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Friday, December 2, 2005
The Modena Monarch: by Don Gorichanaz Show/Hide This Article
 |  | | I deemed this buck the Modena Monarch because his rack had such mass and character.
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The first time we walked the property in spring we knew that there was a big deer using one corner of the land as his home turf. Huge beds, large tracks and old rubs told a story. The seven year old CRP pines and tall weeds provided ideal cover. We decided to stay out of it as much as possible and set stands up on the edges.
A friend with property a mile away had sent me pictures of a huge nontypical in velvet with a note to keep an eye out for him. A few weeks later he showed up on one of our game cameras. I love racks that carry heavy mass and character. He had both, so I deemed him the Modena Monarch...and I wanted him!
Wednesday, October 18th, 2005, I hunted the morning on the west end of our land. No sightings, but from the stand I could see a fresh rub. Upon closer examination I noted interesting gouge marks and felt certain they were the signature markings of the Monarch.
That evening I decided to hunt the "Hard Luck" stand uphill from the rub where I could get a good view of the area and possibly call him in. Now the "Hard Luck" stand is stand I made out of an old extension ladder I inherited from my late grandpa. Gramps was a diehard deer hunter who had an incredible 25 year run of bad luck hunting. I often thought the curse of Gramps followed that stand. Used on four different properties over 15 years the stand had brought nothing but misery and heartbreak to all that dared to use it. Being only a little superstitious, I still thought there could be some magic in that old stand.
With near perfect conditions, I climbed into "Hard Luck" and settled in. At 6:00pm a big doe and her fawn managed to sneak out behind me. They came out of the CRP and into the cut bean field. Twice I thought of drawing back on the doe but was pinned down. Then I remembered my mission and left them be. Little did I know what a factor those two deer would play in the next several minutes.
|  | | The curse of the Hard Luck Stand was lifted. The Modena Monarch grosses 172 3/8" with 15 scorable points.
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As the Doe walked along the field edge she came right up on path I took in. She turned and bolted back into the CRP with the fawn on her heels. Why she did not blow, I do not know, but seconds after they were back in the CRP, all heck broke loose. Loud crashing noises with the doe now blowing loudly. That was soon followed by a faint grunt that sounded like it belonged to a young buck. Just to be sure I thought I better try and call him in. As I reached for my grunt call, I realized I had left it in the truck. "Dang!" Could this be the cursed stand again.?
With light fading fast, I decided to try to rattle him in. After a fifteen second sequence I set my rattle bag down and waited. Less than a minute later I heard the buck take a few steps, then stop. "Come on," I thought, "Time's running out." Finally he closed the distance, stepped out, and stopped. The buck now stood broadside at ten yards. "Are you kidding me? Its not supposed to be this easy!" I aimed tight to the shoulder but don't remember squeezing the release. I could not pick up the arrow flight in the low light but the wonderful sound of the broadhead smashing thru the chest cavity was music to my ears. He sprinted down the hill. Just as he went out of sight I heard him crash and let out a mournful sounding death grunt. I looked at my watch and saw that it was one minute to closing time. Still not certain of a good hit, I was going to sneak out and wait. But coyotes were yipping and moving in within two minutes. I climbed down and waved my arms and that apparently scared them off.
I then snuck out and went back to camp to wait. As luck would have it my buddy Jim stopped by to see how I was doing. I brought him up to speed and then began to second guess myself. Was he the Monarch? No arrow found at the shot site..."Did I get a good hit?"
Once back at "Hard Luck" we quickly got on his trail. I let Jim lead because of my colorblindness. As I stood at the last blood, Jim backed out and told me I should go first. I took a few steps and there he lay. It was indeed the Modena Monarch. The shot had been perfect, tight to the shoulder taking out both lungs. He had only gone 70 yards. The curse of the "Hard Luck" stand had finally been lifted. Incredibly, I had shot him just ten feet from where he let the trail cam take his picture and less than forty yards from his bedding area. He crashed just twenty yards from what may have been his last rub.
The Modena Monarch grosses 172 3/8" with 15 scorable points, and he field dressed 220 pounds.
# posted by Jarrod Erdody @ 3:03 PM
Close Calls: by Tom Gatzke Show/Hide This Article
The alarm blared at 4:30 AM and I popped out of bed. I was excited to get out bow hunting for the first time in the season. I put a few slices of toast down in the toaster and logged on to the computer. I checked the weather and the forecast was for cold temperatures and a chance of rain with swirling winds. "No problem" I thought, I had just been to the mega Cabela's store and was all stocked up with the latest gadgets to combat any conditions Ma Nature could hand out. The moon charts didn't seem to agree with the solunar charts and the Farmer's Almanac said something about mudslides mixed with a plague of locusts, but I was optimistic and decided to sit all day.
I loaded up my truck with everything I'd need for the day's hunt, and was pleased that I'd bought the quarter-ton. The rut was so near it's peak that even the bucks on the deer crossing signs looked like they were excited. Anatomically correct deer signs coordinated with the phase of the rut, "this county has everything" I thought.
It began to sleet as I pulled into my parking spot. I got out of the truck and started to take the necessary scent control measures. I stripped down to my birthday suit since any clothing that had come in contact with the truck seat was obviously contaminated. Standing there naked in the sleet was humbling as I fumbled through my arsenal of hunting clothes. I decided to try the new electric heated long underwear next to my skin, a loon down vest over that, and the latest and greatest charcoal suit tailored for me by Franc at No-Funk Fabrics. (I have a suspicion that Franc rides with the Colon Cowboys if you know what I mean, but hey the guy has great taste in wine so he can't be all bad, right?) Once I got my rubber boots on I reached for the tackle box of cover scents and doe pisses. I selected a bottle of Golden Estrus from '94 that was just about prime, fox piss, raccoon piss, ferret piss and llama piss. After dousing my boots with all this piss I realized that I might be overdoing it a little, but maybe the deer would be worried about missing their spot on the arc if they crossed my trail and follow me right to my stand. As far as I was concerned I smelled like a rose.
I reached into the truck for my pack and groaned as I hoisted it onto my back, for a second I thought my left nut had relocated to my esophagus, but I sucked it up and took a deep breath. When I first started hunting I just grabbed my bow and headed out to the woods. As I gained experience I realized that carrying a backpack was valuable for bringing extra clothing and a few trinkets that rarely failed to get a deer's attention. I now stood with pride as I steadied myself with a full mountaineering frame pack secure in the knowledge that I had truly arrived as a man of the woods.
After the sixty-five yard walk to my tree stand I was exhausted. It took four trips up and down the tree to get my all my gear up to the stand 45 feet off the ground. I strapped my camouflage umbrella to the tree above me and used a rope to haul up the car battery that my electric suit required. I lit an incense cover scent stick underneath the umbrella. I set up the "Deer View" mirror so I wouldn't have to turn my head to see what was behind me and popped a piece of Gum-O-Flage into my mouth. Shooting light was coming on fast as I plugged in my Walker's Game Ear and clipped the EZ Grunter tube to my coat. I arranged my can calls, rattling horns and quiver so that all were within easy reach and hung my frame pack from a branch above me. Some of the paraphernalia seemed to obstruct my shooting lanes, but there wasn't an item I could do without, and all that gear lashed to the tree was sure to impress any other hunter that happened by.
I settled in to wait it out for trophy buck when the prior evening's chili and Leinie's began to stir. After all my effort in scent control I wasn't about to release anything foreign into the environment, and steeled myself to the pain. I was proud of my umbrella as the sleet turned to rain and the electric suit was keeping me warm in the increasing wind.
Two minutes after legal shooting light I caught a glimpse of a rack moving through some tall grass. The buck seemed to be headed right for my truck, "I love it when a plan comes together" I thought as the buck closed the distance on the Chevy. You see I hadn't parked that close to my stand because I was lazy, I parked it there because there was one trail that I just couldn't cover and figured that the truck would divert the deer within range. They say that bucks don't get big by being dumb and it certainly was the case with this animal. As soon as he got a look at my "Happiness is a Warm Gutpile" bumper sticker, he turned and began to circle downwind of my stand. The wind was roaring by this point and my umbrella was not doing a very good job of stopping the rain that was driving sideways. The rain began soaking to my skin and a severe tingling feeling alerted me to the fact that my electric suit was making connections to places that God never intended them to be made. Sweat began to form on my brow as I watched the buck cautiously survey the area. I could make no sudden moves even though the pain was becoming severe, and I sensed control over my bowels beginning to weaken. The pressure was causing my eyes to water when I felt my sphincter loosen and an "escapee" sound through the forest. This may sound funny to you but the noise was deafening in my Walker's game ear and I was certain that my eardrum had ruptured. The buck heard the note from my butt horn as well, but it did not spook him. He mistook it for a grunt and began to ease closer. I saw a video one time where the hunter just about played Dixie on his grunt call, so I brought the EZ grunter to my lips. I began with fourteen tending grunts, threw in a snort wheeze for style points and was about to finish the sequence off with a "doe in heat bleat" when my Gum-O-Flage got stuck in the tube. I watched the buck through teary eyes and realized that he would not close the final ten yards required unless he heard some more, when I had a Eureka moment. If I could get the Cough Muffler out of my pocket and hold it to my instrument, I knew that I had enough gas built up to play a perfect "lost fawn bleat". I managed to get the Cough Muffler out and the buttons on the trap door of my electric suit undone when the smell of burnt hair came to my nostrils. I prayed that the incense stick was industrial strength as I released the first note of my swan song. Well they say that you should never trust a fart, and that day I learned why. I filled the cough muffler and unleashed a shit storm from 45 feet off the ground. Needless to say the buck was not impressed by my freestyle effort (although I got a 9 from the Russian judge) and ran off.
Disheartened, I disconnected the car battery from my suit and stripped down to survey the damage. Big Jim and the twins looked like they had gotten between a Hurricane Katrina survivor and a bucket of KFC during a lightning storm. The tree stand and the forest floor beneath had been reduced to a biohazard site, but the umbrella still looked good and the "Deer View" mirror had escaped the splatter. I decided to let this stand rest for at least a day.
# posted by Jarrod Erdody @ 3:02 PM
Thursday, December 1, 2005
The Curse of Iowa: by Dan Infalt Show/Hide This Article
|  | | The buck approaches. Could this finally be an end to my Iowa curse? | I headed down the long road from Wisconsin to Iowa with memories of my last trip when bad luck and missed opportunities plagued me. I was hoping we could beat the Iowa spell that was still haunting me. I had blown 3 opportunities on that 1st trip at bucks over 140 class. One of the bucks was a huge typical 12 pointer that would have easily scored over 180 class. My hunting partner's truck also broke down out there leaving us stranded in a cemetery. Although we had seen the best concentration of huge bucks either of us had ever seen, I came home empty handed. After that 1st trip we headed back in January for a long weekend to give it one more try before our 2003 tags expired. We ran into poachers, coyote hounds, and I managed to get attacked by 5 angry rottweilers on a dirt road in pitch blackness as I waited for my partner who was hunting a different farm. Somehow, I had managed to get home alive (and buck-less) and still had a craving to go back...go figure?
It took two years of waiting till we had finally drew archery tags once again. We finally arrived and I immediately got into deer on my 1st set up. I had a 125+ Pope & young, 8 point go by the 1st evening along with a bunch of smaller bucks. That sure was pleasant next to seeing next to nothing in Wisconsin all season. Barry South came along to be my camera man and his help was much appreciated. After giving the 1st spot another try we headed to a huge cornfield with a big block of timber behind it. It was full of huge tracks but it was hard to determine just where exactly the bucks were coming from. I was going to set up conservatively on the down wind side but I got a call on the radio from Jarrod (One of my hunting partners) who told me that he just ran into a hunter heading back by me who said him and a friend and two other hunters from another state were hunting the area hard all week. So I decided to go for broke and make one good hunt of it and move on to one of the other farms we had permission on. I found where the majority of trails that had big tracks and sign came out and followed them into the timber about 40 yards till I hit the cross trail you always find paralleling the field where bucks check all the doe trails heading into the field for the ones entering estrous. My set up covered the situation quite well and we were rewarded for it. Right at sunset a couple does came out and immediately busted us. I have to wonder if they were bedded near by and watched us set up. Barry and I, stood motionless waiting for them to give up on the stare-down. Barry was filming their reaction, when a branch braking up the paralleling trail caught my attention. I turned and saw a nice racked buck out about 60 yards heading right for us. I tapped Barry on the shoulder and pointed. He zoomed in with the camera and whispered its a good one. As it closed the distance to within shooting range I just waited for him to turn and offer me a shot as he kept getting closer. He got directly downwind of the does and I thought, this is it he will turn. Nope. Just kept coming. He got out to about 3 or 4 yards from the base of the tree and started getting nervous, he was definitely picking up some of Barry's funk (I don't stink). He was standing quartering towards me and I thought, I can make this shot if he lets me pull back. The buck had about 14 points and looked to be about a 160 class. He looked back and I got the bow back. I settled the pin and.... Shot right over his back. I just can't seem to beat this Iowa bad luck spell. That was a gimmie shot. Barry was even more upset than me. |  | | My arrow had found its mark as it disappeared into the chest. | At that point I tried to get past it. Am I really cursed in Iowa? It did not help that the butt heads I chose for hunting partners got all over my case about missing the shot on film, and would not let me get past it the whole time I was hunting. Me and Barry decided to go shinning (a legal practice in Iowa, as long as there are no weapons in the vehicle) and find another one to go after the next morning. |  | | Maybe, just maybe, I have beaten the curse of Iowa | We drove the 15 mile trip to the area we were hunting and as soon as I lit up the spot light the trucks electrical power died.... On a dirt road in the middle of no where. When will this curse end? Barry tried calling the guys at the cabin, but apparently they were mad at me for missing a shot on film and would not answer the phones. Barry did not like pushing while I steered, (and was not very fast) so we ended up walking to a house and paying some old guy to drive us back to camp. Next morning I dropped Lee off at his spot and headed to another farm with his truck to hunt for a couple hours before heading to town to see a mechanic. We went to a different farm that we seen a lot of bucks on last time we hunted the area. There was an awesome funnel where the timber a river with vertical cliff like edges and an open pasture met. The bucks that were out cruising for does would have to go though that funnel to get to another doe bedding area. And... The day before we saw a 160 class buck cruise through that funnel from the road. We kicked a few deer out going in, got set up in the blackness of pre-morning and just waited. Deer started filtering in from everywhere. 1st the does came in and filled the bedding areas. Then the small 1 1/2 and 2 1/2 year old bucks came thru cruising. Then, a couple hours after daylight a 1 1/2 year old comes walking down the "cruise trail" looking for girlies with his buddy a 3 1/2 year old mid 120s class 8 point. They came out and stood ten yards out from the tree and Barry gave me the old "thumb's up" I waited about 3 or 4 minutes while they began to get nervous from sniffing Barry's funk. I talked my self into it. It was a Pope and Young and the camera was locked on him. WHACK!! ...right through the boiler room. We got real good footage of the buck crashing down the bank into the river just making it up the other bank out of the ravine and sliding to a halt right where we could back up to him with the truck. Maybe, just maybe, I have beaten the curse of Iowa.
# posted by Jarrod Erdody @ 3:05 PM
Jamie "Rat Slayer" Infalt Scores on his First Deer! Show/Hide This Article
|  | | | Rat Slayer had earned his nickname through long, hard hours in the barn with his BB gun. He was ready for a new name now... | My son, Jamie Infalt, has been into hunting and shooting since he 1st able to walk and play with toy guns and bows. I will never forget the fun he used to have shooting rats in my pig barn. He used to sit in the rafters and wait for hours for a rat to show its self near the small amount of grain he would leave out in a good shooting lane, then whammo he would whack it with a pellet to the head. He used to stack piles of rats on an old table to show me when I got home from work. He had earned himself a good nickname, "The Rat Slayer."
Last year was Rat Slayer's 1st year deer hunting. He had a rough time at it. Every time a deer would get close, he would miss an easy shot or something would cause the deer to spook. When the season was over he was really down on himself over his missed opportunities. I told him to keep his chin up, lots of practice, and time would eventually pay off.
All summer he practiced with his bow. Occasionally we would get the shotguns out and practice with them too. I promised the boy, I would spend a little more time helping him get a deer this year if he practiced often and could keep his aim true. He really surprised me when I tested him before the season. All of his shots were right on, and he new his limits well. I thought to myself, this just might be Rat Slayer's season.
We were having a hard time getting onto deer during the early season. The public land we were hunting was full of hunters and the deer were pretty shot up from the open season and no limits, the DNR had imposed last year in this section of Jefferson County Wisconsin.
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 | | Despite many missed opportunities earlier in the season, this approaching buck gave Jamie another chance. This second photo shows the buck at the moment the slug impacts. | Finally, we hunted a swamp island back in a cattail marsh, where we had scouted out a great bedding area during the previous winter. I had high hopes for this spot and was just waiting for the right wind. I put Jamie in the hotspot, right at the edge of the buck's bedding area. The buck would surely pass through a small funnel where Rat Slayer would be waiting. There was only room for one stand, so I went to the other end of the island and sat near a doe bedding area.
An hour before dark I heard the boy's bow shoot. I turned and saw a big buck running from his direction. It was coming right at me. It slowed to a walk then disappeared into some thick red brush about thirty yards from my stand. I waited till dark and snuck out of my tree stand and circled to Jamie. After looking at the arrow and hair sign, we decided to wait until the next morning to track the deer. He was not in the bed where we last seen him. We followed his blood trail and tracks though thick cattails and muck for a 1/2 mile and ended up losing the blood trail when the deer left the swamp and walked onto a ridge. We searched and searched, but never found the buck. Rat Slayer was sick, he wanted that buck badly, but had not wanted to wound it.
When gun season arrived he had renewed hope, however he got so excited he missed an easy shot at a big doe opening day. I could tell it was bothering him, but he kept his determination. But when he missed another 40 yard shot at a doe Sunday, he was near the brink of giving up. I set up some targets and we checked out his accuracy. He could blow the center out of a target at almost 100 yards. I went over the breathing, and aiming exercise's, I had learned when I 1st started hunting, but Rat Slayer was convinced, he was just plain unlucky. I was even starting to wonder that myself.
I asked Jamie if he wanted to try hunting an Island out in the cattails, where I was sure there would be some action. He insisted we try a little bedding area we had successfully hunted earlier. I asked him if he was sure he wanted to do that? It was the second Saturday of the gun season, and there were a lot of hunters in that section of the public marsh. He said he was sure, and said he had a good feeling about that spot. I said, Ok, lets go! As we were slipping into the staging area adjacent to the bedding area we were hoping would harbor some good bucks for us to get a chance at. I looked up and saw a nice 8 pointer get out of a nearby bed and try to sneak away. I pointed him out to Rat Slayer and his gun went up and quickly sounded. I could tell right away the buck was hit hard as he ran around us and into a woodlot. We barley had time to react, when the buck crashed out the other side of the woodlot through a field and into another woodlot that looked more like a pumpkin patch than a woods (If you know what I mean) The gunfire erupted in there like a war zone. We heard at least 4 different hunters shoot at the buck. I looked at Jamie and said, we are better off letting those guys fight over it.
|  | | A well deserved first deer....but he'll always be Rat Slayer to me! Congratulations son!! | He was very disappointed, but understood. We set up our stands and climbing sticks and climbed into the tree knowing that we had probably already blown our opportunity.
We were not there more than 10 minutes, when we both saw a buck moving in our direction out in the cattails. He was only in view for a few seconds, but was coming through the funnel and would eventually pass if we waited quietly. But before he could show up, a noise to our right caught our attention as another buck emerged from the cattails and was walking right at us. Jamie raised his gun and took careful aim as I zoomed in with my video camera.
Suddenly the buck looked right up at us, then nervously turned to run. But he never got the chance. This time the shot was true. We got down and went over to the buck and Jamie proudly grabbed the antlers and looked at me and said, "I did it Dad!" That 9 point buck will be burnt into his memory forever. Looks like he earned a new nick name.
# posted by Jarrod Erdody @ 3:04 PM
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