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.  

Hunting Season 2018: Snipe Island, Part 1

This year I was lucky to be able to draw Snipe Island, part of the Big Bend WMA, as my quota hunt.  That meant I was able to hunt the first nine days, November 3rd to the 11th at Snipe Island.  This year we decided to hunt the first eight days and head back home on Sunday the 11th.  Unfortunately, our hunting buddy John W. ended up getting sick.  So he was not able to come with Dad and I.

So we headed up on Friday, Nov. 2nd.  That let us get settled in at the Perry, KOA, and be ready in the morning for the first day of our hunting season.  Everything went pretty smoothly, and once nighttime arrived we were in bed at the time we planned.

Chapter 1:  Saturday, Nov. 3rd: Day 1.

Aside from one squirrel I didn't see anything exciting.  However someone had a much better day than Dad or I had....

Chapter 2:  Sunday, Nov. 4th: Day 2.

I was in my tree stand at 7:10.  Nothing much was moving, and I was daydreaming.  That's when a doe walked up 15 yards from me.  Luckily I was holding perfectly still while daydreaming.  She took a few steps forward and managed to walk within 10 yards of me.  Needless to say I took a good look at her, and knew she was definitely a doe.

She grazed around me from 7:33 AM to 7:50 AM.  I have to admit, I was really excited.  I hadn't had a doe come that close to me in years.  What happened was that she came down a tree line, and was blocked from my view.  But on the other hand, I was blocked from her view.  Later on I thought, "Man this would have been a great archery shot."

For the next hour I noticed the temperature dropping.  A front was coming in, and it was slowly becoming darker.  About 9 O'clock I had the first raindrops fall on me.  I said, "That's it.  Show's over."  With the front coming in, it was only going to start raining more.  I packed up my gear, and made it to the main trail.

I had been on my handheld CB radio, and calling my Dad ever since the first few drops hit me.  Once I made it to the main trail he finally tuned in.  He asked if I was on the radio, and if I wanted to get down.  I told him, "Yes, I was on the radio, and I was already on the main trail.  In fact, I could see his blaze orange through the woods."

He got down, and we called it a day.  Besides, it was Sunday and the Bucs were playing.  Of course, we knew they would lose, but we're fans so we have to watch.  They ended up losing to the Panthers 42-28, and it wasn't that close.

Here's a photo of me dealing with the rain.

Chapter 3: Monday, Nov. 5th: Day 3.

So that front that came through?  Yeah, it was still raining Monday.  So we took Monday off.  There was nothing we could really do.  Besides, most animals lay down in cover when it's raining so there's no point in trying to hunt when it's cold (okay, cool) and wet out.

Chapter 4: Tuesday, Nov 6th: Day 4.

To make up for the lost hunt on Monday we decided to hunt all day Tuesday.  That was a mistake.  It was hot and humid all day.  The official high was 83 degrees, but the thermometer on Dad's truck read 85 degrees.  Did you ever have a day that was so hot and humid you couldn't drink enough water?  Well, that was this day.

The forecast kept changing.  First, it was forecast that it was going to rain the next three days.  Next, it was going to insanely hot the next three days, but no rain.  We couldn't get a straight answer about the weather.  But in all fairness, we were getting the first winter fronts of the season.  That kept playing havoc with the weather predictions.  Since we thought it might rain the next few days we decided to hunt pretty hard.

One thing Dad wanted me to do was take a photo of him next to his favorite tree out there.  This tree marks where we split up on the main path.  This oak tree it huge.  It must be around 400 years old.  Here's one of the photos I took with Dad by his tree.

Chapter 5: Wednesday, Nov 7th: Day 5.

Dad and I decided to take the day off.  Frankly, we were a bit dehydrated from the previous day.  Also, Wednesday's temperatures were going to be about the same as the day before (83-85 degrees,) but without the wind or cloud cover.

As I had time to write this day, I thought of something that had previously happened to us.

As Dad and I were walking down the path we took into the woods, I held up my left arm and made a fist. It's the sign the armed forces uses to mean, "Stop." Now I didn't learn it in the armed forces, (Dad did.) I learned it from the movie, "Predator."

When someone does this it means they've seen something, and everyone in the party should stop and pay attention. So what did I see that was so important/exciting?

It was a spider. Not just a spider. A spider's web. A big one. It was spun across the entire trail. I was about one foot from it when I saw it. I have to say it was magnificent.

I hated taking it down, but there was no other way to cross the path without removing it. The spider was right at the top of the web waiting for something to fly, (or walk) into it. The spider was only about two inches long. It wasn't a giant banana spider or anything in that family.

This little spider built that trail-crossing web all by itself. Since it had just rained, it had recently built it. So I have to give credit to this little spider. Again I hated to tear down its web.

I also used the inappropriate way to take down the web, as in, I used the end of my gun. But the web stretched all the way as far as I could hold my gun up. I still didn't manage to cut the web at the very top, where the spider was. That part was too tall even for the tip of my gun.

When we came back down the trail there was no new web. I hope the spider found a nice, new place to spin its web.

Here's a photo of our trucks and trailer at the KOA trailer park. They've always been good to us.

Chapter 6: Thursday, Nov 8th: Day 6.

After taking the previous day off we were well rested, relaxed, and ready to go. Everything went smoothly, and we pulled into our favorite parking place on time.

I was walked to my usual spot in the woods. When I reached the tree I put my tree stand on, I looked out, and saw movement. I actually walked up on a deer! The funny thing was I saw it at my usual time of seeing things in the woods at 7:04 AM.

I couldn't tell if it was a buck or doe, but I raised my gun and quietly headed in that direction. Since it was so far from me I knew I couldn't walk up closer to it. Besides, it was going in the opposite direction.

So, as quietly as I could, I set up my tree stand on a different tree. This tree faced where the deer had been. At this point I am facing due North. At about 7:30 I heard all sorts of noise behind me (South.) I actually stood up in my tree stand, and turned around to face South. I was looking back and forth to see what was out there.

And that's when a doe walked right up behind me. As in, from the North. The way I'm supposed to be facing, except that I turned around backwards to see what the noise was behind me.

This doe walks up to within 10 yards of me. That's when I turned and looked back, right into her eyes. And that was the time she jumped back, and ran about 20 yards from me. I felt like such an idiot. She didn't completely run off. She ran toward the East and then made a gigantic circle around me to eventually head West.

Never in my life have I had two times during hunting season where deer were within archery range. I mean, I wasn't hunting with a bow and arrow, but if it was archery season and I was, then I would have had two great shots this season. And remember kids, does are legal to take during archery season.

So that leads us to Dad. Right around the same time as all my fun (7:30) Dad had an adventure of his own. He had a doe run behind him at 90 MPH. Why was she running that fast? Well, because she had a buck with his nose in her "you-know-what" running behind her, also at 90 MPH. I think, "The Rut" had started.

The rules have changed when it comes to harvesting bucks. They must have one antler at least five inches long, and that antler must have a split on it. In other words, you can't shoot spike bucks.

Dad said this buck's antlers were a bit on the small side. He wasn't sure if it would have been legal to take. The buck would have had to stop for Dad to get a better look.

A little bit later on Dad saw a spotted fawn walking down the path that the other two deer had taken. It was most likely the fawn of the chased doe.

Once 9 O'clock passed the woods died down. But those woods were the most active and alive I had ever seen in years for those first two hours. The weather wasn't bad this morning either. I think that's one reason everything was moving around.

Dad and I were hunters number 3 and 4 today. There was only one truck that came in before us. Also, the scoreboard hadn't changed. No one has taken a deer since the 5th, and no hogs have been shot period.

This was completely unlike what it was like just two years previously. When we hunted Snipe Island in 2015 there was close to 60 hogs taken out. I think they had also taken around 30 deer that year. This year was nothing like that.

There had been no hogs taken out. One deer was taken during bow season, and two where taken during muzzleloading season. That meant that only two deer had been taken all quota hunt. 

I believe that Hurricane Michael did a lot of damage to the wildlife in the area.  It passed only 40 miles to the west of Snipe Island.  The area ended up being flooded.  Now hogs and deer can swim, however, that means they can swim and then walk out of the area.  I think they ended up going to higher ground North of Snipe Island.

Dad and I decided to change our hunting method. Since it seemed that the animals were moving from 7 AM to 9 AM, we decided that we would go in earlier. We weren't going to bother with hunting during the evening. It seemed that from 10 AM to 7 PM the animals were just lying down. It was too hot for them to think about moving. 

So we were going to concentrate on getting up at 4:30 AM.  We would leave the KOA at 5:30 AM.  That would put us at the check station at 6:20 AM.  We would then head down the road to our usual spot, pack up, and head in the woods.  I would arrive at my tree stand at around 6:50 AM.

Chapter 7: Friday Nov. 9th: Day 7.

I was in my tree stand at 6:55 AM. At 7:20 I saw a deer through the brush. It was about 40 yards off through extremely dense brush. I couldn't make out if it was a doe or buck.

It was headed in the direction of a open break in the woods. So I set up getting ready for a shot in that direction. However, the deer never headed that way. I saw it when it was about 20 yards from the break, but it never crossed it. 

That was the most exciting part of my day. Dad managed to see two giant raccoons. He was hoping it was hogs he was hearing, but he got a good look at them. They were definitely raccoons.  Not only that, but they were huge raccoons.  I mean, they were trash panda size.

That leaves one day of hunting left. I know I better get something tomorrow if I want to leave here with any deer or hog. Of course, I could throw in the towel, and knock out a few squirrels. Those uppity, loud-mouthed bastards have gotten more annoying every year.

Chapter 8 will be continued in the next blog post.  

… To be continued.

Hunting Season: Snipe Island, 2016

So I made it back from hunting last week.  I have been able to think on things properly, and feel like I can put together a pretty good, although pretty long blog.  I had my computer up there, so I posted what happened to me the next day on Facebook.  So I will copy and paste what I originally posted, and then edit and expound on my thoughts. 

This year we didn't get to go on the quota hunt.  We all had things to do at that time.  So we had the week of Thanksgiving off, so my Dad (John L.) and our hunting buddy, John W. left on the Thursday before Thanksgiving.  Due to attending school I left on Friday after class.

We didn't hunt at our usual place, Hickory Mound, which is 15 miles from the town of Perry, Fl.  We decided to hunt next door (to the west) at a place called Snipe Island.  Word had gotten around that the hunting was much better there.  It was also much easier to hunt that year, in that, they had not had rain for a while, and I could walk in my regular hiking boots there.  That made it nice as I have a nice broken in set of Columbia boots.


This is my post after hunting Saturday, Nov. 19th, 2016.  I wrote this on Sunday morning (Nov. 20th.) at 9:54 AM.

I wasn't able to post last night due to a series of strange happenings. First off, I shot a hog at 4:50 PM, but I just made it mad.  I didn't realize it at the time.  I thought I hit it, and wounded it.  I called Dad on the handheld CB, and it took him about ten minutes to make it over to me.  Although, a lot of that time was spent getting down from his tree-stand.

As I was in my tree-stand, I pointed Dad down the path to where I thought the hog was.  The path was about 40 yards from me, and brush blocked my view of where I thought the hog was.  Dad used his tracking skills that he hadn't used in years.  He ended up walking within 10 yard of it, and then.... IT FREAKIN' CHARGED HIM!!! No, I'm not making this up.

It was only 10 yards from him. Dad shot four times, and the hog turned tail. I saw it 150 yards away  running through the brush into the next county. Dad says he is okay. His pants need a good washing, but he's okay.  Again, I am not trying to pull an April Fools in November. A big 200 pound (most likely boar) hog tried to run over Dad.

And that's not the end of it. So we were waiting for our hunting partner John to come out of the woods. He comes out at his usual pitch black darkness time of night. But then he tells me that I saved his life.  I thought, "What?" 

Earlier in the day I showed him how to use his new personal GPS toy. Admittedly, he's still not quite up on electronics. But I plugged in the truck's location on his GPS, and showed him how to use it.
He was still kind of iffy on how to use it, but carried it with him anyways. When he decided to come out the woods, he took his compass out, and that's when he noticed it had come apart. In other words, no compass, and he's out there in the dark.  And this was the time of month where there was no moon.  It was, "you can't see your hand in front of you" kind of dark.

So he takes out his GPS, and he at least starts moving in the direction where the distance towards the truck is getting shorter. He ended up going through some dense woods, but he made it to the truck.  Once he got to the truck he thanked me many times.  I don't think he's ever done that.

So it got down to 29 degrees last night (from Friday night to Saturday morning,) and with it being a late night for all of us, we decided to sleep in this morning. There was no way I was going to be able to get Dad and John W. out of bed at 5 AM with it being 29 degrees out. So we decided to sleep in.

And you know what? I still woke up exactly at 5:00 AM. On the dot. Exactly. But I did manage to go back to sleep. Now I am up and about. We are going to go order breakfast at Poncey's Restaurant.
I told Dad that, "Only winners get breakfast," but he said we needed to eat so that we could go back out there, and bag something.

I'm still feeling a bit depressed. In my life I have shot 5 hogs. I recovered 3 of them. One was so big, I probably just torqued it off, and the other was this one. I hate wounding an animal, and having it run off like that, but it has happened to every hunter.

So I will get back out there this evening. I will say this. This place we are hunting this year, (Snipe Island,) is full of game. I saw a man take a hog out on a trailer it was so big.  It looked like it was part bear.  It was a true 300 pounder.  And another hunter, Zack, who is hunting the same area as us, managed to take out a 6 point buck. So there is a lot more game here than at Hickory Mound.

Okay, let me hunt down some breakfast. I'll be careful out there. Take care everyone.

I managed to get back to my computer that night, Saturday, Nov. 20th, 2016 at 9:35 PM.

I'm back at the camping trailer tonight. Today we slept in, and still ended up with a late start to the evening hunt. I did manage to see a bird of prey. It was bigger than a red shouldered hawk, but smaller than an osprey. It was diving through the trees so I didn't get a good look at it. I'm not sure what kind of bird it was.

Dad did see a few owls, and we both had squirrels acting.... well squirrely. They were throwing stuff all over the place including at palmettos.  And when the acorns hit the palmettos the sound would carry through the trees like crazy.

We will start out a bit later than we usually do in the morning. It could have something to do with it being 31 degrees in the morning, and not being able to drag the retired folk out of bed in that weather.

So we are planning to really put a lot of time in the woods tomorrow. I don't know when I will be able to check back in. So if you send me a message give me time to get back to you. Take care.

Here's my post from the evening of Monday Nov. 28th, 2016 at 9:56 PM.

Today was a weird day. Here's what happened.

I used some cardboard to check my gun's shot pattern. I have some older shells that didn't really pattern too well. That's strange since they are Remington shells, and my gun is a Remington 1100. It usually shoots Remington shells well. I shot some newer Remington shells, and they didn't pattern that well either.

The other thing was that they sounded underpowered.  I tried some Winchester shells I had, and they patterned the best of all of them. They also had more kick (power.) So I am using those Winchester shells for the rest of my hunt.

This leads me to think I just flat missed the hog. But I'm still not sure why it laid under the palmetto bush instead of running. I wonder if I hit it in a place where it stung it, but not hurt it.

We had a late start to the day due to being up late yesterday. As we were driving we had two does jump the road 300 yards away. Where we were driving through was still private property on each side of the road. We hadn't made it to the hunt area quite yet.

Nothing happened in the morning, and nothing happened in the evening. Dad and I planned to get out of our treestands at 5:30 PM. At 5:28 PM I heard all sorts of racket. I thought a turkey and a squirrel were going at it. I called Dad on the walkie-talkie, and as I was doing so, I saw an owl come out from where I had heard the noise.

It landed within 15 yards of me, but high up in a tree. It was amazing. I was talking to Dad when all of this happened. I told him to hang on while I got my camera. I managed to hoist my bag up, get my camera out, and power it up. However when I looked down to power it up, the owl flew somewhere else. I would have loved to have gotten film footage of it.

(Sidnote:  I found out later that the owl was a Great Horned Owl.  Their color patterns can vary from brown to grey.  This one had a lot of grey on it.   It was also very tall.  It was probably the bird of prey I saw the day before.  It looked a lot like this one.)

So Dad and I are making our way down the trail to get to the truck. The squirrels start making all sorts of racket. I hear the woods just come alive. It's now about 5:50 PM. I hear some rustling, and look over to see!!!!...... an armadillo. So we keep walking.

We are about 75 yards from the truck when I hear another loud crash and bang in the woods. It's so dark I can't really see anything. Whatever it is, is making a lot of noise. I almost wondered if it was another hunter it was making so much noise. I looked around for a hog, but couldn't see any movement.

I slipped my tree-stand off my back, and walked into the woods. Whatever it was stopped moving. I suspected it was another armadillo. I couldn't see anything by this point. It was 6:00 PM after all. So I made it back to the trail.

That's when I heard yet another crash. Dad saw it immediately. This time, to the right, was two giant birds ( I believe they were vultures) rising out of the treeline. What I think happened was that they had sat on a dead branch, and it broke, then fell onto a palmetto making a racket. The birds took off in flight. So we continued onto the truck.

We then drove down the road to pick up John W. We told him of our strange happenings, and he told us that not much had happened to him.

Once we made it to Highway 98, Dad started noticing deer on the road. I thought he was having fun with us, in that, I hadn't seen them. But then, I started seeing them. One after another after another. I think I had counted up to 15 deer (all does,) before I thought to get my camera out. Of course, then there were no more deer.

So we decided to eat at Poncey's Restaurant. It has amazing food, and that small town feel to it. I am still stuffed.

So I have one more day of hunting tomorrow. Let's see how it goes. I am wearing the pair of pants I hate the most in hopes that I get blood (not mine) all over them.
Take care, Adrian out.

My next post was on Wednesday, Nov. 23, 2016 after I had made it back home.  I wrote about what happened on Tuesday, Nov. 22nd, 2016. 

So here's the weirdness that was yesterday's hunting adventure. We got up late since I couldn't get the older men out of bed at a normal hunting hour. Also, it was just too cold for them. In all fairness it did go down to 29 degrees.

So nothing really happened during the morning hunt. We went to a new place in Snipe Island.
During the afternoon hunt, nothing happened.... until 5:10 PM. I heard a gunshot, and thought it was our hunting partner John W. shooting at something.

At 5:28 PM (2 minutes before we were supposed to get down from our treestands,) I hear all sorts of racket. I stand up, turn around in my treestand, and look over to see what's going through the woods. I could hear it, but not see it. I suspect it was yet another armadillo.

So we get down, and head to the truck. Just 50 yards from the truck, I hear a noise. I turn to my right, and it's a .... possum. Dad says I can't shoot it since it's my spirit animal. It runs down a hole, and we continue onto the truck.  Dad is correct about that. 

Dad and I were at the truck when two men walked up to the truck next to us. I immediately got a weird vibe from them. They never looked at us. They never said hi. One guy threw his loaded rifle in his truck, ripped off his orange, and jumped in. The other one did unload a shotgun, put it in the back, and jumped in the passenger side.

They then fired up the truck, and took off a little faster than people do when driving on a dirt road. I almost thought they peeled out. Either way, they got the hell out of there.

I asked Dad if he thought they were acting strange, and he said he thought they were creepy and acting very suspicious. Dad asked me if I remembered what kind of truck it was, what color it was, and what the license plate number was.

I got on the CB, and start asking if John W. was on the air. He was supposed to check in with us at 6:00 PM, and it was now past six.

I keep trying John on the CB, and am getting no reply. Dad and I decided to go down the trail (we had never been down,) and search for John. It was pitch back, and we had only our radios and flashlights looking for him.

We were worried that the gunshot was one the creepy guys killing John, and then getting the hell out of Dodge. Think about it. A single shot from John's direction. Two creepy guys acting creepy. And then John isn't on the radio.

At 6:30 PM, I see a light down the trail. Thankfully, it's John. I ask him why he wasn't on the radio, and he says that, "We didn't agree to do that today." Sidenote: John has the worst memory of anyone I've ever met.

I told him about what went on, and he completely dismissed my feelings and told me that I was jumping to conclusions. I got pretty pissed off. Even after I calmed down over an hour later, and explained everything again, he didn't get it. I got angry again.

I keep trying to explain that I was actually concerned for him, and he just doesn't get it. He can not see something from someone else's point of view. He never has.  So I'm kind of glad that hunting season is over. I think it went on long enough. Any more and we were just going to end up annoying each other the rest of trip.


Conclusion:  So, I've had a chance to think it over.  I know I'm a bit quick to anger and a bit quick to suspect bad things.  I wish John had seen things from my point of view, but I can't make him.  I wish we would have had more days to hunt, or at least be able to participate in the morning hunts more.  I really wish I would have killed that hog.  But that's why they call it hunting, and not getting. 

After looking at shot patters of shotguns on the internet I think I am going to have to use a rifle out hunting.  In fact, I am talking to the local gun store about trading in for a Ruger RAR in a .308.  It's a no-frills workhorse with a synthetic stock.  I can knock it around in the woods and get it dirty. 

One thing that we did that we hadn't done before was get a group picture.  Since one of us had to hold the camera we never took a picture with all three of us.  So this time we had the check station manager take a picture of the three of us.  I'll leave this post with this.

Hunting Adventures, 2014

Every year I take pictures and video of my experiences out hunting.  I have been getting better at my movie making computer program, so I think this is my best yet.  It is also my longest yet.  I split it into three parts of about seven minutes a piece.

Part 1. 

Part 2. 

Part 3.

Hunting Season 2012: Story 2, Hoggin It Up

Here's the first story of the Hunting Season 2012 series:
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2012/12/hunting-season-2012-story-1-gator.html

Let me continue with my original story.  We (Me, Dad, and the Weasel) had gone hunting later in the year due to Dad injuring his back.  So we only had two travel days (one up, one back) and three hunting days.

It was the third day of hunting when our friend The Weasel (pronounced like Grease-el) asked if he could hunt out of my tree.  This story goes back 17 years, but I will give the short version.  Basically, I found this hunting spot, and marked a certain tree that I put my treestand in.  I shot my one and only deer out of it.  A few years later during a year I couldn't go hunting, The Weasel sat in my tree, and shot a hog.  Ever since then he has claimed that there is some debate as to who found the tree.  His memory is complete shit, and every blasted year I have to tell him the long story on why that is my hunting spot, and not his.

So he asks me if he can hunt out of my tree.  Since it is the last day, and none of us has seen a thing I say, "Sure.  Go for it."  When we get out there, he gets out of the truck super early, and gets out to the tree to set up his tree stand.  Dad and I take our time, and leave the truck a few minutes after The Weasel. 

We start by walking down the road called Spur 4.  My usual routine is to walk about 80 yards down Spur 4, and then walk back into the woods about 200 yards.  There's a nice place where a few game trails come together.  That's where my tree is.  However, since The Weasel is in my tree, Dad and I decide to walk down Spur 4 to see if we can come across some good woods.

We were about 220 yards, and/or four minutes down Spur 4 when I hear some noise at about 7:10 AM.  I say to Dad, "Did you hear that?'

He said, "No."  And then a lot more noise came from the bushes.

I asked, "Did you hear that?"

He said, "Yes!"

I then put my shotgun up, and pointed down the trail.  It was then that a pack of hogs started running across the road.  I shot twice in quick secession.  I tried to shoot a third time, but my gun jammed.  As I was unjamming it, I heard a squeal.

I told Dad, "My gun jammed, you go on ahead."

At this point Dad put down his treestand, and walked on ahead.  I worked on clearing my gun, and reloading.  He walks up to where the hogs crossed, looked down and saw the hog I had shot.  It was still moving so he put a kill shot in its head. 

I caught up to him, and we both agreed that there were about 7 hogs in the group.  I shot twice, and thought I had hit two.  However, I did not hit the hog I was aiming at, I hit the hog behind it.  And it was a small hog.  To be honest, it was so small that a few years ago it would have been illegal.  But since hogs are an invasive species and breed like crazy, the rules were changed that there was no size limit and no number of game limit put on them.  So basically you can shoot all the hogs you want during hunting season.

I told Dad, "I think I hit two.  We should get some of the dog hunters down here to see if one of their dogs can track down that hog.  Dad walked back into the woods to see if he could spot a blood trail or a downed hog, but he couldn't find either.  I marked the spot on the trail where the hogs had crossed with a orange ribbon.

So we grabbed our stuff and the hog.  I counted how many steps I was when I shot, and it was 65 steps.  My steps are pretty close to a yard so you can call it 65 yards.  Once we made it back to the truck we flagged down some dog hunters down the main road. 

The dog hunters we ran into were pretty nice.  They had a couple of trucks and quite a number of dogs.  The one guy told me that he had "hog dogs" and he had "deer dogs."  He wanted to get his son over with the other truck to get the hog dogs.  His son was also really nice.  I jumped in one of the trucks and they both went down Spur 4.  When we pulled up the ribbon, I showed them the blood pile where the small hog had fallen, and Dad had put a bullet in it.

The deer dog hounds started whimpering and going nuts.  They could smell that much blood not 7 yards from them.  But the dog hunter got out a red nose pit bull, and a black pit bull mix.  He set them on the trail and had them search the woods.  They ran around, but couldn't find anything.  So it seemed that I only hit one of the hogs, and not the one I was aiming at. 

So they went back to following where the hogs might have run to, and Dad and I went back to the truck to put our stuff away, and get some stuff out.  We needed to get out all the animal cleaning stuff.  But before we did that, we took some pictures and video.

Here's a picture of the hog:

And here's a picture to get a better idea of it's size:

I know, it's tiny.  But the one I was aiming at was so much bigger.  Anyway, here's the story in my own words, and my own choice of editing:

We then started laughing about how The Weasel was sitting in my tree.  As my story stated earlier, every year he wants to try to sit in my tree.  And when I finally say, "Sure thing, take my tree," I'm the one who ends up shooting the hog.

It was then that Dad and I had this conversation:

Dad and I then got to work on cleaning the hog.  It's funny, after watching "The Walking Dead" cleaning a hog isn't so bad.  We put it's feet up on some branches, and cleaned/skinned it out.  Since we were doing this right off a main road not far from the check station, we had people driving by us.  It was funny how they would be going way too fast, see the hog and let off the gas, and then slam on the brakes.  One guy even backed up, and hollared at us.  He was happy we got something.  So then, we put the hog, which was a sal by the way, in the cooler, and threw some ice on it.

At this point The Weasel had not come out of the woods despite three loud gunshots, multiple trucks going up and down the road, and a few dogs making all sorts of racket.  He said he could stay in the woods until 10:30 AM, and be back to the truck at 11;00 AM, and by golly he was not kidding.

Since it was still only 9:30 or so, Dad and I took a stroll down Spur 4.  After all, we still did have time to hunt that evening.  So we did what we were originally going to do, scout the woods and find a place to hunt.  We see some great woods down the road.  It's funny.  All these years I have always gone to my tree, but never all the way Spur 4.  There were a great number of places to hunt down there.  So after an hour of walking around Dad and I made it back to the truck. 

Some of the dog guys stopped by again to chit chat.  I'll admit, I was having a tough time understanding their "country accent."  But Dad is from West Virginia, and understood every word the guys said.  It was then that The Weasel got back.  He excitedly told us that he saw two very small does in the woods. 

The dog hunter drove off, and that's when I took this video of The Weasel:

He has a habit of getting all excited, and telling us what he saw, and forgetting to ask us if we saw anything.

So we then went down near the ocean to have lunch.  Hickory Mound is right on the water, and the area near the ocean is beautiful in its own way. 

So that evening Dad and I are planning on going back to Spur 4, but the strangest thing happens.  The Weasel wants to hunt this completely different area.  Since it is the last hunt of the last day, we say okay.  After all, I'd already gotten my game.  It's only fair to give him a chance to hunt where he wants to.  Even if that is right after I gave him the opportunity to hunt right out of my tree that very morning. 

Too Cute To Shoot?

In preparation for hunting season I have been watching a lot of the Sportsman channel.  It's mostly hunting and fishing shows.  However, I will give credit to them in that, they show a wide variety of animals and different situations out hunting. 

I was watching one show that I had not seen before.  It was called American Huntress.

http://www.americanhuntress.com/

From their website:

The American Huntress was born out of the idea to get women more involved in the outdoors, whether in hunting, wildlife conservation, or passing on our American hunting tradition. As women, we can and often do experience the outdoors differently from men. And we wanted to be able to share those differences.
As they state on the website, they hunt in a lot of places, including Africa.  The episode I ended up seeing was one that they happened to be hunting in Africa.  In the episode they were hunting Kipspringer (Cliff Springer) Antelope. 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Klipspringer

Now I had never heard of the Kilpspringer.  I had no idea what one even looked like, or anything about them.  And then they showed them in the wild, and I saw one for the first time.

Oh my God.  They look like Bambi.  Seriously, look at those big, black eyes.  They are overly cute.  Also, they are only about 2 foot tall.  Even the adults look like babies.  The above picture doesn't do them justice.  They look like something an 8 year old girl dreamed up.

For a better view, this video on Youtube, taken at a zoo, will give you an idea on how they look, move, and interact.

I may be a hunter, but even I have to admit that is cute.  I think it finally passed my cute threshold where I couldn't shoot that.  I prefer my game animals to be rather ugly, such as hogs.

But as the Kilpspringer is only native to South Africa, I don't have to worry about one crossing my path. 

A New Way of Hunting

I first started hunting when I was 12.  It seems like a long time ago, most likely because it was a long time ago.  Back then there was a moderate population of feral hogs.  But lately, the hog population has exploded.  And there are some simple reasons why.  A sow (female hog) can have up to four litters of piglets a year.  They have no natural predators, except for the odd alligator, and of course, man.

I remember back in the 80's there was a big anti-hunting movement.  The animal rights people did not like hunters shooting at bambi.  However, in these past few years the deer population has exploded in Northern states.  The average person has to worry about deer getting in their garbage, crop and flower gardens, and the massive damage that deer can cause when getting hit by a car.  Suddenly, deer aren't so cute anymore. 

In the North, many states have opened up hunting season so that there aren't so many deer competing for so little food during the winter.  I know of one place in Virginia when you buy your licence you get a licence to shoot one buck and two does.  If you fill that, you can go and get another permit for $12.00 letting you shoot one buck and two does.  And it goes on and on like that.  They really just want that $12.00.  But they are so overrun with deer they have to bring down the population.

So what does this have to do with hogs?  Well, in the Southern states we are having the same problem but with hogs. 

 

Here in Florida hogs and deer compete for a lot of the same food.  A lot of deer have been pushed out of their territory by feral hogs.  Just two years ago I shot a hog during the quota hunt season.  But I wasn't the only one.  There were only about 6 deer killed versus about 70 hogs killed during that time period.  Does that say something?  You bet it does.  The hog population has gotten out of control.

Hogs have started to creep into residental areas as well as farmland to seek out food.  The problem has gotten big in Texas.  They have an estimated 2.6 million feral hogs.  They have been destroying farmland in huge numbers.  It has gotten so bad that a bill was passed with help from Ted Nugent to allow hunters to take out feral pigs from helicopters.  That's right.  They can go all Vietnam style, and run down hogs with a helicopter while shooting semi-automatic rifles at them.

Here's the video from a series called "Pigman."

At first I wondered how bad the problem could really be.  If you've seen enough fishing shows, you know they fish over several days to get enough footage for a half hour programs.  At the end of the Pigman show, they said that they flew the helicopter for 8 hours and shot 272 feral hogs. 

Seriously?  272 hogs?  Okay, the problem is as bad as they say if they can shoot that many hogs in just 8 hours.  What you may not see in the trailer is that they are hunting strickly over farmland that has been taken over and destroyed by wild hogs. 

I was telling my Dad about this, and wouldn't it be great for him to get back in a helicopter, and take out a few hogs?  He just gave me "the look."  The background story on this is that, he flew in a helicopter once in Vietnam, and swore he would never get in one again.  You couldn't drag him kicking and screaming into a helicopter ever. 

So if I had the chance to shoot down hogs with an AR-15 rifle out of a helicopter would I do it?  You bet I would.  But Dad would take a pass.   

Quicksand

A while ago when I was listening to Loveline on the radio, co-host Adam Carolla said that in the 80's he thought his chances of dying in quicksand were 50/50.  For those who weren't there, it seemed that every show on TV had a quicksand scene.  It's something that you just can't make up. 

So what does this have to do with me?  Well, I go hunting.  And not just in the woods.  I hunt in swamps where there is a chance of quicksand.  One year I was hunting in a new spot.  It had rained a lot recently, and I actually did get stuck in quicksand.  Luckily, I did what Bear Grylls told me to do.

I threw myself backwards onto a log, and practically swam out of there.  In fact, I got stuck in some quicksand in a different place during that trip.  Oh yeah, and a copperhead snake was trying to bite me at the time.  It was almost typical.  I shot my gun, and fell over backwards. 

Also, take note.  Quicksand is as messy as it looks.

Also, it's not like they put up signs marking where it's at.

Oh, here's the end to that story.  I called home, and told my sister that I got stuck in quicksand.  She laughed her ass off.  She had also heard the Adam Carolla bit.

So what does quicksand have to do with this year's hunting trip.  Well, I am going to a new place.  Here's the map of it.

http://www.floridafishandhunt.com/articles/hunting-articles/florida-management-areas/pdf/northcentral/Spring_Creek-web.pdf

If you notice one thing about the map is that, I am hunting right on the ocean.  Which is of course, quicksand central.  A lot of hunters/ firearm enthusiasts like to point out how few firearm accidents there are out hunting.  Well, I haven't seen the statistics of quicksand deaths, but I don't think it would be anything to brag about. 

I worry that I will actually have to write a will before I go hunting.  Again, nothing to do with guns.  I just have that feeling like Adam Carolla I will have a 50/50 chance of dying in quicksand.

Buzzards: Nature's Recyclers

It was a sad day today.  A small deer did not make it across the road.  Well, it kinda did.  It just ended up there dead.  But as this is Florida, and as sure as the sun will shine, meat will not be wasted.  Not with all the buzzards that are hanging around Lutz.

It was a pretty wild scene.  At least 40 or so black buzzards were writhing around like a pit of vipers.  Once I broke my camera out a few of them became camera shy.  But I got a few good pictures of them.

I love that lone buzzard hanging out in the road.  Buzza don't care!

But I was not content to just take pictures.  I took some video clips with my camera.  You can see how excited the buzzards were.  At least that's what I think when I look at them.

I want to report that all buzzards got their fill.  About two hours after I took these photos, there were only two buzzards eating.  All the rest were hanging in the trees and pooping.  To be honest, they took care of that deer pretty quick.  They truly are nature's recycling machines.

Inside the Secret World of Adrian's Hunting Adventures, Part 3

Back to the fun videos.  But first, why the duck you ask?  I just feel like a curious duck most of the time.  But seriously.

Clip 9.  While cleaning the hog I run into an old wishing well/ old timey water pump.  Then, hilarity ensues. 

Clip 10.  Out on the Hickory Mound inpoundment we run into a gator sunning himself on a sunny day.

Clip 11.  At the very end of our trip we were driving out of our hunting area.  It was then we found out where the hogs were hanging out at.  Right in the middle of the road.

I hope you enjoyed the insider's look at what really goes on during hunting season.  And remember, the Weasel is always right.

Inside the Secret World of Adrian's Hunting Adventures, Part 2

Onto more adventures in hunting.

(Really, do these guys look like they know what they're doing?)


Clip 5.  I am tired.  So tired.  Why?  I put in a lot of work in a very short period of time.  You can even see how completely covered in sweat I am.

Clip 6.  Down the road comes the Weasel (rhymes with Grease-el.)  And it turns out I have shot his hog.

Clip 7.  And the conversation continues.  Notice how the Weasel knows everything except who actually shot the hog?  This clip is kinda funny in that, you can see just how argumentative the Weasel starts getting.

Clip 8.  Finally the tension breaks a bit, and the conversation devolves into crude sexual humor.  This is very typical of men out hunting.  When you are in the middle of nowhere, it doesn't really matter what you say.  The trees could care less what you say.

Stay tuned to part 3.  More fun, fun, fun.