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Saturday, June 17, 2006
If You Want it Done Right...: by Dan Infalt Show/Hide This Article
As much as I hated to admit it, my ol' friend Fat Boy had come through for me. He not only got me on his brother in laws awesome property in an area crawling with big bucks near Germantown Wisconsin, but he found another farm near my home that would allow me to bowhunt their prime ground as well. Heck, I would even be willing to let Fat Boy hunt with me on "his" farms since he was good enough to get me on them.
Just before bow season opened, Fat Boy came over to have his usual talk with me. He would always whine about me getting all the good spots, whacking all the "good" bucks, and forgetting to help out ol' Mr. Fat Boy. You know, the usual stuff. But this time it was different.
He was more aggressive than whiny. He said, Dang it Dan, your a game hog! I want some of the action. I said, go get it. Its a big woods, we got plenty of ground, go where ever you want. Fat Boy responded, but the buck always ends up under YOUR stand, NOT mine!
Scouting Mr. Fatty, scouting. You don't scout, you don't kill.
Fat Boy was starting to look a little angry, when he said, You need to take me out and show me how to kill a good buck! You are doing something different, I just know it!
Well, since he outweighed me 3 to 1, and it was actually "his" ground, I guess I could put him onto one of the good bucks, this once.
As we were leaving to go scouting on a hot late August day,my Wife yelled from the living room couch. If your taking that Fat lard butt hunting, you can take my cousin Lee too. I keep promising YOU are going to take him, and you never do. Fat Boy gave me a look down his big crooked nose, and said, now you got her calling me Lard butt! I said, hey man, you can't give me credit, she came up with that one on her own.
We got out to the farm where earlier, during my post-season winter/spring scouting, I had found a real nice patch of timber mixed into one of the nastiest patches of red brush and briars you ever saw. The patch may have been thick but it was real small and was being over looked by the other hunters who didn't think much of this small patch behind the barn.
We set up on a hillside about 300 yards away with our binoculars. Fat boy asked why we were just sitting on a hill behind the barn. Arn't we going scouting? He said. I just ignored him and stared at the bedding thicket till he appeared.
It was a good buck, maybe too good for Fat boy. I looked at Fat boy, his jaw was hanging open, he was mumbling something about what taxidermist he should go to, and was no longer on this planet. I looked at my watch, it was 2:15 PM. I carefully took note exactly which trees he went by.
All the way home, Fat Boys eyes stayed wide open. I don't think he ever blinked. He kept mumbling about the 12 point buck we had seen. I tried telling him, that this was not a good buck for some one who has never gotten a deer before, and he should concentrate on does till the tremors went away, then move up to bucks. But, Noooo, he wouldn't settle for nothing else now that he had seen the 12 pointer.
As we pulled in the drive way, I told Fat Boy not to tell anyone about the buck. He said, absolutely!! I don't want anybody to ruin it for me he said. As we walked in, he announced to my wife that we had seen a huge 12 point. A sudden case of the cold sweats hit me. I tried not to make eye contact, but could feel her beady eyes staring me down.
My wife, Carol, screamed, I PROMISED YOU WOULD HELP COUSIN LEE GET A BIG BUCK!!!! You ain't letting Lard Butt shoot anything till Lee gets a chance. I looked up for Fat Boy, but he had slipped out the side door. I was on my own. I did the only thing a loving, understanding, husband could do. I said, Yes dear, I will take him hunting opening day to go after that buck, SUNDAY the 19th.
Hunting opened on Saturday the 18th, but I would keep that to myself for a while. She immediately called her cousin Lee and told him all about the 12 pointer he was going to shoot.
I kept an eye on the 12 pointer for Fat Boy, he was coming out every day between 2:00PM and 2:20PM. I also kept an eye on an even larger buck for myself. My buck was going to be harder though. I had noticed one of the other hunters on that property watching him too, and he wasn't on such a predictable pattern as Fat Boys 12 pointer.
When opening day arrived, we hunted off to the side in the morning so we wouldn't screw up our sure fire evening set ups. After a long lunch break we decided we better get Fat boy in a tree stand by 12:30 if that beast is coming out daily at 2:00.
I explained that since he opened his big fat mouth, I would be required to take Cousin Lee out tomorrow, and he better get the job done today. We slipped in to where we could get the Lone Wolf treestand set up quietly on the down wind side of the trail. I quietly told Fat Boy the buck would show around 2:00PM, and slipped back out the way I had come.
On my way over to my spot I thought about how sure of a thing, Fat Boy had going. All he had to do was be quiet and shoot straight. Yep, we would be posing for pictures tonight. I silently wondered if I could make it a double as I pulled into the farm driveway where I would be hunting.
I was very saddened to look out over the marsh and see the other bowhunter that had seen "my" buck sitting in a tree right where I was going to go. Oh well, thems the breaks I thought. So back into the truck I jumped. I went back to the big farm where Fat boy was hunting and since I didn't have time to get back to the big timber, I just set up near the farm, which was Ok, because that meant I would be able to watch Fat boy whack the 12 pointer with my bino's.
It did not take long at all I looked at my watch. 2:00PM I sat back ready for the show. I could not see Fat Boy up in the canopy of leaves, but I could see under his tree.
Suddenly the big 12 pointer appeared under his tree. I braced myself waiting for the arrow. A minute later the buck emerged and walked his normal wrought out of the bedding area and over to his staging area, where he stayed till almost dark, before venturing towards the crop fields.
I couldn't believe it. What could of gone wrong? Did he get out of his tree stand and wander off? The questions just kept popping into my head. Finally I slipped down to the tree as fat boy was heading for the truck. What happened I said? He looked at me with a big smile and said, he came in, just like you said! My puzzled thoughts were starting to turn to frustration. Why didn't you shoot him! I said. Fat Boy said, I was so excited when I got up into the stand, that I stood the whole time in the ready to shoot position, but after an hour and a half of standing motionless, I grew tired and sat down. Dan, I can't shoot from a sitting position.
Are you telling me, that you stood there till almost 2:00 then sat down at the time he always comes walking out? Fat boy, could tell I was mad. He said, I promise, when I get back from my 3 day trip up north with the wife, I will make good on the shot. I said, don't worry about it, Because, tomorrow Cousin Lee is going to whack him, thanks to you telling Carol about the buck.
Just as I promised, the next day, opening Sunday, I was taking cousin Lee out hunting. I was going to hunt another farm that was quite the distance from there and had to scout a little to find my spot, so I showed Lee the 12 pointer set up and took him to the stand real early, and showed him how to sneak down there to slay the Slob.
Like usual, I didn't see much, just a little dinker. So I headed back to meet up with Lee. As I pulled into the driveway, he is waving his hands in the air standing in the middle of the driveway yelling... I got him, I got him!!!!!!
I got out of the truck and tried to get some details out of him about where exactly he hit the buck, and if there was any blood, but it was difficult because he was spinning around in circles singing made up songs about shooting the biggest buck he had ever seen.
Oh well at least he was able to pull it together, unlike Fat Boy, and actually kill this beast. As we went down the hill in the darkness with our flashlights to track the buck, Lee told me about how the buck came out, right at 2:00, like I said, and stood under him, while he slipped the string back. He said, as soon as the pin settled behind the shoulder, he released and watched the arrow go right through the boiler room.
Oh, wouldn't my wife be impressed? No doubt after getting her cousin such a beautiful buck, I wouldn't have to do any chores for a year. Heck, she might even call me by my name, rather than... Well we won't get into that.
When we got to the tree, I started looking for blood, but couldn't find any. Where exactly was he standing, I said. Lee said, right by the tree where my arrow that passed through him is sticking out of. I turn around, and there is Lee's arrow, sticking out of the tree 5 1/5 feet from the ground and on a steep downward angle. I said, You mean to tell me that arrow, passed though the deer? Yup, said Lee. I turned around and headed for the truck. Lee hollered to me, aren't you going to check the arrow for blood? Not unless the buck was 14 feet tall I muttered as I headed back.
It took me a while of glassing, but do to the openness of the terrain I was able to locate where the buck moved to. This time, it was my turn. I did not tell Fat Boy, or Lee that I had relocated the buck. When they showed up to Hunt, I put each one about a hundred yards behind me on decent deer trails. We could all see each other, and if the buck came out a little one way, or the other from me. One of those guys would get a second chance.
The buck emerged from a thicket in front of me and headed straight for me. When he got to about 15 yards out he had to decide which trail to take at a split. I aimed towards the heavier trail. He split the other way. I had to move fast but not get seen as I maneuvered by bow between two trees. By the time I got turned around, the buck was almost out of my shooting lane. I quickly drew the bow and as soon as the pin settled I released before he could get under an arrow proof canopy of limbs. The arrow struck a limb that I did not see in my effort to quickly get the shot off. The arrow veered back striking the buck about 2 inches north of his tail. Before I could even shed a tear about the bad hit I saw a stream of blood giuser up into the air out of the arrow wound. The deer ran about 15 yards into an opening stopped, stumbled and crashed to the ground right in plain view of Fat Boy and Lee.
 ...Sometimes you have to do it yourself!
I was about to give a great speech about it taking me to kill the beast, and how they need to learn to get the job done when the chance presents it self, like I did. However, I knew they would likely point out my arrow wound and call me lucky. So I kept my comments to myself, and just said, we did it guy's, the beast is dead. Hey, we all need to get lucky every now and then, right?
# posted by Jarrod Erdody @ 2:50 PM
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Typhoon Tommy: by Dan Infalt Show/Hide This Article
With Dan Jr. and Buddy Dave Dockstader getting there permits both this 2nd from last week of the 2006 season, I knew it would be tough to get them each a bird while filming. Then the weather man threw us a curve ball when he predicted rain all week and heavy winds for Thursday.
By the time Thursday evening arrived, I had to have a pep talk with Dave & Danny who were both down about the weather predictions and the lack of birds. I reminded them to keep a chin up, and be happy, cause the birds were not responding to calls well either, even if you could get them to hear them through the pounding 40 M.P.H. winds. Heck, I said, We might get to hunt all week if conditions stay like this. Besides we are not seeing any other hunters.... So lets have some fun and chase some impossible to kill birds and charish the time afeild.
I got out of work at 2:00PM then headed to meet up with the hunters and another Buddie, Lee Gatzke, for some aggressive turkey tactics. When I arrived at the meeting spot near Concord Wisconsin, they were waiting. It was pouring rain and pretty darn cold for mid-May, but you don't shoot turkeys waiting on the couch for the weather to change.
We decided to drive around all the propertys in two trucks and find a bird to go after useing our binoculars. The 1st farm produced only one lone hen that had vetured out into the weather that reminded me of a typhoon. With wind wipping against the side of the truck with gail force and vertical sheets of rain, we realized quick that all the birds would be on the side of the woodlots that blocked the wind with trees.
We traveled around several other farms without seeing another turkey and had to resort to checking out the public lands around the marsh. For some reason there were no other hunters parked at any of the public grounds. What luck!
We drove over a big hill that has provided a good look out for gobblers cruising the swamp edge in the past. I stopped the truck to glass the swamp edge 3/4 of a mile down the hill. With the wind and rain hitting the truck like a fire hose it was hard to see the swamp edge. Then God shined down on me, with a slight momentary let up in the Jefforson county typhoon, I spotted a dark blob on the edge in the turkey travel corridor, I got the glass's adjusted for just long enough to focus on a big Tom standing in a wind blocked pocket of the feild. I drove the truck out of veiw of "Typhoon Tom's" veiw and went over to Lee's truck to discuss a game plan.
Lee had seen Typhoon Tom too. We decided since the bird was located 1/2 way between each public entrance, I would go in from one way with Dan Jr. and Lee would go in from the other way with Dave. We would each sneak to the turkeys feild edge and try to call loud enough to get the bird interested. If either of us spooked ol' Typhoon Tommy he would likly run right to the other hunter. It was nasty swamp with waist high muck behind the bird, and open wind swept field the other way, so our treelines were almost a sure bet.
Dan Junior and I, raced over to our public entrance that was nearly a mile from the bird and jumped out into the a wind that nearly took me off my feet. We traveld quikly for the 1st 400 yards trying to run into the gail force. as we got to the swamp woods we realized it was flooded and we were going to practically have to swim to our turkey. No time to whine about it. We had to beat Lee and Dave to Typhoon Tom. We were really slowed down going through the water and muck. My rubber boots were filled to the rim with slimy swamp muck. To make matters worse, tree limbs were breaking loose and crashing down near us. Then out of no where it starts to hail little bb sized pellets of ice that were flying through the air vertically like ice cold shotgun blast's to the face. This had to be the most extreme weather, I had ever chased turkeys in.
As we got back to dry land in veiw of the feild with Typhoon Tommy, we started the crawling sneak so as not to spook the bird after all the work involved. We crawled useing tree's and other woodland objects to block our veiw as we crept up to the feild. When we finally ran out of adiquate cover we slithered through the mud to the last two big trees before the feild that held Tommy.
We each got our backs to our tree's and got ready. As I got my waterproof box call out of my pocket I reflected on how much we deserved this bird. This was the most effort we had ever put into a single stalk. It no longer mattered whether Lee and Dave, or Me and Danny got this bird. It was a team effort and everyone was responsible for Typhoon Tommy, the king of public land turkeys being taken down.
I tryed a soft yelp, but I could barly hear it myself through the wind and the ice pellets making such a racket. So I aggressively called very loud, and waited, and waited. Again, YELP!!! YELP!!! nothing! We waited about 15 more minutes without anything happening and the 5:00PM buzzer getting closer.
Finally, I decided to slither up to the grass on the edge of the feild and see if Typhoon Tom was still there. Based on where he was from the road he would likly be within range, so Dan Junior slithered along side with the gun.
We finally got to the feild edge, both of us covered from head to toe in mud. I eased an opening into the grass ever so slowly to peek into the feild. There was only 40 yards from us! The big Tom looked even bigger up close, almost bigger than possible through the haze of rain and hail. Junior got his gun up and drew a bead on TYphoon Tommy. I wispered wait till I get the camera on him.
I pulled my video camera out of its protective plastic bag and zoomed in on Typhoon. I can't discribe the feeling that came over me as I realized the increadable stalk we had just made in conjunction with two other hunters on the other side of the feild only to find out we had stalked a peice of black swamp muck shaped like a turkey.
Oh well its 5:00, time to go home. There is always tomorrow.
# posted by Jarrod Erdody @ 2:51 PM
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