Rick Brockway
With the strong winds and rather unpleasant weather, I didn't go out. I figure there's plenty of time left. Bucks will be far more active as the end of the month approaches and the rut gets into full swing anyway.
A couple of my friends did get out, though, and they came back with some interesting stories.
One fellow sat in his treestand and watched a nice, fat doe run by just a few yards away. Moments later, a small buck came down the same trail with his nose to the ground. Obviously he had found a semi-receptive doe and thought he might get lucky. And lucky he was. Bill let the young buck continue its quest, hoping something bigger would soon follow. Nothing else came down that trail, but there's still plenty of season ahead.
Another friend had a small buck come by his stand late Saturday afternoon. At first he was going to let him pass, but as the spike-horned buck kept milling around, he decided fresh venison steaks would taste rather good. The deer jumped as the arrow left the bow, but it was too late. It was a complete pass through, and the deer ran off through a hedge row and into a field of goldenrod.
Bob waited the usual half-hour before trailing the buck, but the darkness of night soon closed in. He could not find the deer.
In the morning, Bob and his friend headed out to find the young buck. They had no trouble locating it in the early morning sun, but the only thing left was a clean skeleton and clumps of hair. Coyotes had found the deer and devoured everything.
That's common. Several years ago, my father shot a nice buck out in our upper meadow just before dark. He watched it fall and came down to the house to get me. Within a half-hour, we drove up the hill. At least a third of the deer already had been consumed by coyotes. It's seems that the noise of Dad's gun was like ringing the dinner bell.
1 comment:
Around here they say "the sound of a hunter's gun is the grizzly's dinner bell"
Post a Comment