into the best possible target location, off goes the safety, reparatory pause, squeeze the trigger: bang.



    I’ve been very fortunate before. Most deer I’ve shot in the past dropped right where I hit them. One ran 20ish yards then fell over. This one bolted, ran into heavy trees and vegetation where I lost track of him, and disappeared.

    I had trouble finding and tracking a blood trail, so I began a grid search. I took me almost an hour before I found him. He actually hadn’t run very far, maybe only 50 yards, but he had taken a left turn at the last minute and was hidden behind some bushes where he stopped and collapsed.

    As you can see below he was a two point antlered buck.

    View attachment 248652

    The bog mud on the stock of my shotgun, now dried, is still visible.

    View attachment 248653

    I hit him a few inches high and to the rear from where I was aiming, but considering all that went on that morning, I really wasn’t in a position to complain.

    Field dressed he came in at 72 pounds. I would have liked more, but again considering the circumstances, I'll take what I can get.

    View attachment 248654

    My thanks to the rangers from AACO. They were out driving the deer and without that I doubt I would have harvested one. They helped me carry gear after I was physically at my limits, and got me where I needed to go. They couldn’t have been nicer to me. Had they not helped me out, the day would have been lost.

    Instead, I have an experience I’ll never forget, I helped with the deer management program, got out in the woods, had a day off the pressures from work, and most importantly bagged some food for a friend who really needs it. Who could complain about that?
    Holy crap!

    Best deer story I've ever read. That was one well earned deer and for a great cause!

    Congratulations aray. Way to stick to your 'guns'.

    Sent from my SM-G965U using Tapatalk
     

    willtill

    The Dude Abides
    MDS Supporter
    May 15, 2007
    24,337
    That was really quite a nice story and experience to read Ray. Glad that you were able to ultimately take a deer. :thumbsup:

    Tenacity should be your middle name Sir. :)

    .
     

    Uncle Duke

    Ultimate Member
    MDS Supporter
    Feb 2, 2013
    11,667
    Not Far Enough from the City
    The night before my last hunt, my wife joked, “Don’t fall out of the tree!” She knows that’s a big killer of hunters, or getting shot like Dick Cheney, but I never dreamed other perils awaited me.

    I was feeling pretty good Thursday. I had never scouted or hunted Stand #6 at AACO’s Jug Bay before, but it had a good reputation.

    From the big poster-board map at the ranger’s station I knew access to #6 was at the end of an access road, around a farmer’s field, approaching from the SW. But as I drove along the road, I noticed a reflective marker indicating #6 access. I thought that was odd, since I hadn’t reached the farm yet, and I was SE not SW of the GPS coordinates provided by the rangers. But I stopped the truck, got my gear, and began the hike in anyway.

    As I walked north, reflective markers were on the right; a ravine appeared to my left. My GPS said I needed to go NW so figured the path would lead me to a place to cross the ravine. I was surprised to see a reflective arrow pointing to the east. “That has to be Stand #7,” I thought, since by now #7 should have been ENE and #6 should have been WNW.

    On I hiked. The reflectors were no more. I searched for a ravine crossing but could find none. “I must have missed a marker somewhere,” so I backed up and began a methodical search for markers or a crossing. No joy, and the clock towards dawn was ticking.

    Giving up, I decided to use the path indicated on the ranger’s poster board, and hiked back to the truck. More time ticked by. I got to the truck, loaded my gear once more, drove to the end of the road, unloaded again, got my gear situated, then began hiking north along the farmer’s field. The ravine was now to my right.

    No reflectors. Now I was concerned, and the sky was beginning to lighten as the penumbra approached. As I hiked north GPS navigation showed Stand #6 first to the NE, then ENE, and finally almost due east. There was no obvious way to cross the ravine.

    Seeing no choice and running out of time, I decided to find my own way to cross the ravine. I worked my way down the slope, only to find a stream at the bottom, approximately 12’ wide, with running water no more than 1” deep. Easy-peasy to cross, I thought.

    One step in. My right foot sank into the mud over my foot. Two steps. Now my left foot was immersed as well. But I have great waterproof boots – who cares about them getting muddy, right? It was hard to pull my right foot out to take the third step. It immediately sank halfway up my boots! “A bog!” I thought, but now I was off balance and pulled my left foot out and placed it side-by-side, where it too sank in deep.

    I tried to back up, but couldn’t. The suction under my boots was too strong. When I took the weight off one foot to try (unsuccessfully) to pull the other foot out, the full weight of my body, tree climber, backpack, gun, etc. just sank my remaining foot deeper in the mud. Trying to extricate myself was making it worse not better.

    Within 5 seconds the mud was over the top of my boots, mid-shin. Within 10 seconds I had sunk to just below my knees and was hopelessly stuck.

    All my life I thought quicksand was just something to spice up Tarzan movies, or at best created under contrived conditions. I had a lot to learn.

    I realized I was stuck in the mud, sinking fast, no one knew where I was, I was too far to be heard by using my emergency whistle, and no one would think to look for me until maybe an hour or two after the hunt ended. When they did, they’d probably start the search at the other path, marked for #6. Who knows if or when they would look for me where I actually was? Option 1 was to keep sinking into the bog, facetiously wondering if I might become a fossil (rapid deposition being essential for almost all fossils; slow silting over long periods of time is a common myth as the animal will decompose or be eaten by scavengers). Option 2 was to bottom out (hopefully) but remain stuck, with hypothermia a concern as it was subfreezing temperatures and I was submerged in water up to my knees and still sinking. I didn’t like either of those choices. I thought about my cell phone, but I had my gun in one hand, the GPS in the other hand, a tree climber on my back, my backpack tied behind that, and my cell phone was completely inaccessible to my rear. No help there.

    What to do? I figured that if I could fall onto my back, I might be able to distribute my weight over a larger surface area. With no pressure on my feet, maybe I would stop sinking at least, then figure out a way to free my legs. That seemed my only good option, but if so I needed to act fast, because once my knees went below the mud I would be unable to bend backwards. I really had a short time to decide.

    The shotgun and GPS got tossed behind me towards the shore the best I could manage, I flopped on my back, and was delighted to see that I had indeed stopped sinking. It took me about 5 minutes to get my legs free; working them up at a 45 degree angle I was able to slowly liberate them from the bog.

    Still, I was wet from the waist down, sweating from exertion all over, exhausted, and it was below freezing.

    I thought about quitting the hunt right then. Three things kept me going. First, I’m not hunting for myself, but for a family friend who cannot digest most meat (beef, pork, or chicken) only fish or venison. To quit would have deprived her of precious food. Second, work demands last year made me cancel all but two hunting trips, I only had one under my belt this year, and next week’s trip I already know I had to cancel because of work. I was frustrated. And third, by now I was sorta mad at the circumstances. I was determined to not let them get the best of me. The hunt WAS going to go on.

    But I did need help. Once on terra firma I was able to dig my cell phone out, call the ranger station, and slowly stumble back to my truck, where I met the rangers who helped me get to Stand #6.

    In hindsight I had three strikes against me: 1) the rangers admitted the poster-board was incorrectly marked, 2) the GPS coordinates provided were also incorrect (see photo below taken while I was sitting in the right tree), and 3) one of the rangers speculated that anti-hunters probably pulled off the ID marker that would have indicated the original turn to the right was in fact Stand #6.

    View attachment 248655

    With all of that, did I get a deer? Yes! Despite the fact it was past dawn when I finally got completely set up, I assumed all the deer in the area had vanished with all the commotion, with just 40 minutes to go before the hunt was over, I detected motion to my right rear up close. But I couldn’t be sure without shifting my body clockwise. If it was a deer, after all of this, no way I was going to chance that and spook him off.

    Within a few seconds I could tell it was a deer - a spike buck. He wasn’t as large as I would have liked, but after everything that happened, if I could, he was going down. Besides to not go after him was to deny my friend food that she needed.

    The next problem I faced was that I’m right-handed, and he was coming from my 5:30 position. His closest visible point of approach was going to be at my 4:00 position, which means that my left hand would not be well positioned to properly stabilize my shotgun (unless I rotated my body, which I was NOT going to do). It would have to be a very awkward shot, shooting backwards with mostly my right hand only.

    Down rotates the gun, iron sights positioned where he would walk into the best possible target location, off goes the safety, reparatory pause, squeeze the trigger: bang.



    I’ve been very fortunate before. Most deer I’ve shot in the past dropped right where I hit them. One ran 20ish yards then fell over. This one bolted, ran into heavy trees and vegetation where I lost track of him, and disappeared.

    I had trouble finding and tracking a blood trail, so I began a grid search. I took me almost an hour before I found him. He actually hadn’t run very far, maybe only 50 yards, but he had taken a left turn at the last minute and was hidden behind some bushes where he stopped and collapsed.

    As you can see below he was a two point antlered buck.

    View attachment 248652

    The bog mud on the stock of my shotgun, now dried, is still visible.

    View attachment 248653

    I hit him a few inches high and to the rear from where I was aiming, but considering all that went on that morning, I really wasn’t in a position to complain.

    Field dressed he came in at 72 pounds. I would have liked more, but again considering the circumstances, I'll take what I can get.

    View attachment 248654

    My thanks to the rangers from AACO. They were out driving the deer and without that I doubt I would have harvested one. They helped me carry gear after I was physically at my limits, and got me where I needed to go. They couldn’t have been nicer to me. Had they not helped me out, the day would have been lost.

    Instead, I have an experience I’ll never forget, I helped with the deer management program, got out in the woods, had a day off the pressures from work, and most importantly bagged some food for a friend who really needs it. Who could complain about that?


    Outstanding post, and a treat to read!

    Congrats on your well earned success!
     

    pbharvey

    Habitual Testifier
    MDS Supporter
    Dec 27, 2012
    30,158
    Great story Aray!

    Also in case anyone else is as dumb as me:
     

    Attachments

    • 9B5B303B-B3D3-4DC1-8E3C-420AA349DC05.jpg
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    bigmanindc

    Active Member
    Nov 3, 2018
    463
    DMV
    The night before my last hunt, my wife joked, “Don’t fall out of the tree!” She knows that’s a big killer of hunters, or getting shot like Dick Cheney, but I never dreamed other perils awaited me.

    I was feeling pretty good Thursday. I had never scouted or hunted Stand #6 at AACO’s Jug Bay before, but it had a good reputation.

    From the big poster-board map at the ranger’s station I knew access to #6 was at the end of an access road, around a farmer’s field, approaching from the SW. But as I drove along the road, I noticed a reflective marker indicating #6 access. I thought that was odd, since I hadn’t reached the farm yet, and I was SE not SW of the GPS coordinates provided by the rangers. But I stopped the truck, got my gear, and began the hike in anyway.

    As I walked north, reflective markers were on the right; a ravine appeared to my left. My GPS said I needed to go NW so figured the path would lead me to a place to cross the ravine. I was surprised to see a reflective arrow pointing to the east. “That has to be Stand #7,” I thought, since by now #7 should have been ENE and #6 should have been WNW.

    On I hiked. The reflectors were no more. I searched for a ravine crossing but could find none. “I must have missed a marker somewhere,” so I backed up and began a methodical search for markers or a crossing. No joy, and the clock towards dawn was ticking.

    Giving up, I decided to use the path indicated on the ranger’s poster board, and hiked back to the truck. More time ticked by. I got to the truck, loaded my gear once more, drove to the end of the road, unloaded again, got my gear situated, then began hiking north along the farmer’s field. The ravine was now to my right.

    No reflectors. Now I was concerned, and the sky was beginning to lighten as the penumbra approached. As I hiked north GPS navigation showed Stand #6 first to the NE, then ENE, and finally almost due east. There was no obvious way to cross the ravine.

    Seeing no choice and running out of time, I decided to find my own way to cross the ravine. I worked my way down the slope, only to find a stream at the bottom, approximately 12’ wide, with running water no more than 1” deep. Easy-peasy to cross, I thought.

    One step in. My right foot sank into the mud over my foot. Two steps. Now my left foot was immersed as well. But I have great waterproof boots – who cares about them getting muddy, right? It was hard to pull my right foot out to take the third step. It immediately sank halfway up my boots! “A bog!” I thought, but now I was off balance and pulled my left foot out and placed it side-by-side, where it too sank in deep.

    I tried to back up, but couldn’t. The suction under my boots was too strong. When I took the weight off one foot to try (unsuccessfully) to pull the other foot out, the full weight of my body, tree climber, backpack, gun, etc. just sank my remaining foot deeper in the mud. Trying to extricate myself was making it worse not better.

    Within 5 seconds the mud was over the top of my boots, mid-shin. Within 10 seconds I had sunk to just below my knees and was hopelessly stuck.

    All my life I thought quicksand was just something to spice up Tarzan movies, or at best created under contrived conditions. I had a lot to learn.

    I realized I was stuck in the mud, sinking fast, no one knew where I was, I was too far to be heard by using my emergency whistle, and no one would think to look for me until maybe an hour or two after the hunt ended. When they did, they’d probably start the search at the other path, marked for #6. Who knows if or when they would look for me where I actually was? Option 1 was to keep sinking into the bog, facetiously wondering if I might become a fossil (rapid deposition being essential for almost all fossils; slow silting over long periods of time is a common myth as the animal will decompose or be eaten by scavengers). Option 2 was to bottom out (hopefully) but remain stuck, with hypothermia a concern as it was subfreezing temperatures and I was submerged in water up to my knees and still sinking. I didn’t like either of those choices. I thought about my cell phone, but I had my gun in one hand, the GPS in the other hand, a tree climber on my back, my backpack tied behind that, and my cell phone was completely inaccessible to my rear. No help there.

    What to do? I figured that if I could fall onto my back, I might be able to distribute my weight over a larger surface area. With no pressure on my feet, maybe I would stop sinking at least, then figure out a way to free my legs. That seemed my only good option, but if so I needed to act fast, because once my knees went below the mud I would be unable to bend backwards. I really had a short time to decide.

    The shotgun and GPS got tossed behind me towards the shore the best I could manage, I flopped on my back, and was delighted to see that I had indeed stopped sinking. It took me about 5 minutes to get my legs free; working them up at a 45 degree angle I was able to slowly liberate them from the bog.

    Still, I was wet from the waist down, sweating from exertion all over, exhausted, and it was below freezing.

    I thought about quitting the hunt right then. Three things kept me going. First, I’m not hunting for myself, but for a family friend who cannot digest most meat (beef, pork, or chicken) only fish or venison. To quit would have deprived her of precious food. Second, work demands last year made me cancel all but two hunting trips, I only had one under my belt this year, and next week’s trip I already know I had to cancel because of work. I was frustrated. And third, by now I was sorta mad at the circumstances. I was determined to not let them get the best of me. The hunt WAS going to go on.

    But I did need help. Once on terra firma I was able to dig my cell phone out, call the ranger station, and slowly stumble back to my truck, where I met the rangers who helped me get to Stand #6.

    In hindsight I had three strikes against me: 1) the rangers admitted the poster-board was incorrectly marked, 2) the GPS coordinates provided were also incorrect (see photo below taken while I was sitting in the right tree), and 3) one of the rangers speculated that anti-hunters probably pulled off the ID marker that would have indicated the original turn to the right was in fact Stand #6.

    View attachment 248655

    With all of that, did I get a deer? Yes! Despite the fact it was past dawn when I finally got completely set up, I assumed all the deer in the area had vanished with all the commotion, with just 40 minutes to go before the hunt was over, I detected motion to my right rear up close. But I couldn’t be sure without shifting my body clockwise. If it was a deer, after all of this, no way I was going to chance that and spook him off.

    Within a few seconds I could tell it was a deer - a spike buck. He wasn’t as large as I would have liked, but after everything that happened, if I could, he was going down. Besides to not go after him was to deny my friend food that she needed.

    The next problem I faced was that I’m right-handed, and he was coming from my 5:30 position. His closest visible point of approach was going to be at my 4:00 position, which means that my left hand would not be well positioned to properly stabilize my shotgun (unless I rotated my body, which I was NOT going to do). It would have to be a very awkward shot, shooting backwards with mostly my right hand only.

    Down rotates the gun, iron sights positioned where he would walk into the best possible target location, off goes the safety, reparatory pause, squeeze the trigger: bang.



    I’ve been very fortunate before. Most deer I’ve shot in the past dropped right where I hit them. One ran 20ish yards then fell over. This one bolted, ran into heavy trees and vegetation where I lost track of him, and disappeared.

    I had trouble finding and tracking a blood trail, so I began a grid search. I took me almost an hour before I found him. He actually hadn’t run very far, maybe only 50 yards, but he had taken a left turn at the last minute and was hidden behind some bushes where he stopped and collapsed.

    As you can see below he was a two point antlered buck.

    View attachment 248652

    The bog mud on the stock of my shotgun, now dried, is still visible.

    View attachment 248653

    I hit him a few inches high and to the rear from where I was aiming, but considering all that went on that morning, I really wasn’t in a position to complain.

    Field dressed he came in at 72 pounds. I would have liked more, but again considering the circumstances, I'll take what I can get.

    View attachment 248654

    My thanks to the rangers from AACO. They were out driving the deer and without that I doubt I would have harvested one. They helped me carry gear after I was physically at my limits, and got me where I needed to go. They couldn’t have been nicer to me. Had they not helped me out, the day would have been lost.

    Instead, I have an experience I’ll never forget, I helped with the deer management program, got out in the woods, had a day off the pressures from work, and most importantly bagged some food for a friend who really needs it. Who could complain about that?


    Great story, halfway through the story I thought to myself ha you are not gonna get me this is fake at the end its gonna say ha got you so I started skimming through it. As I got further into it I thought hold up this might be real so had to go back and start over. I expect to read about this in some outdoor magazine in the near future.
     

    CaptChaos

    Active Member
    MDS Supporter
    Mar 1, 2008
    751
    Calvert County, MD
    Wow, awesome story aray. Even posted a video! That was a helluva shot from where I’m sitting. What kinda camera is that? Neat!

    I got stuck in mud in a similar situation a few years ago and it was not fun at all. I too thought quicksand was a bunch of nonsense—until that day. You are a better man than me though, I gave up the hunt after I was able to drag myself out with a barely reachable fallen tree. I noticed some time after (yeah, after missing a few deer!) that I must have cracked my gun stock when I threw it that day.
     

    Bob A

    όυ φροντισ
    MDS Supporter
    Patriot Picket
    Nov 11, 2009
    30,691
    I'm glad you survived your day in the woods. Sounded a bit touch-and-go for a while.
     

    aray

    Ultimate Member
    Jun 6, 2010
    5,294
    MD -> KY
    Thanks for all of your kinds words. As I was typing this in last night my wife told me no one was going to read it because "it's too long!" I'm gratified that folks enjoyed the story. It's sorta fun to retell now, but believe me it was anything but fun living through it at the time!

    Great story Aray!

    Also in case anyone else is as dumb as me:

    LOL I had to look up "penumbra" too the first first time I read the word. Ironically I didn't read about it in my physics or astronomy classes; I first encountered the word when reading the Roe v. Wade SCOTUS opinion. Justice Blackmun admitted a right to abortion wasn't found in the Constitution, but asserted it could be found in the "penumbras of the Bill of Rights". :sad20:

    Wow, awesome story aray. Even posted a video! That was a helluva shot from where I’m sitting. What kinda camera is that? Neat!

    I got stuck in mud in a similar situation a few years ago and it was not fun at all. I too thought quicksand was a bunch of nonsense—until that day. You are a better man than me though, I gave up the hunt after I was able to drag myself out with a barely reachable fallen tree. I noticed some time after (yeah, after missing a few deer!) that I must have cracked my gun stock when I threw it that day.

    The camera is a TN Shot Trak HD Action Gun Camera and I have it mounted to my gun with the UTG Universal Single-rail Shotgun Barrel Mount.

    I love it. You can see it on the barrel in this photo:

    Jug Bay deer 2.jpg

    Interesting that you had a very similar experience to me. Who knew quicksand was real thing? Glad you got out though. As far as I know, I didn't damage my gun. I'll inspect it carefully as soon as I clean it - which should have already happened, but I've been crazy busy since then (sigh).
     

    marko

    Banned
    BANNED!!!
    Jan 28, 2009
    7,048
    Yeah Law School has a saying "emanations from the penumbra". G. Gordon Liddy used to mock it.
    I've gotten stuck in muck fishing with waders or hip boots on, but it was always summer. I could have easily just undid my stuff and gotten out.
    Had to scare the crap out of you in these temps.
     

    rob257

    Active Member
    Jan 17, 2013
    238
    North Central Carroll Co.
    I helped my Handy Man

    He's a good guy, not much work right now because of him having a "minny" stroke.
    Shook out my Browning BLR 257 Rbts. and took two (2) Does for him this morning from my shop porch. Him, his wife and kids are butchering right now. His wife has Deer liver & Onions cooking on the shop woodstove (Gravy) right now. A crockpot of veggies stuff to boot.

    Good folks, good food. Good rifle:thumbsup:
     

    Archeryrob

    Undecided on a great many things
    Mar 7, 2013
    3,064
    Washington Co. - Fairplay
    I butchered the deer I shot with the Hornady SST rounds, that blew the heart open. I thought it was good because it killed her quick. Well ... butchering was fricking messy and changed my mind. Blood jelly in all the membrane layers. The shock the round delivers kills, but it also destroys a lot of meat!!

    It might be back to core-lokts or using the muzzle loader. :shocked4: What a mess it made.
     

    outrider58

    Eats Bacon Raw
    MDS Supporter
    Jul 29, 2014
    49,818
    I butchered the deer I shot with the Hornady SST rounds, that blew the heart open. I thought it was good because it killed her quick. Well ... butchering was fricking messy and changed my mind. Blood jelly in all the membrane layers. The shock the round delivers kills, but it also destroys a lot of meat!!

    It might be back to core-lokts or using the muzzle loader. :shocked4: What a mess it made.

    I'm trying to go with the high shoulder shot. Done properly, you miss the neck, shoulder, and blackstrap, and the deer drops instantly.
     

    Archeryrob

    Undecided on a great many things
    Mar 7, 2013
    3,064
    Washington Co. - Fairplay
    I'm trying to go with the high shoulder shot. Done properly, you miss the neck, shoulder, and blackstrap, and the deer drops instantly.

    Yea, I am guessing most people liking the shock value don;t butcher themselves and do not now the amount meat damage done. I had one hole in and no exit wound as it got the leg bone too.

    There was blood jelly between all membrane layers in the chest and neck of the same side. A damn swimming pool of blood once I opened the diaphragm but only one spot of blood on the ground before I saw her 50 yards down. No blood out side and total havoc inside.
     

    kstone803

    Official Meat Getter
    Feb 25, 2009
    3,924
    Ltown in the SMC
    I butchered the deer I shot with the Hornady SST rounds, that blew the heart open. I thought it was good because it killed her quick. Well ... butchering was fricking messy and changed my mind. Blood jelly in all the membrane layers. The shock the round delivers kills, but it also destroys a lot of meat!!

    It might be back to core-lokts or using the muzzle loader. :shocked4: What a mess it made.

    Core lokt forever! But really that's all i use. One through the neck and down they go for good.
     

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