Hunting Season 2018: Snipe Island, Part 2

Before reading this blog post, please take time to read Part 1:

Hunting Season 2018: Snipe Island, Part 1 

Chapter 8, Saturday Nov. 10th: Day 8.

Dad and I noticed that the deer were moving early in the morning. It was so hot in the afternoon that nothing was moving from 10 AM until 7 PM. 

So we decided to get up extra early. In this case 4:30 in the morning. That put me in my tree stand at 6:55 AM Saturday morning. During all the years I have been hunting I have had great luck seeing and taking game at 7:04 AM. In order to do that I have to be in the woods early. I'm not going to lie. It can be mentally tough to get up that early.

At 8:10 AM I looked out, and from behind a tree I saw the same doe that I thought I had been seeing (or so I thought!) It walked behind two trees in my sightline. I should note that it was walking from my right to left, slightly coming towards me.

I leaned right in my tree stand to try and see it behind the tree. I couldn't see it around the tree. I then leaned left. Then right again. And finally to the left. It then came from behind the trees.

At this point it was facing towards me. I put my scope up on it, and the first thing I thought was, "IT HAS ANTLERS????" My next thought was, "SHOOT ADRIAN! THOSE ANTLERS HAVE A SPLIT!"
I completely rushed my shot, but my crosshairs were right on the deer. I pulled the trigger, and the deer literally flipped backwards. As in, it's front hooves came off the ground, and it flipped clean over.

When it hit the ground it didn't move. My shot was what they call a, "one and done." One shot, and it killed the deer clean. That's when I remembered I needed to eject my shell. I was using my newish rifle, a Rugar RAR .308 (a bolt action rifle), not my old shotgun which was semi-automatic.

I pulled back on the bolt, but didn't come back far enough with it. Somehow my old shell got flipped around backwards, and jammed up my gun when I shoved the bolt forwards. I pulled my bolt back again, and grabbed the shell, and went to toss it. That's when I realized I may want to keep it for sentimental reasons. That, or I could re-load it. So I put the shell in my pocket.

I focused back on the deer. I saw the chest move three times, but after that it stopped. The deer's feet never kicked and the head never came up. I had made a great shot. Not to mention, this was my first shot I ever took with this gun while hunting.

It then occurred to me that Dad might want to know what was going on. I got on my CB radio, and called for him. He asked, "Was that me that shot?" I told him I had a deer down, and yes, I had actually hit it. He was glad to hear that. He told me to be careful as there was another hunter in the woods.

Later on, when Dad came up to where I was, he told me that another hunter passed by him just five minutes before I shot. He wasn't sure if it was me or the other guy who had shot.

But back to the story. So I climbed down my tree stand. I tied my red ribbons around the trees as I made my way up to the deer. I carefully walked up on the deer, and to my relief it was completely dead. I didn't want to walk up on a wounded animal.

I came around, and grabbed the antlers. One of them was buried in the soft dirt, but when I started counting the tines I was surprised that it was a six pointer. It was the ugliest six pointer I had ever seen, but it was a true six pointer. I knew immediately I was not going to mount it's head.

I checked out where the bullet had hit. The deer was somewhat facing me, leaning to my left. My bullet caught it high in the ribcage. From what I could tell my bullet went through the lungs, near the heart, and came out near the back of the deer on the other side. 

I counted my steps back towards my tree stand. I wanted to be sure how far the deer was from me. It was exactly 31 steps. I had actually managed to kill my last deer (back in 1995,) as well as one hog (1990) at 31 steps. It's actually one of those weird coincidences.

I met up with Dad and brought him to where the deer was. I was so in shock I had forgotten to do a touchdown/successful deer hunt dance. Before this I had only shot one deer, and that was back in 1995. Before that I had missed my first three deer. So here it was 23 years later, and I was just in shock. 

Dad wanted to gut the deer there, but I said, "Whoa!" I said the rules said that we had to bring the deer in whole. Dad said he wasn't so sure about that. He asked if I had a copy of the rules. I said, "In fact, I did."

I opened them up and found the section that said, "Deer and turkeys must be transported to the check station with their heads and sex intact." I said that meant we needed to keep the deer whole. So we agreed to do that.

Dad took his tree stand, gun, and my backpack to the truck. I alternated between moving my tree stand and gun, and then moving the deer. I would usually move each 50 yards at a time. Dad came back, and said I'd made great progress. He then took my tree stand and gun back to the truck.

Now, there are bears that live in the state park next to Snipe Island. So I kept my pistol on me. Although, I'm more worried about dealing with hogs than I am bears. Bears will run from you. Hogs have a bit of an attitude sometimes.

I ended up dragging the deer back to the main path by the time Dad got back to me. We then dragged the deer down the path one hundred yards at a time. My feet were cramping up on me. It reminded me of when I played football in high school, and had to push the sled around the field.

Dad and I finally made it back to the truck with the deer. We then decided to drink plenty of water and catch our breath. A Chevy truck passed by, and I waved to the guy. I smart-assed asked him, "Have you seen anything? I haven't seen anything all day." Of course, the deer is lying there right in front of the truck.

The guy, who we found out was named Jim, volunteered to take a few photos of Dad, me, and the deer.  Here's the photo he took of us.

We talked for a bit, and he drove on. Dad and I took photos and video of the deer. Next, we rearranged the truck. That let us tie the deer down on the tailgate. As we were ready to leave the guy in the Chevy came back down the road. He said to come on down to his place. He had a boathouse where we could clean the deer out. Most importantly, he had a water hose. How could we say no to that?

We made it to the check station. When we asked David the attendant if we needed to bring the deer in whole he said yes. So I did read the rules correctly. He weighed the deer, and it came in at 104 pounds. That was the second biggest deer to come out this season.

David also removed the jawbone for the game biologists. He took measurements of the antlers and I filled out my information for him. He also gave me a "deer pin" to put on my jacket. They give them out if you take a deer. So I proudly put mine on. Next we loaded the deer up, and tied it down to the truck.

Before we left, I had to witness David putting my name on the "The Game Board." And yes, that's me giving my "Pirate Victory" face while pointing towards the board.

On a side note, one of the hunters from the private hunt club next to Snipe Island shot a hog.  He dropped it off and gave it to David the Check Station Attendant.  It was a big sal hog that looked like it weighed a lot more than my deer.

Jim gave us directions to his house/boathouse that was only a few miles from Snipe Island. His friend Matt joined us. Jim had taken his share of deer and was dang good at butchering them.  Dad and I were extremely thankful for use of the boathouse.  It was located right on the river, and more importantly had a sink and water hose.  

Jim showed us a great way to cut up the deer so it would be easier to cook. I was overly careful in cutting the deer. I had promised the hide and skull to friends so I was taking my time cutting it.

Jim, Matt, Dad and I shared hunting stories, and Jim gave us all sorts of great advice on what cuts to make and where to cut them. Having the sink, cutting board, butchers' chop axe, sharpening stone, and water hose were of great help.

We put the deer in two coolers, thanked Jim and Matt, and took off for the town of Perry. At this point I was still in shock. "Did I actually just shoot a deer?" Yes. Yes I did.

And I did it on the last day of the Quota Hunt season. Matt said I did it the right way. Dad and I scouted the area. We studied what times the deer were moving. We adjusted where we were sitting. We were up at 4:30 AM.

What we DIDN'T do was pay to belong to a hunt camp. The kind that plants food on their property. The kind that sets up feeders to go off at certain times of the day so you know when the game will be there.

We put in a lot of work and it paid off. It was the right way to hunt. I didn't write this earlier, but Dad and I were hunters #1 and 2 today. As in, we were the first two to arrive. And that's on a Saturday. On a Saturday there should be a bunch of hunters in there.

Not many deer were taken this year, but I took one of them. No hogs had been taken at all. I wonder if the hurricane killed a bunch of them, or caused them to move out of the area?


Chapter 9: Saturday Night, Nov. 10th: Day 8.

After successfully harvesting the deer, Dad and I had a celebratory dinner at Deal's Seafood Restaurant and Oyster Bar. 

When we pulled into the parking lot Dad parked next to a truck that had a dog box in the back. As I stepped out of the truck I smelled something horrible. That's when I realized that the dogs had been successful out hunting too.

Yes, the dogs smelled like blood, death, gore and such. They had most likely killed a hog out there.

Before coming to Deal's the truck and dog's owner really needed to wash out the back of the truck as well as let the dogs play (take a bath) in the river.

That's what my Dad used to do for his hunting dogs. He'd let them "play" in the river. It was an all natural bath. And the beagles loved playing in the water.

The dogs started barking at me, or so I thought. Dad then said they could smell all the deer blood on the back of the tailgate. No wonder it stirred them up.

A lot of my friends have never encountered a true hunting dog. They have more than a little bit of attitude. They can come across as not so friendly combined with a, "You're not the boss of me," attitude.

So needless to say I didn't try to pet them. In fact, I've never tried to pet any hunting dog. And you know what? I'm not going to do so... ever.

Chapter 10:  The Following Week.

Dad and I headed back home on Sunday.  After letting the deer soak on ice for a few days I ended up giving quite a bit of it away.  First, I gave some to a musician friend of mine who is also a chef.  Next I gave a bit to my hunting partner John W.  I really wanted to give him some since he wasn't able to make it out hunting due to being sick.  

Next up, I took some meat, the head and cape to my friend Candie.  She had the tools to tan the hide, as well as boil the skull.  She was going to make what's called an English or Rustic mount of the skull.  

I then met up with my cousin to give him some of the deer meat.  He actually went to school to train as a chef.  He has worked in a few restaurants, so he knows the ins and outs of cutting meat off the bone like a butcher.  He was very thankful for it.  

I took the rest and broke it down into meal sized bags.  I put the bags in the freezer to freeze the meat.  I always do that for wild meat.  If it's frozen, and later on cooked all the way through, it's safe to eat.  

The other fun activity was emptying the trailer.  Everything had to come in.  Clothes needed washed.  Dirty dishes also had to come in and be washed.  Blankets, sleeping gear, and pillows all needed to come in and be washed.  Let's face it, there was just a lot of washing.

We also had to empty the back of the truck.  Coolers needed washed out and bleached.  The tree stands also needed washed and bleached since they had deer blood splattered on them.  

I had to think, it's a lot of work to go hunting.  But I have to say, I had a great time this year.  I learned a lot about hunting by simply paying attention to the woods.  I can say without a doubt that by changing up how I hunted I became a better hunter.  This was also the first year that I didn't fall asleep in my tree stand.  Since I actually managed to harvest a deer I have to say this was a completely successful year.