A Getaway Hunt

       Today I write from the library of my university, during the last week before finals. With a crammed schedule, lots of studying and even more consumption of caffeine, I should have spent this past weekend studying for exams, writing research papers and preparing presentations. Instead I spent 10 hours in the car going home and hunting the opening day of Iowa's shotgun season. Leaving Friday from the Twin Cities I arrived at home in time to have dinner with some of the family and arrange all of my hunting equipment for the following morning. Getting up around 5:00 am, my Father and I were on the road half and hour later and by 6:00 we met up with my Dad's friend, Roger, who he has hunted with for years. We headed to the same farm that I tagged the two deer nearly a year ago, (those stories can be seen below).
          Upon arrival I dropped Roger and Dad off on one end of the farm and headed to the other. Our plan was to sit along likely travel routes of deer. We would sit for around three hours during the early hours of the morning when deer are still active and moving towards their daytime bedding areas. As I made my way towards my spot I saw half a dozen or so deer feeding on a harvested soybean field on the opposite side of the valley of me. As I began to walk along the draw of timber I saw two white tails bouncing through the timber in the lowlight of the predawn. The deer appeared to be anywhere. I found a place to set my stool under a tree stand we have set up in the area. It is what I would consider a 'pinch-point'. Two creeks and fingers of timber join a large stream and create a relatively large piece of timber. Behind me is a hillside covered in native plants, across the main stream channel is a standing cornfield. Dad sat in between one of the creeks and the cornfield in thick woods and shrubs to the North of me and Roger on the far North fence line.
         I was still arranging all of the gear I had drug down to my spot. I got the tripod and camera set up in case I had time to get video of a deer as it came close enough for a shot. I got my binoculars, water, gloves and anything else I might need during the sit spread out around me. I had just put my facemask on and was still making a lot of commotion when I looked to my left. All I could see was the body of a deer. The head was concealed by trees and other brush. Both of us stayed motionless for 30 seconds or so and finally the deer moved. With enough experience with deer, I could tell that the flick of the tail and the body motion that followed meant that this deer was not overly disturbed by what he saw. When he moved I also saw that this was a small buck.

         I want to take a moment to talk about something that I have thought about quite a bit lately. I had greatly considered letting bucks of a lower antler size go past me without taking a shot, but considering the very limited time and opportunity I had during this season I opted to go ahead and fill my tag with a deer that had yet to reach its full antler and body size potential. To some, the idea of waiting for a 'big buck' is considered trophy hunting. This misconception and the way that it is used frustrates me on many levels. First, every animal I have ever taken is a trophy. Not because killing something is worth celebrating but because that animal represents the hunt and the journey that I was on that led me to that animal. These 'trophies' are for no one but myself because it reminds me of my experiences. Secondly, the reason that I have passed on younger bucks in the past is to allow myself the possible opportunity of taking a larger deer and also letting that buck hopefully live at least another year and grow to be even bigger. I have been fortunate to take many deer over the years, but two reason that a hunter would wait for a mature buck to shoot is because of the difficulty in harvesting one and the fact that they are amazing representatives of their species. The older a buck gets, generally the smarter and harder they are to kill. For me, and many other hunters, it provides a challenge and often prolongs the hunting experience, allowing us to spend more time in Creation. Back to the story.

          As soon as the buck started moving I grabbed my shotgun off my lap and waited for a clear shot opportunity. Knowing I had some time before the deer would come into view again I turned on my camera hoping to film the action. Just as I did this I heard the snort a deer makes when it detects danger in the area. I wheeled around to my left to hear the crashing of brush and see multiple deer scattering in every direction. This is where I originally expected the deer to come from that morning but this buck had distracted me from watching that area. Without a shot opportunity I turned back to where the buck had been standing and saw that he had whirled around, stopped broadside and was about take off. I centered the sights behind his shoulder at 50 yards and pulled the trigger. He ran! Deer were seemingly everywhere, running all over and I was unable to maintain focus on what happened to the buck. I sat down and attempted to refocus.
         I waited for the sun to finally light the area up and I headed over in the direction that the deer was standing. I found white hair and immediately my stomach sank. White hair is not found anywhere near where I was aiming and often it means that the deer was hit low. I found blood. At first it was pinkish in a way I've never seen before but as I continued it turned dark red and I was struggling to find much blood at all but a few spots here and there. I decided to go and wait until I met up with Dad and Roger before I tracked it further. Around 9:30 I heard shots come from their directions. I knew both had shot because I could hear the distinction between the sound of the shots. It turns out that the deer that had spooked right before I had shot had slowly made their way to my Dad where he bagged a deer, and then they ran to Roger where he got one as well. Around 10 o'clock I made my way towards them and listened to their stories and told them mine. We headed back to the last place I had seen blood. My dad and I tracked the scarce drops out of the woods and up a hill into a native brushy area. Roger went ahead in case the deer was still alive and bedded and tried to leave. We were about 100 yards from where the deer was standing when I shot when Rogers says "there he is". 20 yards in front of me lay a big bodied, six-point, whitetail buck. All three of us had filled a tag on our morning sit, no doubt a successful one.
          After field dressing the buck we went into town, grabbed a bite to eat and headed back into the field to fill the one remaining tag. We slowly walked the property and after seeing lots of deer and a few miscues on where I should have been my dad filled the tag. This was certainly one of the most action-packed days of deer hunting I have been apart of in a while, and the many miles I drove for one day of hunting were well worth it. I can now focus my time and effort on schoolwork until I head home for Christmas break and can look forward to the
muzzleloader deer season.

An Afton Evening

      Over the last month or so I have visited Afton State Park several times. One weekend and a friend and I went and camped there and I have since been back to hike around, photograph and search for rutting bucks. I have yet to find any such bucks but have been able to get some beautiful pictures and footage of deer and other wildlife.

Camping and Backpacking

***See Below for Corresponding Photos***         

        Recently I got the bug to go out and do some hiking/camping or backpacking. I bought all of the necessary equipment this winter and was waiting for the appropriate weather to head out. Finally last week I saw an opportunity with decently warm temps for mid-February and planned on heading out on my own. I mentioned my plan to my RA, Tim, who jumped on the chance to spend sometime in the outdoors. While researching places to go I found out that in Minnesota's state forests it is perfectly legal to set up camp nearly anywhere one would like. Not far from the Mississippi River in Southeast Minnesota we found a state forest that had a camp site near the road. We decided to use this because Tim did not have the gear to pack up into the hills.
          One of the intriguing factors of this particular spot was topography or elevation change. It was common to climb several hundred feet in elevation over a very short span, This was bluff country. Saturday morning Tim and I set out for the campsite and had our tent up and had gathered firewood by noon. After a short break we headed off into the woods on the North side of the road. Through the gaps in the tree cover we could see the top of a bluff and decided on that being our destination. An hour later found us winded, but looking over a large stretch of the Mississippi River Valley. After a rescue mission for Tim's missing water bottle we headed back into the brush to continue our hike. We made a large loop and eventually found ourselves back at the vehicle after about three hours. Along the way we came across lots of sign of deer and small game and continuously heard the hoot of a nearby owl. After a campfire and some brats we headed to bed as we listened to the not-so-distant chorus of coyote howls. With lows in the mid-20's I woke up freezing and decided that nothing but a long hike would help to warm me up. I set off for one of the peaks that looked over the valley floor that Tim was still sleeping on. A half-hour later I was sitting on jagged rock, looking for miles, catching my breath and watching the sunrise light up the east-facing slopes. After taking some photos, I headed back down and started preparing a fire as Tim woke. It was a great, and very cold, way to spend a weekend.

         Early this week my roommate, Collin, found himself with the same bug that I had this winter. He went out and also bought the necessary equipment to do some backpacking. This weekend promised lows approaching 40 degrees in the same area and Saturday morning found myself and Collin driving to the same state forest but with a much different agenda. We arrived at the same parking lot but did not camp there. We packed up our bags and headed off into the woods. After looking over some ariel photos I saw some very open spots on the top of a ridge next to the peak I had climbed not six days earlier. After an exhausting, sweaty, one-hour climb through thick cover Collin and I reached the ridge, set our packs down and set off exploring the area for the prospective campsite. What we found could not have been any better. In the midst of a long line of planted pine trees reaching forty feet into the air we found an open area barren of snow and ice. All we had to do was cut down the dead branches that reached their long arms into the middle of the site and brush away the pinecones. We kicked the needles away to expose dirt in order to have a safe fire ring. After an hour of setting up tents we collected enough firewood to last the evening. The setting was absolutely perfect. The pines provided shelter from the elements while keeping us free of the omnipresent snow, ice and mud. At one o'clock we grabbed our walking sticks, which we made with a machete, and set out for an adventurous hike which lasted about three hours and covered between 5-6 miles of fields, pine trees, deciduous forest and prairies. We made it back to camp a little after four and had a snack and drank lots of water. Collin and I each took a break in our tents and right before sunset we went our separate ways to get some pictures and check a few things out. Earlier on our hike we heard what sounded like a coyote pup howling in the woods, the problem? This time of year there would be no coyotes making that high-pitched of a sound. About this time a hunter decked out in full camo and carrying a high-power rifle came walked by a gave us a polite wave. Throughout the evening we heard that same lost coyote pup howling from all over the area. No shots were heard telling us that each of the canines in that part of the woods made it another day.
          At sunset we ate brats over a fire of which we had collected all of its wood.  We kept it small and made it last well into the night until the wind began to pick up. I stomped out the last of the dying embers and tucked myself into my sleeping bag. I woke up the next morning much warmer than I had been the last trip and we hurriedly packed all of our gear because the forecast promised rain and snow in the coming hours. Needless to say, the trip down the steep hill was much more enjoyable and in less than a third of the time it took us to find camp, we had reached my vehicle. Although I enjoyed last weeks experience, this week's expedition was incredibly rewarding! From carrying all of our gear up hundreds of feet, to finding a suitable campsite, to cutting and sawing our own wood the hard work made the entire trip that much more enjoyable and also left me a little bit more sore. On the way back home I mentioned to Collin that if he saw any bald eagles near the road I would love to try to get some pictures. On the way to camp we made a stop and saw dozens of them populating the Mississippi Valley. Shortly after I said this we saw a pair sitting in a tree next to the river. I grabbed my camera and snuck towards the eagles. Soon I could see 30 or 40 eagles on the ice, in the trees and flying in the air trying to pluck fish from the river. I snuck to within only several yards of our national bird and was gifted with some of my favorite photos I have taken. The last two weekends have been just as educational as enjoyable and I cannot wait for my next opportunity to experience God's creation in such an intimate way.

Camping and Backpacking Pictures

Campsite #1

Tim and I look over the Mississippi River Valley

Sunrise during first week's solo hike

Backpacking Campsite

Sunset from Campsite #2

Bald Eagle Attempting to fish the Great Mississippi

Again?

Before I begin this post I want to share a website I quickly created. You can find a sampling of pictures I have taken over the last year organized in an inviting format. I have found that the website looks best on a computer rather than a mobile device but can certainly be accessed on either. Thanks

http://iowawor.wix.com/----


         I had taken the deer from the last post on a Thursday, New Year's Eve, and had to go back to school Monday morning. I felt relieved to be able to tag a deer, but I certainly did not think I had a chance to tag a second. On Saturday my Dad and I headed back into the field knowing that this was the last day I would hunt because I was not planning on hunting Sunday. It was cold, one of the coldest of the winter at that point but my dad and I had a plan. I was going to go stand on top of a hill where he might push deer to me on the way to his sitting spot. If I did not see anything I was then going to go walk around nearly the entire property hoping to bump something to my Father. I stood at the top of the hill constantly alert for a pair of ears to break the horizon on a dead sprint towards me... that did not happen, but I did see deer, half a mile away. I saw them trotting across an empty field and down into the creek bed that I had seen the deer that I shot two days ago, only these deer were not only a long ways from that spot but on a different property. I thought that it was possible that the deer would get into the timber and funnel there way down towards either my dad, who was sitting far away on that creek bed, or that I might see them when I had waited the allotted time for my Father to get into position.

         After about 30 minutes of standing there unprotected from the wind and cold I began my long journey around the property. I could not shake the idea that those deer could possibly be moving along the lengthy draw and that I might intercept them and so all of my senses were on high alert. I moved down the hill and entered the timber on the opposite side of the creek from where the deer most likely would be and sure enough the deer stood there 150 yards away unaware of my presence moving in the field opposite of me from my right. Looking back at what happened next I cannot believe how fortunate I was. I realized that the deer, four of them in total, were about to move behind a large amount of brush that stood between us, that was my opportunity. I closed the distance in half being quite loud trying to make my way through the snow-covered forest floor. The first of the deer moved past the brush and I raised my gun, she looked my way sort of suspiciously but not spooked. I moved to my right a little bit to where a tree about 10 inches in diameter stood. I could see all of the deer but only one of them provided a clear shooting lane. I rested the gun on the trunk, steadied the crosshairs directly behind deer's front shoulders and squeezed the trigger. In the moments after the smoke cleared I saw that the deer seemed to have been taken back by the force of something unnatural and she began running earlier than the other deer. These two signs made me feel confident that the deer had been hit. It is hard to explain but subtle clues such as these allow someone with just a little bit of deer hunting experience such as I, to make a well-educated guess on the shot. The part that worried me was that as the deer ran up the hill I could not distinguish the deer I had shot at from the others. None of them appeared to be injured. Then I saw it, after running about 60 yards the deer stopped and one of them fell over.

         I crossed the creek and could see the deer laying motionless in the snow in the middle of the field. I followed the heavy, bright red blood trail to the deer (which indicates a lung shot) and walked up to the dead doe thankful to have been able to harvest such a great animal in an ethical way, just as the last. I took a moment to thank both this deer and the Lord for providing this animal as meat and memories. This deer was much larger than the last and so I was glad my dad was there to help get her out of here. I called my dad who was several hundred yards away and asked if I should finish the drive. He said yes and so I tagged the deer, laid my gun and coat across her chest, for I was tagged out and walked the perimeter to him. Along the way I saw two decent bucks but they did not follow the script towards my father. When I met with him I was eager to share another successful hunt with him. Although I was very thankful to have the experience of hunting alone, I was excited to share in the camaraderie of ending a hard, yet rewarding season with him. As we walked to the deer I shared the adventure with him like I remember doing so many times before. I was taken back to a time when I was a young boy recounting every moment of a hunt to him (even if he had been standing over my shoulder the whole time). Times like these can never be forgotten.

         We field-dressed the deer together and took our gear to the car. We decided to check with one of the landowners if there was a closer entrance and he offered to let us use his ATV to get to the deer as we would have had to drag her up the same steep slope that I took the previous deer up two days ago. In many ways I was glad for the hard work that left me sweating in 15 degree weather but I certainly appreciated such a luxury as an ATV. Due to the fact that my father was with me and I shot this deer around noon, I was able to get pictures which would allow me to capture this special event forever. In reflecting on such a time as this I can see just how rewarding these two deer were after working so hard. To be able to share it with my Dad makes it that much more special as well. Anytime we are given a chance to take part in His creation, it should be treasured and not easily forgotten because these moments, these feelings can never be replicated and they leave us with a stronger connection of who we are as humans.

Hard Work Really Does Pay Off

          I realized that yesterday was the one year mark since my first post on here. A lot has occurred over the last few weeks. I am back at school in Minnesota and have class everyday again. After my last blog post I continued to go out deer hunting but my focus became hunting and not so much the photography aspect. As time left in the season began to run down I applied most of my time and effort into tagging a deer. I have to say, I spent a lot of nights in the field searching for deer, and of the first seven nights I saw a total of 3 deer, two of which are pictured in the previous post. On my eighth evening sit, eighth different place, second different farm, I finally found some deer.
   
          On my way back to the car after shooting light was gone one night I saw three figures racing across a muddy, picked corn field. The next night my dad saw the three deer again and I mentally noted this spot and when I saw them. This brings me back to my eighth night of hunting. I remember this number very well because I was so disappointed with my ability to find deer. I wondered if it was me or if I was simply running into a stretch of bad luck. I asked myself, should I even be hunting? I completely understand the frustrations of hunting, that is what makes it so rewarding. The problem was that I seemingly could not find deer in the places I always could have before.

           That eighth night, I remember sitting on my stool that I carry around, gun leaning on a short brushy tree, binoculars in hand as I scoured the surrounding fields and timber for a glimpse of antler in the brush, a slight movement, maybe the twitch of the whitetail that Iowa deer gather their name from. I sat as my shooting light dwindled from three hours, two hours, one hour. My afternoon had not started well anyways. The car I was planning on taking into the snow with its AWD had a dead battery. Forced to take my Chevy Impala (any hunter's dream vehicle) I hit the road (at least I could listen to my music in this car). With 45 minutes left in the evening's sit I saw the body of a deer running 150 yards away. My first thought was "why is this deer running? Its the first one I've seen in days and I already spooked it?" I quickly realized that the deer was moving towards me and that it had two others with it. These were the deer we had spotted previous nights and they were following the script perfectly. Tonight could be the night, but there was a deep creek bed that lay between us, would they actually cross it? After watching the deer for several minutes through thick brush, the two younger ones began to chase each other, like they wanted to scare the other.

          The next 30 seconds are a bit of a blur. The deer quickly decided to come to my side of the creek and into the field that I was set up next to. The first one stepped out and I held my scope on her but the other one came running up the bank and spooked the first. I was forced to change position in order to get a shot but they caught my movement, I knew I needed to pull the trigger quickly. Just as I focused the crosshairs on the deer's chest I hit a branch with the barrel of my muzzleloader and the deer looked at me as I squeezed. I watched the deer run a little ways and was sure she had piled up in the draw 50 yards away. I found the deer after reloading my gun and discovered I had made a perfect double lung shot, one of the most ethical shots a hunter could make, and for that I was extremely proud. My first thought was to thank the Lord who now provided me with fresh, free-range, locally grown meat for my family, and to thank the deer who became part of this food chain that we play a key role. It is not easy to explain the struggle that I feel in a moment such as this. I must come to face the fact that I have taken the life of an animal that is part of His creation, but there is also the part of me that takes joy in having the capability to use the instincts of a predator and to harvest food that does not come from a farm, slaughter house and finally a grocery store. I will know where this meat comes from and in what way it was taken care of. My second thought was to call my father. This was the first time that I would be hunting, field dressing, dragging and driving home with a deer alone, but I wanted him to be a part of it as we have shared so many similar moments.

           I noticed in the difficult work following the hunt just how great my appreciation for this deer and the species it belongs to had become. I dragged the deer through the snow, up to the top of the highest hill on the property as I stood under a star-filled sky an hour after sunset. Living in the city I had not seen such a beautiful sky in such a long time and every time I would stop to get my breath back I looked up and quickly regained my strength. I do not tell this story in order to explain the gory details that happen during a hunt, but because I discover something inside of me that traces back thousands of years within humans,  which is the connection with nature. I am not saying an animal has to die for one to experience this because I of all people would know that is not the case, but that New Year's Eve on which this hunt occurred I felt like I belonged somewhere in The Circle of Life.