Ohio Valley Outdoors Magazine

Summer ice yields fall meat

By Travis Hunt

If I did not have bad luck I would have no luck at all, was ingrained I my mind as took the first step of the morning hunt. The frozen tundra crunched under my feet as I noticed the layer of ice on the cactus. Yes, you read that right, ice on a cactus. The spring of 2006 found me hunting private land in the Texas Hill Country. My buddy, Lieutenant Commander Gery DuParc, was hosting me for a weekend escape on his land adjacent to the legendary YO Ranch in the Texas hill country. The desire of my scope was an Axis deer and the desire was almost fulfilled; but as luck would have it, the moment of truth was met with a layer of opaque ice nestled over the crosshairs of my Bushnell scope. I tried to wipe the scope without moving but as you can imagine a shot was never fired and the wise Axis beat fate. Gery was the consummate guide, but the 100 year ice storm was relentless. The last hours of the hunt were spent in a Texas shooting tower, complete with a roof, rails and draped in camo netting. Needless to say that hunt did not result in meat for the family; but I did fly home with food for thought.

As a conservationist, land owner and archer, I continue to understand that summer preparation is the key to fall success. My goals for the 2006 Ohio archery season were three fold. First, I wanted to continue the task of developing my 15 acre parcel to hold deer and provide the archer with the opportunity to efficiently meet and defeat the four legged Ohio quarry. Secondly, as I mature a hunter, I wanted to kill a mature buck as well as the first yearling protein machine that presented itself. The last task, which was likely the most important, was to bring some Texas efficiency to the woods of Ohio with the construction of a shooting tower. Shooting towers come in many shapes, sizes and prices but they all provide the hunter with the inalienable ability to ensure stealth, comfort and position. Most importantly shooting towers are a fantastic catalyst for the next generation of hunters. Logan, my 10 year old son, like your child, is enthusiastic about hunting but can often not sit still long enough to get the deed done. This is why the tower is the perfect place to hunt with you child. The tower allows your child, to be a child, and do things that keep their minds on the task at hand, like move, stretch, eat jerky and even read a book.

I decided the perfect place for my shooting tower was near a transitional wood line positioned in the middle of my existing clover field 20 yards from the dinner bell on the spinning feeder. The spot was picked and my friend Alan Asawa and I drew the plan. I spent more time pondering the schematics of this 6’x 6’ tower than those of our newly constructed home. Alan and I would call back and forth and as we debated hot topics such as camo netting material, lag bolts and sinking the posts three or four feet. The two weekend project resulted in the raising of a rather impressive tower. The 4x6x16 posts were dug into the ground three and one half feet and secured with concrete. The 6x6 frame of the floor was 10 feet off of the ground and the side walls were high enough to enable a comfortable seated shooting position. Additional 2x4s were added on the four posts to allow me to stand under the corrugated roof. The tower was supported though additional cross braces and completed by adding camo netting around the perimeter of the roof. What a view, what a set up and what adventure awaited us that fall.

Of course a hunter can not wait until November to think about hunting. After all, if your passion is like mine, hunting is a lifestyle not a date on a calendar. The spring found the family planting more apple trees on the property and Alan and I spent a few mornings hanging two new ladder stands in the valley adjacent to the creek bed. The summer found the fertilizing and the addition of chicory to the food plot. The weekends found us happily enjoying the increasing rare opportunity to escape to the cabin, have a bon fire and lay out piles of apples in front of the game camera. The nights found the little ones huddled around the computer monitor waiting to see the pictures from the game camera. The days found me bragging about my buck with the apple in its mouth. Alan reminded me that it is not mine until the arrow says so. How true, but off seasons like this keep the fires of passion lit.
Opening day rained and I was not able to hunt until late afternoon. However, that afternoon, I fled the city and breathed a sigh of relief as the wheels of my truck chewed grass rather than asphalt. I exchanged one uniform for then next, Navy blues for Predator Fall Gray, and said a quick prayer to Saint Hubert. Alan arrived and joined me for the inaugural hunt from the shooting tower. With Horton crossbow in hand and Magnus Stingers completing the arrows, we entered the field and came face to face with three does grazing in the field. They scooted out and we scooted up the ladder and were soon perched in the tower. Surprising, the three does returned to the field within a few moments and meandered towards the tower. The largest doe presented a broadside shot at 22 yards. Protein is protein and the thud of my crossbow limbs, like the blast of a starting gun, echoed the start of the race. However, this race was over before it began and the doe crumbled as the arrow passed through and lodged into the ground. Excitement abounded from the tower and high fives were exchanged.

Like many hunters, the obligations of family, children, and work, limit our time a-field. Therefore, pinpointing the peak of the rut is the most efficient method of selecting which days to hunt. I had passed on four small Ohio buck within the last week and my self imposed frustration was mounting. God makes annual leave, this is what I told my wife, as I explained and truly sought her permission to hunt every day until I connected with a ten pointer. Election-day found patriots in the voting booth. However, due to my Texas absentee ballot, election-day found me in the woods. I hunted the valley all morning and saw nothing. I took a half hour early afternoon thaw out break and returned to Mother Nature by 1:30 PM. I walked into the clover field, pass the Texas tower and climbed into one of my BBK ladder stand. This ladder stand is identified as the “stand on the bend” and was positioned directly behind the transition between the woods and the food plot and 20 yards in front of a reliable deer trail.

Preparation yields confidence and I was confident. I purchased the land based on hunt ability. I tend the food plot and fill the feeder throughout the year. I track animal movement times and temperatures in an Excel spread sheet. I strategically placed and moved and placed six ladder stands and built one sweet tower. I participate in the flight of the arrow off of my back deck as I maintain my shooting skills through the off season. Most of all I asked the good Lord to bless me and Saint Hubert to guide me arrows. Yes, I was confident, but man was I tired and cold and the post lunch pre evening lull was truly a lull.

I did not hear him but I caught a glimpse of movement as I scanned behind my ladder stand. Buck fever is a non controllable phenomenon. A much as I try the sight of big antlers and a swollen neck unleashes the high of life. The buck was definitely swollen and I decided the moment was at hand. He was looking for love but he was not foolish. I needed to take an off shoulder shot so I maneuvered to hang my legs off of the sides. He did not like this but the bleat from my Primos can put his mind at ease. He froze and quartered away from me as he gazed down the trail looking for love.

He remained frozen and I held my breath in a feeble attempt not to prolong the scene. The thud, like so many other sounds in the woods is associated with a very specific meaning. Just as the breaking of leaves on the ground heralds the arrival of a deer the thud heralds the connection of arrow and beast. I looked up from my crossbow to see the buck attempting to escape. He was dead but had yet to realize it. As he attempted to jump a fallen tree and head for the safety of the valley he crumbled, rolled and lay still. It was over and it was silent.

The silence is another sound that has a distinct meaning. This silence means only one thing. However, like they teach you in hunting school, I quietly made my way out of the woods an waited 30 minutes. I stood on the porch of the cabin and called my beloved. Gather the kids and come see. The next call was to Gery and then to Alan. Hunters are humble, but it is hard to contain yourself when you take your first big buck.

The support team arrived. My son, Allan, Sean or student friend, and I found the buck. I connected with him 25 yards from the ladder stand and came to rest about 30 yards into the valley between two ash trees. The arrow was snapped and I let out the victory howl. He was a big bodied, corn fed, Ohio buck with a swollen neck. He was primed for his mission just as I was primed for mine. I began to count and stopped at ten. Praise God, the beast was a ten pointer. The antlers are not book antlers but have a 17 inch spread and they were mine. The true labor was upon us and with the help of a Honda ATV we guided him up the valley and into the field. The rituals began in earnest. We all have our rituals but I believe in working hard and savoring the moment. The bonfire was warm and the Heineken was cold. The cigar aroma was strong and I thanked everyone for their help. This was a good story, with a good ending, and will be told again and again.

The success surrounding this hunt is more than my simple ability to put an arrow on a target. The foundation of this success is based on difficult lessons learned from six years of hunting and the wok ethic developed through my youth. “Do it right, do it light, do it wrong, do it long” is a phrase from high school football that is ingrained in my mind and often told to my children. The seeds to this hunt were planted during an ice storm in Texas and watered with the disappointment of a missed Axis. The moment was made possible with the support of friends and family and blessings from above.

This deer was first envisioned during the hot summer, as we sat in the newly completed Texas shooting tower, dreaming of what would follow as the leaves began to drop. The buck was placed on my wall last month, next to the stone fireplace and the steak frequently feeds the family. Sometimes, as I take a bite, and the protein gives me strength, I remember the story and the emotions. I remember the thud and the silence. I remember it all and I am humbled. Greetings from the woods of Ohio.