It just doesn’t get any better
- Bob Hanna: Someday
- November 18, 2020
- 682
Hey everyone, I was going to call this article “It doesn’t get any crazier,” but after my last article and this one, I’m afraid to test how crazy things can get.
Let me explain. I mentioned before that with the new property, we’ve not been able to do any bow hunting but did manage to get out a little during muzzleloader season. We’ve been trying to get an idea of the deer population here with cameras. With that, we’ve also captured our bobcats, fox, raccoon and now add wild dogs to the list. We also have seen coyotes. Another neighbor, who we had yet to meet, showed up at our door last week warning us to keep an eye out for dogs running loose. Several of them had tried to take down one of his calves that morning.
So as I write, it is 9:30 p.m. on Nov. 16. Kentucky whitetail gun season began on Nov. 14, but we got to spend the weekend with our grandsons in Columbus. Nov. 17 is my wife’s birthday, and I promised to take her shopping. This weekend our youngest daughter and her husband are coming to stay a few days. Family takes priority over hunting in my book.
After sleeping in this morning (retired), I told Taryn I at least wanted to hang a stand and check trail cameras. I went out about noon and set up my climbing sticks with a hang-on stand. I think these Kentucky trees are tougher to climb than your Ohio trees. I can’t figure that one out. I came back in about 2 p.m. to rest. The calendar said 5:18 p.m. was sunset for us, so I decided I would sit from 3:30 p.m. to dark.
Remember, we just moved here, and a lot of our stuff is still in boxes, so finding hunting clothes, where’s the right bullets (we have boxes), where’s the stand, and on and on, takes time. I finally did make it up in the woods, once again getting acclimated to my surroundings, perched on a bench overlooking a deep hollow with a ridge line above, fairly steep.
The first hour and a half were breezy with nothing moving. Then about 5 p.m., I hear it — the crunch, crunch of crispy leaves underfoot. As I stealthily ready my 7mmRemMag and flip off the safety, he appears … a big red squirrel. Hunters know that feeling.
Fifteen minutes later as the sun slowly fades, I see a doe trotting across the ridge. Of course, both times she stops, a big tree steps in the way. I did manage to see her top the ridge and gone. No more did she disappear when a huge doe comes off the ridge on a run, headed down into the ravine below me. As fast as she was moving, I thought she wouldn’t stop. But just then, for some reason, she slammed on the brakes. Scope up, broadside pretty as a picture, 150 yards, say 35- to 40-degree down angle, crosshairs for a high shoulder shot (told Taryn I’d rather not track a blood trail through the thick stuff), squeeze, boom.
Then silence — no rustling of a running deer, just silence. Making note of a landmark near where she stood, I climbed down and started my descent. Could it be? As I peered over the edge of the gully, I saw a white tail in the heavy fall leaves. Thank you God.
That’s the good news. The bad news? How are we going to get her out of here? I called Taryn with the news, and as I looked in the direction of the house, I could see our security light. Could I be so lucky that she would drop near the end of one of our other trails? God is good.
Taryn came to help me field dress her, and then I climbed back up the ridge to retrieve our Kawasaki Mule. We pulled within about 30 yards of where we stopped dragging her downhill and loaded her up. That’s the good news.
The bad news? We had to find our deer gambrel to hang her in the new barn, which has no lights yet. We still haven’t found our meat saw yet, and tomorrow we need to find a processor for my deer on my wife’s birthday. Happy Birthday Honey!
God continues to bless us. How has he blessed you lately? Think about that. Pray about that. Thank him for that. Love y’all!