Fresh venison

An Outdoorsman’s Journal

Hello friends, I am in one of the most go for it periods of my adult life. Last night I bear hunted for the 10th day in a row. I am harvesting as much food as I possibly can from my gardens and then I have this job where I travel in the outdoors, do field work and come up with a story each week. I hope you enjoy this week’s column as much as I did, including the time in the canoe, in the tree and at my camp.

Saturday, Sept. 17 High 81, Low 51

Here is the plan. Wake up at my home near Necedah. Run my bear baits in the northern Juneau County area. Drive from City Point on Hwy 54 to I-94 and head to Durand on the Chippewa River. Build a camp, paddle my canoe on the backwaters of the Chippewa, set out three trail cameras, put up a stand and hunt deer with my compound bow for what is the first time I have ever bow hunted this early in the season. Hunt through Monday morning, break camp, drive same route, run bear baits, hunt black bear and get home well after dark.

Folks I am a lean, mean, worn-out fighting machine, but I would rather die moving than sitting around. So camp is built, tree stands, climbing sticks, trail cameras and compound bow are loaded in the canoe, and I am at peace. I get to sit in a tree and watch the world with the potential of pulling my bow back on a deer. My main goal for a kill is a big, fat doe. In all honesty, I do not want to be done with my buck tag, but of course I would be if a really big buck came within 25 yards of my tree. That’s my maximum range.

So, the area that I am hunting is hip boot/wader country and I have a ridge line on one side of me that is very steep, marsh in front of me, and a flooded forest on the other side of the marsh.

At 6 p.m. I see a large deer on the other side of the tags, it is a doe that is about as large as a doe can get. After about half an hour I see a front leg and pull my bow back at a deer that is at 20 yards and one step away from me letting an arrow fly. My quarry senses something and holds up. I cannot hold my bow back much longer but carrying 5-gallon buckets of granola for 155 days in the woods has built my endurance.

The doe steps forward, I release my arrow and it goes through both shoulders. Even though it has only made it 20 yards, I can only hear it but I know that its time in the marsh is over.

I climb down from my tree, take a look at what is the largest doe I have ever harvested, drag it to my canoe, have one heck of a time getting it in my canoe and paddle in the dark back to camp in a very good mood.

Just before midnight the job is done. I am going to bed and too tired for supper. My sleeping bag is in a waterproof canoe pack. When I take it out it is soaking wet and smells. I remember that the last time I used it I slept in my boat, it rained, I packed it wet and forgot to dry it. I say to hell with this, sleep in it and am paddling the canoe five hours later.

No more deer action and no bears on the hunt at home. Live until your heart quits beating!

Sunset