The Un-Dead Deer

I recently watched a video on the internet of a young man who shot a deer and went running to find it. 

After a short search he came upon the nice buck lying on it’s side. He poked it with the barrel of his gun and it didn't move. But as he reached to grab a hold of it, it suddenly jumped up and took off. Scaring the daylights out of the young hunter. You can see it here:

 http://youtu.be/xum24z2R7qM  

My life long friend, fishing and hunting companion Jeff and I had something similar happen to us once. 

It was about 15 years ago, we had both already gotten our bucks opening day and purchased another license so we could continue hunting. We decided to go up to his paternal grandmother’s old farm for an evening hunt. We got there plenty early and were taking our time getting set to head for the woods.

It was a beautiful warm autumn day with almost no breeze. We decided to walk the ridge-line above the Pinebog River to the neighbors homemade bridge, so we could cross the stream without getting our feet wet.  As we neared the ridge we could hear the buzz of the bees from the ancient hives nearby. We went and checked them out and saw that they were as busy as bees always are on a nice sunny day. We had struck up a conversation about the bees and old farm life when we came to a stop at the top of the ridge. Looking out over river, we surveyed  the wide swampy flats. That’s when I saw it. A deer laying on its side all stretched out next to a big old log. My .58 caliber Zouve Musket automatically came off my shoulder, cocked and into firing position. (Since I had meat in the freezer I decided to leave my trusty shotgun home and had  taken my old smoke pole to see if I could get my first deer with it. Here in lower Michigan we are limited to using  either shotguns or muzzle-loaders.)  Jeff spotted the deer about the same time as I and was also into firing position.  One of us asked the other “Is it a buck or doe?” at the same time as the other asked if it was alive.

While I covered it, Jeff rummaged through his pack for his binoculars.  It would be a difficult shot, we were standing about 90 ft. almost straight above the river and it was laying broadside about 30 feet from the bank about 70 yards from us. From all of our target  practice behind my parents house at the old gravel pit, I was pretty confident about how much drop I should give the aim with my .22 but I wasn't using that. My muzzle-loader was sighted in at 100 yards, but with the load I was using it was still on the upwards trajectory and it was pretty close at 400 yards, on the downwards side. I was madly figuring calculations in my head. Around this area things are pretty flat and most of our shots are horizontal and better measured in feet than yards.

What was taking Jeff so long? With all of the noise we had been making I figured that it must be dead or almost. It hadn't so much as twitched an ear and this damn gun was getting heavy. Jeff finally said “It’s a doe and it doesn't seem to be breathing and it's eyes are open.”

Thank God, my arms were turning to jelly.  As seasoned hunters we knew better than to trust a deer with it's eyes closed in death. We had heard the stories and knew enough to put another round in a supposedly dead deer. We talked over what we should do. Jeff wanted me to shoot it, but I would rather save my best shot on a live target since I didn't bring any cleaning equipment along. So we looked for a stone for him to throw. It was close, but still no movement. So we headed for the bridge.

As we came closer we thought for sure was dead. She was a small probably year old deer. But we saw no blood or wounds. Jeff poked it with his gun barrel and then poked it harder. Still not so much as a twitch. Jeff  felt it’s side and found it was still warm. We talked it over and decided to gut it.

Jeff put his gun down and grabbed his knife as I stood guard. Many a big bucks have been missed while hunter's are busy doing other .... things.  As he grabbed it’s leg to turn it over jumped up and took off. Jeff fell backwards and grabbed his gun. It must have been breathing so shallowly that we never detected any signs of it. When she came to life, she headed for the river. It was only about 12 feet wide and about a foot deep there.  She jumped in the water but was stopped by the high bank on the other side. She turned around and stood there looking at us, gasping for breath and shaking,  as we were looking at her through our gun sights for any signs of injury. She looked very healthy and very scared, but little else. I told Jeff to look for blood on the ground where she had been laying. He said there was none, so we let her go.

She must have been very tired or very scared to put up with all of our shenanigans. With all of the noise we had been making and poking, it was unbelievable. When we crossed the bridge she had of opportunity to escape. Even though I had a doe permit and was itching to try out my muzzle loader, I felt good about letting her go.

And the “why's and what if’s” make a much better conversation than any shot I might have made.    

Sometimes while hunting, the experience and the story are worth more than the meat.

Once Upon a Mid-night Weary

 It was a sound that was felt, more than heard.

Like the faint hammering of fists on the oaken door of my soul.

I awoke from my death-like slumber to find a large long haired animal on the floor by my bedside, 

where my golden lab should be, and in the dim early morning light, the opening verse 

     to "The Jabberwocky" on my lips.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

It had been a Hellish night of pain and distorted dreams. 

Fit for writing by Poe, in his madness.

I listened for a repeat of the noise that had awakened me.

And found none.

I moved Bear out of the way with my feet and got out of bed. I stumbled my way on rubbery legs to the front door to let the dogs out. Upon opening the door I found it was raining and neither wanted outside.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!"

There was no sign of vehicle traffic in either driveway and no muddy footprints on the porch.

What was the sound that had disturbed my sleep? I listened for any rumblings of distant thunder and heard none. 

He took his vorpal sword in hand:

Long time the manxome foe he sought—

So rested he by the Tumtum tree,

And stood awhile in thought.

I made my way to the kitchen window and searched for any sign of what had raised me so early from my bed. 

Nothing......

And as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!

Finally I sat before my computer and started to type.

One, two! One, two! and through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

The panic of the offending sound was gone.

Bear and Harley curled at my feet.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"

He chortled in his joy.

Mayhap I shall return to my slumber after all....

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

P.S. - A big Thank You to the late Ms. Isbister, my 10th grade college prep. English teacher. 

           For her stellar performance in the reading of Lewis Carroll's famous poem, which caused me 

           to memorize the horrid thing.

Vampyre Bugs

I don't know what happened this year, but it has been the worst ever for mosquitoes.

We have literally been held captive in our house because of these blood sucking bugs.  When we venure out of the house to take care of the animals we must be covered with insect repellent from head to foot.  Not that it does much good, they just seem to laugh at us and bite anyway.

When we mow the lawn a cloud arises of these winged predators and follows us around the yard, sucking blood at every opportunity. For every gallon of gas I use, I lose about a pint of blood too.

I had to put up warning signs so visitors would be aware of our problem.

We have been battling these miniature vampires since the weather warmed up and the rains started. The woods that surround us are very swampy this year and our local Mosquito Abatement crews have been nowhere to be seen. I called last month to see how soon they would be roadside spraying and they said that they had no idea, but they were working overtime on the problem. They claim that the problem this year is that both the spring and summer varieties are hatching at the same time. 

All I know is that the stores cannot keep insecticides or repellents on the shelves, and no one has seen or heard the Mosquito Abatement trucks spraying. Personally I believe that they are afraid of being caught spraying with only the protection of their light pick-up trucks.

Tonight after taking care of the animals, I got fed up ducking and dodging the avian epidemic and took drastic measures.....

It may not be sporting, but it works.  This one didn't get blasted too badly.  But since I shot it, I can't figure out what to do with it, have it mounted or have it for dinner !!!