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.

New Orange Day

Well, hunting season has come and gone.  But that's okay.  Because that's when the sales start.  Or at least they should.  But I digress.  Let's talk about something that is needed out hunting.  Orange.

No, not that kind of orange.  I'm talking about a hunting vest in blaze orange.  Since hunters don't want to be shot by other hunters we wear blaze orange.  By rule, we are supposed to wear 144 inches of orange, so that means a ball cap is just fine.  However most of us wear vests. 

When I was 14 years old my Grandparents bought me a reversible camo/blaze orange vest.  I have worn that vest every hunting season for the past (mumble, mumble) years.  However, it was starting to wear out.  It had rips, holes and tears in it.  The color had also faded quite a bit.  So it was time to search for a new vest. 

A few months ago I found the perfect vest.  Here it is:

This is the Redhead Upland Field Vest.  It's tough as nails, and has a lot of handy pockets.  I wanted a vest with lots of pockets so I could load it up with supplies, instead of loading my jacket up.  In Florida it gets so hot, even in November, that you don't actually need to wear a jacket.  But this past hunting season the temperature was all over the place.  Sometimes I wore my super heavy jacket.  Other times I wore a light jacket.  So to keep from having to move all my gear, a vest with lots of pockets was necessary.

I was waiting for the vest to go on sale, but it never did.  I searched for it on the Bass Pro Shops website, and it was gone.  So I called Bass Pro Shops Brandon, and they said they hadn't received any new shipments of it.  They expected that it was going to be discontinued.  So I bit the bullet, and bought one of the last ones today at the Brandon store. 

I didn't get it on sale, but at least I got it.  I'll admit that no other vest really had my interest the way the Redhead vest did.  I'll admit the Browning vest was similar to it, and had heavier fabric, but it also cost $30 more.  The good news is that this vest will last me the rest of my hunting days.  So I'll look at it like a good investment. 

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 Season: Time To Paint The Treestand

Every year hunting season sneaks up on us.  In fact, this year we aren't even going on the quota hunt.  Since everyone's schedule opens up during Thanksgiving, we decided to go for a few days then. 

But every year it's a rush.  Oh goodness, we need to check the tires on the trailer for dry rot!  Oh no, we haven't practiced shooting a gun in two years.  Oh, where are all the cooking items, coolers, maps, licenses, etc.

I did happen to remember one thing I needed to do.  I needed to paint my treestand.  I've had it for a while, and it's gotten chipped and dinged up over the years.  I just don't want the places that have been chipped to reflect sunlight.  That would definitely give away my position. 

I've found that the most important thing about painting treestands is breaking up the pattern.  You could use the classic black, brown and green colors, but if the pattern isn't broken up, you are going to stand out. 

As far as color, I try to paint my stand in a mud and leaf type color.  I put my tree up in various types of trees; oaks, pines, palms, and maples.  All of them are a little different in color.  So I aim for a background of black and green, and then break it up with lighter colors. 

Here are the after photos.  If the paint looks glossy, it's because it is still wet. 

The piece on the left is where my feet go.  The piece on the right is where I sit. 

It's a little muddy in color.  I also tried to get it close in color to a pine tree.

Here you can see the backpack straps.  That's one nice thing about this treestand.  It folds up, and I can carry it on my back.  I actually used some orange to make it look like I have moss and lichens growing on my treestand. 

This piece has a lot of padding on it, so there wasn't much to paint.  I mainly did touch up on metal that was dinged. 

I know it's hard to tell, but the part of this piece of the treestand is where I put my feet.  Namely, the part that is facing the camera.  Since this side wouldn't be seen by anything, I didn't get too creative with it.  I just made sure the dings were covered, and broke up the pattern.

The base of this part is where it grabs the tree  (toward the bottom of the picture.)  So the paint gets roughed up the most around there.  So, I had to touch up a lot of bare metal there. 

I'll let this dry overnight, and see what I think of it tomorrow.  That's the good thing with paint.  If I don't like the job I did, I can just go over it with more paint.  However, I feel pretty good about the work I performed.  I think it's going to be just fine. 

Raining on Thanksgiving.

As Thanksgiving is approaching, I am reminded of my Thanksgiving memories.  Namely, that the winter duck hunting season started on Thanksgiving.  It gave hunters a chance to bring home a duck for Thanksgiving dinner.

Since my Dad was a mailman he worked six days a week.  One of the few holidays he had off was Thanksgiving.  So it was the one day we could go hunting. 

We would always hope for bad weather since ducks seem to love bad weather.  Seriously, the worse the weather is, the more duck hunters show up.  It really is the opposite of good decision making. 

So a typical day would be getting up at 4 AM, head out the door at 5 AM, make it to Cockroach Bay (Yes that's it real name.  It's in Ruskin, Fl.)  by 6 AM, take the boat to our spot, and have the decoys set up by 7 AM.  Then we would sit in the rain and wind with guns on our laps hoping some ducks would fly into the decoys.

What's funny is that it was usually really active from 7:15 AM to 8 AM, and then maybe a few up until 9 AM.  Then, nothing.  It was like all the wildlife would stop from 9 until 10 AM.  Once 10 AM came around you might get a few show up until 11 AM.  But once 11 AM hit, it was over.  The ducks day was over until sunset. 

So we would then pack up at 11 AM.  We would then pick up all the decoys, and make it back to the dock at 12 Noon.  Then we would make it back to the house at 1 PM where the two of us would clean all the saltwater off of everything.  This also included making sure the guns were oiled really well.  Saltwater is really rough on guns.  And if we actually did manage to hit any ducks, this would be the point where we would clean them.

Then it would be time for Thanksgiving dinner between 3 and 4 PM.  That would be the perfect time to eat, and start watching the Detroit Lions get their butts kicked on TV. 

So you can see just how eventful Thanksgiving was for us.  And for the photographic evidence, feast your eyes upon this:

Yep, that's me in 1991 with a blue wing teal.  I was 15 at the time.  And I still use that same shotgun to this day.  In fact, I still have that same coat.  It's the coat I use when it's just a bit cool out hunting, but not overly cold.  Although, I do have better choice in headwear these days.

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.

Donkey?

I've been a hunter for a while.  So while I know about the different types of game that get hunted across the U.S., I like watching the hunting shows to learn about techniques and hunting on other continents.  However, I just learned something that I had never heard about from shows or other hunters.  In fact, I can't believe that I just found out about this.  It seems there are a bunch of feral donkeys in Australia, and that you are now allowed to hunt them.

Honestly, I didn't believe it at first.  I thought it was one of those internet rumors that go around.  However, Wikipedia had this to say:

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

The short version is there are 5 million feral donkeys in Australia.  Wow.  Most people, as well as myself, are used to donkeys being used as beasts of burden. 

Despite their being regarded as stupid, it seems that donkeys can survive in the wild just fine.  Even in a foreign habitat, they have built up strong numbers.

But let me get back to the hunting part.  It presents a lot of questions.  Are they hard to track, or are they too stupid to know if someone is stalking or shooting at them?  If you shoot one, do you have it mounted on the wall?  If you do, will your friends make fun of you?  If you've ever been near an Australian you know that's a valid question. 

One last thing.  Hunting is all about shooting game for food.  I mean, you can eat a donkey, but I bet it tastes like ass.

The Amazingly True Story of How Adrian Got His One And Only Wood Duck

The following is the absolute truth.  Something that has not been told until now.  A gigantic white lie has been told in it's place.  That is, until now. 

This story starts years ago.  It's starts with a morning out duck hunting.  Dad and I went to Cockroach Bay, and shot 3 blue and/or green wing teal.  I'm a little fuzzy on the details, but I remember we brought back three teal.

To get home we would take I-75 North to the last Tampa exit which was Fletcher Ave.  As we would drive West on Fletcher Ave we would pass Lettuce Lake Park.  That's where the real story begins. 

You see, Dad and I were talking about all sorts of various things, mostly baseball, the outdoors, and hunting.  Dad was in the middle of a sentence when this happened.  Dad was saying something like, "Blah, blah, blah, AND THAT WAS FUCKING WOOD DUCK!!!!"

He then proceeded to swing the truck into the left lane, and then into a left hand turn lane.  He did all of this in one motion from the right hand lane, mind you, with the truck pulling our duck hunting boat.  He then went back East, and did another U turn.  He drove on the shoulder of the road where he pulled up to a dead wood duck on the side of the road.

As he was driving he proceeded to tell me he saw a wood duck on the side of the road, and it looked like it was in perfect condition.  So I jumped out of the truck with a towel in my hand just in case it was a bloody mess.  I picked it up and it was perfect.  Perfect.  It had amazing colors, and not one feather was missing.  It seems that it lived at the Park, and was either flying/walking near the road when it got hit by a car.  It was stiff, so that meant it was a few hours dead, most probably hit during the early morning.  However, it only had two ants on it, so that let me know that it hadn't been there long.

I brought it up to Dad, and showed him how good a shape the duck was in.  I was very careful with it, and put it into the freezer as soon as I got home.  We wanted to get it mounted, but we had to get Mom's approval as taxidermy is expensive.  So we told her a little white lie.  We had just come back from duck hunting right?  We had three teal, and one wood duck.  We had 4 wood duck decoys right?  So it stood to reason that the Wood Duck went to the Wood Duck decoys, and I shoot it, right?  That makes perfect sense.  So that's what we told Mom.  She was more than happy to okay us getting the duck mounted.

We took it to our world famous taxidermist, Gene Dobbs.  He said of all the Wood Ducks he had seen, that one was the second best one that had come across his desk.  He got it done in a quick amount of time which was nice.  As famous as he was, he always had a backlog of work.  But he decided one day to do every duck he had, as he was getting behind in his work, so the Wood Duck got done early. 

And now for the moment of truth, or should I say, moment of proof.  Here's the pictures of the Wood Duck.

Hunting Season 2012: Story 6, Don't Hurl

Story 1: http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2012/12/hunting-season-2012-story-1-gator.html

Story 2: http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2012/12/hunting-season-2012-story-2-hoggin-it-up.html

Story 3: http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2012/12/hunting-season-2012-story-3-mystery-at.html

Story 4: http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2012/12/hunting-season-2012-story-4-cypress.html

Story 5: http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2012/12/hunting-season-2012-story-5-fighting.html


When out hunting with our friend The Weasel (pronounced like Grease-el) a lot of weird things happen.  Let's be honest, hunting would be boring without him.  But a lot of things that are funny when looking back on it are not funny at the time.

On the last morning of hunting, right before I shot my hog, I agreed to let The Weasel sit in my tree (my hunting spot.)  Since Dad and I didn't know where we were going, we sat in the truck while the Weasel started getting ready.

Dad has a 4 door Ford F-150, and The Weasel sits in the back right seat.  Dad and I sit up front.  The Weasel had the door open, and was standing right by the truck when he unleashed a torrent of insect spray inside the truck. 

I had just enough time to yell at Dad, "Open the door," as I swung mine out.  The air was so thick with bug spray I could taste it, as well as breathe in what I suspected was a mustard gas canister worth of spray.  I thought to myself, "Oh my God.  I am going to hurl."  But then I realized that I can't hurl.  Dad is a sympathetic hurler like Wayne and Garth of Wayne's World.

That's when Dad yelled at me, "Don't you dare hurl!"  To which I replied, "I'm trying not to!"  And remember all this time I am choking, coughing, and crying due to the obnoxious amounts of mustard gas, oops, I mean bug spray that was unleashed in the truck.

At that time we figured it was prudent to abandon the truck, and get out into some fresh air.  I continued coughing for the next 20 minutes or so.  In fact, I continued to cough right up until I shot the hog. 

But the good news is that despite barely being able to breathe I did not puke.  Oh, and I did get a hog that day.  I'll take them both as great victories.

Hunting Season 2012: Story 5, Fighting the Good Fight

Story 1: http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2012/12/hunting-season-2012-story-1-gator.html

Story 2: http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2012/12/hunting-season-2012-story-2-hoggin-it-up.html

Story 3: http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2012/12/hunting-season-2012-story-3-mystery-at.html

Story 4: http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2012/12/hunting-season-2012-story-4-cypress.html

Enjoying the outdoors can be a great time, unless it's that time of the year for the bugs to be out.  Unfortunately in Florida that means all the time.  So when out hunting it is always important to apply generous amounts of bug repellent.

For years I have used a brand called Muskol repellent.  It is 99.9% deet, and the mosquitoes don't even think about touching me.  However Muskol has been hard to get down here, so I knew I was eventually going to have to go to another brand.

The bad thing in Florida is that, besides mosquitoes you have to deal with other biting flies.  For me, I react worse to the bite of no-see-ums than I do from mosquitoes.  And unfortunately, Muskol doesn't offer any protection from sandfleas, gnats, or no-see-ums.

It just so happened that my Dad had bought a new kind of insect spray called Repel 100.

I put it on after I was done cleaning the hog, and an amazing thing happened.  The no-see-ums backed off my hands in a hurry where I had it on.  But they kept at my face where I had previously applied only the Muskol.  I know companies don't like to give away their company secrets, but the Repel 100 has some stuff in it that blocks a number of bugs, not just mosquitoes.  Whatever it's formula, it works great.  In fact, the description on the website says it all.

Repels the following insects: mosquitoes, ticks, gnats, chiggers, no-see-ums, biting flies.

According to the bottle it is 98.9% deet.  But whatever the other 1.1% is, it does a great job of getting the other bugs to back off.  And the thing I like is that it is a pump bottle, not a spray.  The spray bottles always give me the wiggles.  The pump is definitely the way to go.

So I feel good about having another repellent to use now that my Muskol has all but run out.  I wish I would have had this years ago, especially during some of the really hot winters we had down here in Florida.  Some years, there would be huge clouds of sandfleas floating in the air.  But now I have a way to back them off, and I am very thankful.  Hopefully, a lot of other hunters will be able to get the bugs to back off as well.

Hunting Season 2012: Story 4, Cypress

Story 1:  http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2012/12/hunting-season-2012-story-1-gator.html

Story 2:  http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2012/12/hunting-season-2012-story-2-hoggin-it-up.html

Story 3:  http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2012/12/hunting-season-2012-story-3-mystery-at.html

On the day we were coming home from hunting, we decided to make a little detour.  Before we hooked the truck up to the trailer we went down the road to visit Bo Swindell's Sawmill.  Bo is a true old timey Florida Cracker.  I mean that in a good way, as most people have no clue what a true Florida Cracker is.  It's a term from the 1920's that referred to Floridians who raised cattle, and used a whip.  Hence, the cracker. 

But Bo is a great guy to talk to, or should I say listen to.  I gotta be honest, the man had a lot to say.  He had hurt his back, and hadn't cut any fresh wood in a while.  But he was sitting on a lot of new-old stock.  The good news about that was the wood had dried out, and was ready to go. 

We took a tour of the sawmill, and all the wood he had.  I think Bo was more interested in talking than actually selling wood.  He was 75 years old, and was concentrating on building tables and such.  As we wandered the piles of wood, Dad managed to find some persimmon. 

We then came across a pile of wood that surprised Bo.  He thought he had sold all of his cypress, but he had a giant pile of it stacked chest high.  I looked at a few boards, and picked one out.  Bo wanted all of 12 dollars for it.

The neat thing about this cypress is that it was old growth fallen cypress.  You see, over the years the cypress trees get old and when they die they fall into the water and much where they live.  These logs are then submerged in the water for many years.  The oxygen can't get to them, so they don't rot.  What's really neat is that the tree then soaks up the minerals in the mud and water. 

The tree harvesters then pull the logs out of the Florida/Georgia rivers and swamps.  The logs are then dried out, and sold as old growth fallen trees.  The good news is that they are not cutting down live trees.  These trees have been dead for many, many years.

So here is the board I bought in its rough sawn form:

Now here is a picture after I had run the boards through a planer.  Notice the golden yellow color?

Here's a picture of the growth rings.  Notice how they are black with the minerals in them.

So the main question is, "What am I going to use it for?"  Well, I'm not sure yet.  But cypress is used on acoustic guitar tops.  The most popular acoustic top wood is spruce followed by red cedar.  Cypress is a great tone wood, but is much more expensive than either spruce of cedar.  That's one reason why it is not used that much. 

I tap toned a few pieces of the cypress at the sawmill before I decided on the one I did.  But I have to admit, I liked them all.  The cypress's tone is not as bright as spruce, but not as dark as cedar.  The one thing I like about it is how loud it is.  It really surprised me at how the sound seemed to jump right off the board. 

So hopefully I will be able to write a post a year or so from now telling what magic project I have created with this cypress.  But I have to admit, I'm in no hurry.  I have more guitars than I really know what to do with.  But I guess I could always use one more.