2002 Deer Hunting Journal-I enjoyed keeping a journal of last year's deer hunting. I haven't really put in much useful information (like weather, moon phase, etc.), but in the B-zones, the weather is fairly constant... HOT, DRY, and sunny. Also, I know this section could really use some pictures. Some technical complications have separated my working computer from the one with my camera software, so I'm sort of at a loss right now. Hopefully, I'll square this away soon. I'm also taking some shots with the 35mm, and will scan any that have relevance. Of course, if I get lucky this year, I'll have pictures one way or the other. |
I drew B-zone and G-1 tags for this season. Since I am also hunting archery for the first time this year, I'll be able to hunt from 08/17 through 11/03. As you can see, the end of the B-zone and the beginning of G-1 will overlap. I'll straighten this out as the time comes closer, and I decide where I'll be hunting. |
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Saturday, 9/28 0430 - Well, Kat's sick this weekend, so she didn't join me for this hunt. Too bad, because it's really very pleasant here now, as opposed to the killer heat of last weekend. I promised not to hunt Katbird Ridge, since that's "her" spot. I'll head up instead, to My Hill to start the weekend off. 0530 - There's a solid hour before shoot time, but I always enjoy watching the sky up here. There's something really magical about being situated in the woods as night turns over to daytime anyway. There's a good show of shooting stars this morning, and I lay back to enjoy it. 0630 - It seems to be a slow morning. Nothing moving at shoot time. 0700 - I'm glassing to the west when I hear the distinctive sound of brush breaking on the hill behind me. I turn to look and catch the flash of deer hide moving fast through the bushes. I wonder how I managed to spook the deer way up there, at least 75 yards away, when I see another deer close behind the first. I manage to get the second deer in the binocs and see that it's a youngster. A moment later, the two deer go charging back the other direction, a little higher up the hill. In a couple of seconds, I see them tearing across the hill in the original direction again. They're playing tag! This goes on for several cycles before I see a larger doe step out into a clear spot. At risk of anthropomorphizing, it looks almost like mom calling the kids to breakfast. The deer line up and move off in the direction of a bedding area. 0730 - I'm still smiling at the deer games when I catch movement out in the Long Meadow. Even without the binoculars I can see that a nice buck has just stepped up out of the creek and is moving stealthily toward the end of the meadow. I'm cursing under my breath. The trail this buck is on will take him right below Katbird Ridge. Sure enough, I watch as he picks his way into the woods, and then appears moving parallel to the little ridge. He would be well within 75 yards of Kat's seat at this point, and he's closing fast. The brush obscures the rest of his path, but I know that there is a flat spot by the creek just to the south of Katbird Ridge, which offers a very clear shot to a hunter in position there. There is also a bedding area right by the creek, also nicely exposed to the ridgetop. Of all the weekends for Kat to be sick! Heck! Of all the weekends for me to promise not to hunt her spot! 0830 - I'm hoping against hope that the buck will turn and come up the funnel to me. They often move that route, but given the time of day I'm pretty sure he's going to water and bed instead. He hasn't shown up yet, and I'm considering trying to put on a stalk. If he has bedded in the known bedding area, it's very possible that I can get in and take the shot. But if not, I'm more likely to jump him and lose him without a shot. I'm debating the approach in my mind when I hear an excited, "there he is!" from the canyon below Katbird Ridge. A second later, I hear two quick shots. I watch the area around the ridge and the Long Meadow, hoping to see the buck charging back toward me. But it never happens. 0930 - Two figures in orange hats are struggling up canyon, trying to find a creek crossing. As they near a clearing, I can see the big bodied buck they are dragging. My heart drops, and a brief, jealous animosity rises up in me. I watch as they drag the deer for the next half hour, until they finally hit the old road and start up toward the trailhead. 1000 - As the lucky hunters load their deer into the truck, I hear a twig break behind me..very nearby. I turn and see deer legs under a bush, but I can't see anything else. I hear more brush breaking, and crouch down to see better. The movement is detected, and a sudden stampede of grey-brown bodies explodes from the bushes. After a few jumps, though, the whole bunch stops. There are five deer, and not a single one has antlers! They can't see me, but they aren't happy with the proximity so they trot up the hill and disappear into the thick stuff. 1045 - I'm glassing the west ridge now, and thinking about going over to make a stalk along the top. I haven't seen anyone up there this morning. But even as I think it, I spot a hunter moving over the rocks. Dang! A few moments later, I see him look down into Kokopelli Valley. Following his gaze, I see another hunter coming out of the thicket. Across the way from him another hunter is moving parallel. They're driving the canyon, but moving way too fast. In a matter of moments they are past me and headed for the trailhead. The hunter on the ridge hasn't moved far, though, and he still glasses back down into the creekbed. The wind swirls a little, and on it I catch a sound I hate to hear... the yelp of a deer hound. Fortunately, it's a short yelp. He's not on anything, which isn't really surprising considering that those other two hunters came through the same area only moments before. Apparently neither drive was aware of the other. 1100 - When the hounds and three hunters break cover at the north end of the canyon, I decide to head back to the truck. I arrive as a truck pulls up to wait on the drivers. We talk for a while, and I find that this is the same group that pushed that big buck last weekend. They got a shot at him, but no hits. 1200 - The rest of the crew comes up the trail, and there is a lot of socializing. I talk to them for a while, but I'm really happy when they finally pack up and leave. I turn to fix lunch, but even as I do I hear the crunch of tires pulling off the road to park. A couple of locals gets out. They want to go check out the apples. I mention that the trees are bare, but I guess they want to go see for themselves. One of them packs a bolt-action rifle, so I figure they're going to go drive the thickets around the orchard. I mention how many people have already come through, but they go anyway. I guess I can't blame them for not really believing me. Probably seemed like I'm just trying to protect my territory. Oh well. I eat lunch, and crawl up in the back of the truck. It's nice and cool, and I think it's a perfect time for a little reading and a nap. I'm working on Philip Caputo's Ghosts of Tsavo, another book about African hunting. This one is more about the lions themselves, and less about the hunters, but it's still very good reading. Even so, I nod off pretty quickly. 1430 - I wake as the three guys come back up the trailhead to leave. The nap was refreshing, and I'm ready to hunt. I'm loving this cool spell. 1530 - I decide to go back to the rockpile where I finished out last Sunday's hunt. If it stays quiet in the canyon for the rest of the evening, it should be a good hunt. 1700 - The sun is dropping over the west ridge and the evening is promising to be nice. Maybe the crush on "my" canyon is over at last. A covey of quail drops down off the canyon wall and hops around in the brush near the orchard. A couple of ravens croak about what's left of the gut pile down in the south end, where the buck was killed this morning. 1715 - It's coming on to what I call "prime time" as the shadows fall from the west ridge and start to darken the canyon. I settle in and find a good rest. If the deer are going to move, they should start soon. Best of all, I finally have Kokopelli Valley to myself. 1730 - Like a cosmic slap at my sense of calm, I see a truck pull up near mine and stop. Doors slam as two people get out, and I watch through binoculars as they gear up. OK, no problem. I'm a mile away. They're not going to come all the way in here. They'll probably poke around the Long Meadow, or maybe cut across to the west ridge. 1800 - Caution: Rant Ahead! They're coming! I can't believe my eyes. What idiots are going to try a stalk at sunset, with the wind at their backs, knowing that there are other hunters in the canyon? Not enough that one of them is in a light grey t-shirt that is flashing like a white flag in the shadows? I wince, knowing that any deer that might have been moving down from the west ridge is going to see that and bolt. My blood boils as they keep coming closer and closer. They stop at each thicket along the way, throwing rocks and trying to jump nonexistant deer. Hasn't it occurred to them that, if there's someone else in here that it might be smarter (and at least more considerate) to find a good vantage point and take a stand? Finally they have worked their way within a couple hundred yards of me. I stand and whistle. The first of the two doesn't notice, but Whiteshirt does. Apparently he's blind, though, because he looks right at me but doesn't seem to see me. He raises his hat and waves, and I wave back. A moment later, he continues his encroachment, now climbing the hill right toward me! When you are hunting an area where you know there are other hunters, and you hear a whistle, does it mean "come on up"? Most intelligent beings would probably interpret it as "go away, I'm hunting here." Or at least that's what I would expect. I finally stand up and stage whisper, "Hey! I'm already up here!" His partner, in the meantime, is working the foot of the hill just below me... oblivious to the interaction. I toss a couple of rocks down ahead of him to get his attention. He brings his rifle to ready arms, and tries to wave his friend over. Does he think those rocks are deer crashing down the hill? I want to pick up a good sized rock and bean him with it. Of course, I'm well aware that a rock fight could quickly turn into a gunfight, and that's simply not something I'm willing to chance. Whiteshirt is still standing there, staring at me. I wave him away. Instead of leaving, he goes down to where his oblivious pal is standing and seems to discuss things with him. Then they head off toward the east. That's not ideal, but at least they're leaving the gully and creekbed alone so I can hunt in peace. Too late, I realize that they're sidehilling around me! The jerks! Instead of going back down and finding an unoccupied piece of canyon to hunt, these peckerheads are going to just go around me, as if that's not going to ruin my hunt as well as theirs...not to mention the safety aspects! They sidehill around until they reach a steep ravine, then drop down into the very creekbed I've been glassing for two and half hours! I watch the flash of white t-shirt as they move noisily through the creekbed until they finally emerge right back where they started, in the clearing at the foot of the hill. I'm too pissed off to even say anything, so I sit chewing on my tongue as they wind their way back up the road to the trailhead and leave. 1915 - Fifteen minutes of shoot time left, and those jerks are just driving off. They have managed to disturb nearly every square yard of the canyon bottom, and the white shirt has most likely spooked anything moving up on the west ridge. I'm still too angry to get up, though, so I sit until dark. 2030 - Back at camp it's too cold for a full shower. The solar shower has already chilled down anyway, and the water is less than lukewarm. I shampoo my head and sponge bath to remove the sweat from my upper body. Everything else will have to wait 'til tomorrow when it's warmer. I pour a glass of tequila and try to relax before making dinner. This is public land, after all. And I can't expect everyone to be courteous and respectful. Heck, those two guys may not have even known any better than what they did. I think my tendency to always give the benefit of the doubt is sometimes a weakness, but maybe I shouldn't have been so pissed off at those two guys. The tequila is obviously mellowing me. Dinner made, I eat and watch the stars for a while, then turn in to read about Caputo's adventures in Africa. Sleep comes surprisingly quickly. Sunday, 9/29 04:15- Up and at 'em again. I'm feeling better this morning. I'll start the day up on My Hill. At least I should see some does again. 0600 - Nice and quiet, relaxing, and then it happens. Three trucks have rumbled by on the road above me. The cool thing about My Hill is that it's less than 200 yards below the road, but from the road you can't really even tell it's here. From this position, I can see most of Kokopelli Valley, but I can also see a really rich thicket and series of ravines that are practically invisible to road hunters. But as I sit waiting on sunrise, one truck doesn't go by, but stops directly above me. I can see it sitting up there. Oh well, I think, I deal with road hunters up there every season. They can't see what I can see, and they don't usually bother the deer. 0630 - A coyote almost walked right onto me, and is yapping at me from the thicket a few yards away. It reminds me of a little dog barking behind a fence. It yaps for a little longer, then moves on to find a place to hide from the day. A few minutes later I am shocked to hear the sound of a car door slamming, followed by another. I look up where the road hunters have parked in time to see them exiting the truck. Slamming doors? Didn't anyone ever teach them these things? At first I half-expect them to be the same two guys from yesterday, but it's a different truck and there are three guys. They stand around chatting and sipping coffee as shooting light dawns. I'm sure they have no idea of their proximity to a feeding and bedding area, but I still can't believe their noise and carelessness. Needless to say, the most consistent spot I've hunted produces not so much as a doe or fawn this morning. 0830 - I look up and see that the road hunters, or two of them anyway, appear to be throwing a frisbee or football! I've had enough. I pick up my gear and hump it back to the trailhead. 0900 - I go ahead and break camp and ponder where to go for the rest of the day. Kokopelli Valley has been hammered for two weekends, and needs a break. I'm sure someone else will be here before the day is out anyway, but I need to move on. I start up the truck, still not sure where I'll go. I drive down the mountain and reach the forks. Turning to the left, I will cross the creek and head up into another area. I could hunt up the creek, but it's kind of chilly and I don't feel like negotiating the rocks today. Across the creek and up the other side there is an area I haven't hunted in a couple of years. There are some places there I've always wanted to scout. I'm just not motivated. I turn right and head for paved roads and home. As much as I hate cutting a hunting day short, I simply don't have any patience left for the crowds. Time to look at some wilderness maps and see if I can find a decent location for a pack trip. But next weekend will be another short hunt. I'm bringing Mim up with me, so maybe I'll plan to drive a bit and scout.
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