Hunting Articles by Blood Brothers Outdoors

Bowhunter Magazine Article: Marsh Madness

2009-07-29T06:52:00.000-07:00

Here's a link to the article Bowhunter Magazine published (written by
Dan Durbin) in 2008:

http://www.bowhunter.com/feature_articles/BH_marsh_1108/index.html

Kalamazoo Gazette Article: Trio combines love of hunting, new media skills in Web site project

2009-07-29T06:51:00.001-07:00

Here's a link to a nice article that was written about us:
http://blog.mlive.com/kalamazoo_gazette_extra/2008/09/
trio_combines_love_of_hunting.html

Dad, me and the Bridge

2009-06-24T19:10:00.001-07:00

Grandpa, uncles, cousins, about a dozen family members busied themselves loading a string of 12' aluminum V-bottoms slapping against the floating wooden pier. Strong cold winds with spitting snow made others question the sanity of leaving our cabin but there were no doubts in my mind. This was my first time in Canada, I was 15 and nothing would stop me from being a part of the stories I had only been told of. I sat waiting in the boat tied furthest from shore, Dad was late.

An eternity passed before we were on our way, Dad was excited too. He directed our way out, map in one hand and half spilt coffee cup the other. It was the beginning to an entire day. His hand never left the map, mine never the throttle. Our fishing that day was slow and tedious, Canada shouldn't have been that difficult. Dusk was upon us and we were somewhere between lost and turned around before crossing under the first of three low bridges telling our way back to dock. Dad jumped at the sudden noise, he never saw the bridge coming, always facing me and keeping himself warm while I took the elements head on. He jumped again at the second bridge, it was then a plan dawned on me. I fought back grins as it detailed in my head, this was too good to tip Dad off.

Bridge number three was our worst. A closed draw on the channel side made clearance the tightest yet. I kept our craft pointed straight at full tilt and inches before passing under I faked a quick lunge downward while yelling my best near death "LOOK OUT!!!!!" My amazingly reactive Father hit the bait like a starving school of stripers. In the moment it took me to regain the throttle he left his hat in mid-air, sent the coffee cup sailing and emptied an always open tackle box on his way to cover. He finished at the boat's bottom curled up tight with hands laced overhead. The motor's whine covered my hysterical laughter as he stayed protected amongst fish slime and treble hooks. I was having a tough time breathing and almost crying by the time he peaked up to see me. Oh, did the cursing begin!! First me, the bridge, the boat, then me some more until finally he sat forward and shot a finger towards camp. To this day he has never again turned his back with me at the helm :)

The Ant and the Grasshopper

2009-03-31T13:10:00.000-07:00

The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his
house and laying up supplies for the winter.

The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and
plays the summer away.

Come winter, the shivering grasshopper calls a press conference and
demands to know why the ant should be allowed to be warm and
well fed while others are cold and starving.

CBS, NBC, PBS, CNN, and ABC show up to provide pictures of the
shivering grasshopper next to a video of the ant in his comfortable home
with a table filled with food. America is stunned by the sharp contrast.

How can this be, that in a country of such wealth, this poor grasshopper is allowed to suffer so?

Kermit the Frog appears on Oprah with the grasshopper, and everybody
cries when they sing, 'It's Not Easy Being Green.'

Jesse Jackson stages a demonstration in front of the ant's house where
the news stations film the group singing, 'We shall overcome.' Jesse then
has the group kneel down to pray to God for the grasshopper's sake.

Nancy Pelosi & John Kerry exclaim in an interview with Larry King that
the ant has gotten rich off the back of the grasshopper, and both call for
an immediate tax hike on the ant to make him pay his fair share.

Finally, the EEOC drafts the Economic Equity & Anti-Grasshopper Act
retroactive to the beginning of the summer.

The ant is fined for failing to hire a proportionate number of green
bugs and, having nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes, his home is confiscated by the government.

Hillary gets her old law firm to represent the grasshopper in a defamation suit against the ant, and the case is tried before a panel of federal judges that Bill Clinton appointed from a list of single-parent welfare recipients.

The ant loses the case.

The story ends as we see the grasshopper finishing up the last bits of the ant's food while the government house he is in, which just happens to be the ant's old house, crumbles around him because he doesn't maintain it.

The ant has disappeared in the snow.

The grasshopper is found dead in a drug related incident and the house, now abandoned, is taken over by a gang of spiders who terrorize the once peaceful neighborhood.

MORAL OF THE STORY: Be careful how you vote.

Wisconsin's Public Land Hunting Paradise

2009-03-27T06:44:00.001-07:00

The following is a PDF of a great article about Wisconsin's Public Hunting possibilities, used with permission from Bowhunting the North Country magazine.

http://www.bloodbro.com/articles/btnc_publicparadise.pdf

Hunting Forum Tutorial: Displaying PhotoBucket Videos in Posts

2009-01-04T06:58:00.001-08:00

Many of you use PhotoBucket to post videos and photos to the web to share with friends and family. Here's a quick tutorial on how to get your videos to display right on a post in our hunting forum. View an example.

1. In Photobucket, on the page with the video you wish to have play, you'll see several options for linking or embedding the video on that page. Copy one of the "embed" chunks of code.2. Go to your post you wish to make in the forum. In the blank new post, paste the embed code.

3. Now, within that embed code, you'll see a url to the actual video file in question. Highlight this and copy it. Delete everything else. See this example:

(I've highlighted in blue the part to copy. Delete the rest.)

4. Now up in the buttons area where you see the "img" and "video" buttons (just above the posting area), you'll see a button called "pBucketVid". Click this. Doing this will put the start and end "pBucketVid" tags in your post.

5. Between those tags (the cursor should already be there), paste that url to the video file that you copied in step 3.

6. Click submit and wah-lah!

I hope this helps you post some great videos from your hunts. If you have any other questions or requests, please let us know by emailing us at info@bloodbro.com or posting something in the hunting forum.

You Did it Man (A Hunting Poem): by Dan Infalt

2008-12-08T11:55:00.000-08:00

Here's to the Bosses
and Wives who just don't understand
what it is like to be the Hunter man

The blood and the sweat
and the mud in your eye

Getting out of work early
with a little white lie

Here is to getting lost in a swamp
and getting home late
living on pretzels
and praying for fate

The close calls
The bad calls
Shots you can't take back

The broken down truck
and 20 below
A glimpse of a rack
and 2 feet of snow

Sleeping in your backseat
flat out of cash
a hole in your boot
and a nasty swamp rash

And at the end of the season
when your broke and half dead
you hang your new mount and just nod your head

HERE'S TO YOU!!!
You did it Man!!!

How to Make Custom Aluminum Arrows: by James Squires

2008-12-08T09:58:00.000-08:00

The following is a detailed HOW TO post on making your own arrows from raw shafts. This article walks you through making an aluminum arrow. I'll try to write another post in a couple weeks for carbon shafts as the process is a bit different.

This post is not intended to show the definitive method for arrow making but it shows my method which is tried and true. I have never had a problem with fletchings coming off or inserts falling out. I know a lot of guys that pay shops a good premium to have their arrows made only to have their fletchings and inserts fall off during practice. I am a perfectionist when it comes to my arrows and equipment and making my own allows me to tinker with various options and gives me a truly custom arrow.

Materials

The first photo illustrates the various tools and materials needed for arrow making. (Kids Care-Bear cup in background not needed)

Fletching Jig

Acetone

Bon Ami Cleaner

Fletch Tite adhesive

Fletchings

Arrow Shafts

Inserts

Utility Knife

Ferr-L-TIte

Hack Saw with fine-tooth metal blade

For my tutorial I am using Easton 2219 XX78 raw shafts. These shafts come with pre-installed nocks so I will not be demonstrating nock installation here, but you can basically copy the method below for inserts to install a nock. I stress that all serious bowhunters use a quality shaft/arrow. In my experience "you get what you pay for".

Cutting Arrows

I begin by marking the desired length on my raw shaft with a sharpie. I have a special cutting jig that fits in my vise for cutting arrows to length. I use a very fine hack saw blade made for metal. I've heard of some people using pipe cutters to cut aluminum arrows. The problem with this is that the pipe cutter will put a small kink in the end of the arrow which I do not like. When you put your insert on it will not be perfectly flush. My method allows for a perfectly flush insert.

The end of the shaft is typically not perfect so I make it perfect using a fine file against the end of my jig.

Next you need to de-bur the inside of the shaft using a utility knife. This will prevent any splintering around your insert.

Now we are ready to install the insert. Note: You have to work fast here so make sure everything is ready at hand. Begin by heating the shaft over an open flame. I like to use a small alcohol burner as the burning temperature is low which is important as you do not want to overheat and damage anything. You can use a gas burner on a stove but be careful not to overheat. Avoid using candles as they leave a residue on the shaft and insert as they burn.

Once the shaft is hot (4-6 seconds) quickly stick the end on to a corner of your Ferr-L-Tite and rotate. The idea here is to get a thin coat of Ferr-L-Tite on the inside of the shaft. Next heat up your insert over the flame and quickly rub it in the Ferr-L-Tite coating all sides. Holding both the shaft and insert over the flame press the insert firmly into the shaft.

Excess Ferr-L-Tite will ooze out as you push the insert in. Simply wipe the excess off quickly with a shop cloth.

You have completed the insert installation. I have never had an insert come lose or fall out using the method above.

Shaft Preparation for Fletching

Begin preparing the shaft be cleaning the fletching area off with acetone. During manufacturing and shipping the shaft picks up unwanted chemicals and dirt. Acetone will remove chemicals. [b]Note[/b] Be sure to work in a ventilated area.

It is imperative that nothing comes into contact with the fletching area after this step. Oils from your fingers can cause adhesion problems later on. If the fletching area becomes contaminated at all repeat the cleaning process

After using acetone we need to do a final preparation of the shaft. For this I use Bon-Ami cleaner. It is simply the best as it will not scratch the shaft but does a great job preparing the surface. Some guys use fine sandpaper but this leaves deposits and removes arrow material. Vigorously clean the area with Bon-Ami. After about a minute or two of cleaning rinse the shaft under your sink being careful not to touch the area.

Note: If the water beads on the fletching area then you did not clean enough with Bon-Ami. You want the water to "stick" to the area and not to bead.

To dry the shaft shake it back and forth until all of the water is absolutely gone. My kids love this part! (Don't worry you won't bend the shaft)

Once dry place the shaft into your fletching jig. (I like to put a heavy field point on the end of my shaft as the extra weight keeps it in place)

Fletching Your Arrow

I am fletching with feathers for this tutorial but the method is identical with vanes except for one step which I will point out. When using feathers make sure you select 3 that are the same length. They are typically very close but vary by a couple millimeters. It's typical to have 2 feathers of the same color and 1 feather of a different color for the nock feather.

Always start the fletching process with your nock feather. Your fletching jig should have an indicator on the dial for the nock feather. Rotate the dial to the starting point. Next carefully slide your fletching into the magnetic holder. Note: Make sure not to touch the base of the fletching with your fingers. Again we want to avoid contaminating the fletching with oil from our fingers. Your fletching holder should have measure marks along the side of it. Make sure you align the fletching with the same mark each time. You can experiment with the measure points as you fletch your arrows.

Note: Skip this step for Vanes!! Most people do not realize that almost all feathers actually come from real turkeys raised on farms! They are simply dyed and cut. Turkey feathers have some natural oils in them. For extra good adhesion I like to run a little acetone across the feather base. This step should be avoided with Vanes as some vanes are coated with chemicals to aid in bonding.

Run a small bead of Fletch-Tite along the base of the fletching. I use original Fletch-Tite for feathers and Fletch-Tite platinum for vanes. I've never had any luck with the instant glues out there. Recently I've heard of some people using gorilla glue but I have not tried it myself.

Gently set your fletch holder onto the jig. Make sure you align it the same for each fletching to ensure a consistent feather. Don't worry about the small beads of Fletch-Tite that ooze out the sides; they will dry flatter than you think and you can always trim them with a razor blade once dry. Wait 3-5 minutes and run the backside of a thin knife blade along the fletch to help it contact the arrow.

Allow the fletching to dry. In my experience 30 minutes is the shortest I can wait for a good bond.

Repeat the process for the 2 remaining sides

Finally I like to put a tiny dab of Fletch-Tite at the tip of each fletching. This is a point of stress when your arrow passes through a target and it will help in keeping the fletching from peeling off.

And that's it! You should now have a custom made arrow that won't lose fletchings or inserts. For feathers I like to coat them with some of the water proofing products on the market. It helps a bit on those rainy days in the stand.

Making your own arrows is an enjoyable hobby that allows you to experiment with various fletchings and setups.

The Bear Creek Road Bear: by Greg Lease

2007-01-06T11:48:00.000-08:00

Mid-August in Minnesota means one thing to me - bear baiting. There's nothing like kicking the season off by loading molasses, dog food and grease on to waiting ATV racks and heading out for the bear woods. Every year you can bet I'll be running the ever familiar bait route while always keeping an eye out for new areas to establish another successful bear pit.

The 2006 baiting season found my four-year old daughter, Layne, and me rumbling down the backwoods trails traveling from bait site to bait site laying down food that only a bear, and the occasional coon, could love. We checked our pits one by one as we dumped food, threw molasses and cleared shooting lanes from the stand trees. Layne helped out by dutifully performing the all-important bear baiting job of assaulting small trees with sticks at every pit we tended.

A week and a half later Layne and I were thrilled to find all five pits were being hit regularly. One of the bait sites, which I nicknamed the "Bear Creek Road Pit" sported a pretty nice front pad track in the fresh dirt. I was thrilled with the four inch track because, this being a new pit, I had no idea if the area was conducive to decent sized bears. The track hadn't been left by a Boone and Crocket class bear, that's for sure, but it definitely could belong to a good sized sow.

September 1st was bitter sweet. Two days earlier, while driving to bear camp, my bear hunting buddies Al and Chris and I stopped for some last minute supplies at an area sporting goods store. The folks there gave the bad news that many of the local bear hunters reported their pits going "cold" over the last couple of days. We finished the last several miles of our journey crossing our fingers that our pits had not suffered the same fate. Wrong!

Later that day we sadly discovered that two pits had gone cold all together, two had sporadic hits in which we obtained some trail camera pictures of a couple decent bears. We also learned the reason for the slow down - acorns, and lots of them. Curses I thought. One pit though, the Bear Creek Road Pit, continued being slammed. All the work, travel time, expensive gasoline bills, and time away from family had seemed worth it when each of the pits looked promising. But now, spirits were a little low in the Lease bear camp and the reality of a tough 2006 season set in. Oh well, you know what they say - a bad day hunting is ALWAYS better than a good day working. The good news, besides the trail camera pictures we'd gotten at the other pits, was we also retrieved over 60 great pictures of the bear whose track I'd seen a week and a half earlier at the Bear Creek Road Pit. Although not overly long or tall, this gorgeous bear looked like a 55 gallon drum with legs, which is usually a good indication of a mature sow. Al and Chris had already committed to other pits which meant only one thing - the Bear Creek Road Pit was all mine.

At 3:00 on opening afternoon I was high in a basswood tree 12 yards from the pit. It was a beautiful, slightly overcast and cool day which seemed like the perfect conditions for Ms. Bear to make her appearance. It was also perfect for filming and I hoped to get good daylight footage with my video equipment for the boys at Bloodbro.com. Because many of the trail camera pictures tipped me off that the bear was making numerous fast food visits as early as 4:00 p.m., I was hopeful of getting my first up close and personal look of the year at a Minnesota bruin in broad daylight.

At 4:25 I happened to look to my left and was lucky enough to catch a millisecond-long glance at the rear end of a bear as it walked through an opening in the early September foliage only 30 yards away. A minute later I caught movement to my right as the bear apparently looped around the backside of the pit while contemplating its next move. Again I lost sight of the ghostly bruin as it changed positions for a second time. A moment later, after seeing an extra "shadow" right next to the bait opening, I knew it was time for the bear's grand entrance.

With videotape rolling, the bear slowly emerged from the shadows and sauntered onto the scene, sucking up marshmallows and candy peanuts that were scattered around the ground. Because I didn't have a cameraman, I let my bow hang as I tracked the bear with the camera until the pit and the bear were centered in my viewfinder. After making sure the zoom and focus were correct, I left the camera in the care of my trusty camera tree arm and slowly reached for my bow. Only a minute passed when the bear presented the perfect shot. I set the arrow free and watched it disappear just behind the shoulder. In a flash the bear was gone. I listened as the bear loudly bolted through the thick brush until everything went quiet. Did it pile up? Did it run out of earshot? I didn't know. That familiar little tinge of doubt penetrated my thoughts as it usually does after a shot. This time however, it appeared my worries may be valid as I realized the shot could have been a tad low.

While giving the bear ample time, I watched the shot several times on video. After what seemed like 1000 reviews, I felt better and was sure I had accomplished the famous heart shot. My renewed hope was validated when I climbed down and found ample blood all over the bait logs.

A short track job past the blood-soaked pit and I was rewarded with my 2006 Minnesota bear. The mature sow proved to be one that anyone would be proud of, especially when I realized she had a tint of chocolate coloration to her full and flawless coat.

A short track job past the blood-soaked pit and I was rewarded with my 2006 Minnesota bear

The Bear Creek Road pit was added to the ranks of special bait sites creating lasting memories I hope to share with Layne one day. You can bet that next year I'll be watching the Bear Creek Road pit closely with the hopes of capturing another successful hunt on video.

Food Plot Pay-off: by Lee Gatzke

2006-12-26T11:51:00.000-08:00

In early October my food plots, which were planted on Labor Day, started to sprout rape to go along with the oats which had come up a few weeks before. The oats had drawn so much attention that when the rape sprouted it was being eaten before it got more than a few inches tall. The three plots that Reed & Hoppes Wildlife Food Plots had planted for me, were all being hammered by deer. Jim Reed and Brian Hoppe had both told me that planting the plots in a blend of seed that would furnish a variety of food over an extended period of time, each timed to sprout as the other matured, would draw deer to the new growth that deer preferred. Different seasonal foods provide the nutrition necessary for growth and good health during the course of the whitetails year. Based on the factors these professionals described, oats, rape, winter wheat and rye were mixed together and planted on Labor Day. The timing of this planting would ensure that the new growth would draw deer during the hunting seasons, something that I never would have considered since I'm a novice at food plotting.

By mid-October the winter wheat was also making it's appearance, however, it was also being eaten so quickly that it was hard to notice it. Growing season was now pretty much over and the rye seeds will remain dormant until springtime, when they will sprout to provide a needed source of food as the deer come out of winter. Looking over the plots in Mid-October they appeared to be a well kept lawn that a grounds-keeper was mowing and fertilizing, not a food plot. The grounds-keepers were the deer, and as autumn turned everything else brown, my food plots were green and busy with deer. It became obvious that since the deer had over-grazed my food plots that the rape would never be able to mature to the point where it would provide a worthwhile food source once the snow covered the landscape. The plots stayed green until the snow covered them, but all the plants had been trimmed to about one inch tall, so they would not be worth digging through a foot of snow to provide food later during winter. This was definately a problem worth dealing with, since it meant that the deer knew this new food source was something they would have to hang around and keep tabs on for as long as it produced.

Even though the deer ate up all the rape and winter wheat pre-maturely, the deer still remained active on my property right up until late November. Bow season was by far the best we've ever experienced. We had 4 bowhunters on my property this fall, and 3 of them scored on bucks between 140" to 157". I was the only one who didn't let an arrow fly, only due to the limitations of not being able to get a clean shot at the shooters I did see. Two of the bucks taken were killed on one of my two properties that rarely produced a buck over 140". This property had been a nursury for bucks until they reached 2&1/2 years old, then they relocated somewhere else. Since we do Quality Deer Management, we limit ourselves to bucks of at least 140" or better so we are real happy with the way the food plots have drawn and retained older bucks. It was interesting that we saw so many older bucks this year and only a few 1&1/2 and 2&1/2 year old bucks. The best explaination I can give is that the older bucks are out-competing the younger ones for the food that is now available, and won't tolerate them hanging around the food plots. Just like they out-compete them for a doe during the breeding season.

I expect that in the springtime the rye will green up before anything else and continue to attract hungry deer. The variety of plants found in my food plots are different from what the neighboring farms are offering, namely; corn, beans and alfalfa. This unique blend in my plots has really drawn deer to my place and has held them here during the hunting season. The only failure I can see with my plots is that they are not large enough to withstand the numbers of deer eating them. The food plots were eaten to the point of being over-grazed by late October. A larger plot would have been able to withstand the numbers of deer better and been able to grow it's forage base longer and provide food well into December. This year, my plots ranged in size from 1/8 to 1/2 acre, next year they will be bigger. I expect that with bigger plots the hunting will get even better, maybe even I will score next year!

The One that Got Away: by Bob Dobson

2006-11-30T11:52:00.000-08:00

It was 4:30 AM, I knew we were going to be late but still couldn't help feeling overly optimistic. The outside thermometer read 20 degrees, a fresh 2" of snow laid in the yard, the rut was peaking and I couldn't think of a better recipe for bucks to be on the move. To top that, my friend Dan Infalt was up from Jefferson and we made plans to swap hunting/filming for the weekend. Seemed like I couldn't ask for more but already had. Being a selfish host, I called dibs for the bow on our first hunt, a venture deep into public land. We whipped our gear in the truck and hit the road.

A month earlier, I took a rainy afternoon to scout this area and found three small scrapes at the rim of a valley between two ridges. I wasn't overly impressed at first but remembered several wrist sized rubs found during a spring turkey hunt at the corner of nearby planted pines. I checked them and nothing was fresh but heavy scarring showed this was a year-in and year-out buck travel route. I decided this spot needed a hunt or two but no more than that. I was already a good mile back and a lung busting hill at the start left me wondering how many more years my body would hold up to this type of abuse.

As we neared the parking spot, I caught a pair of eyes in the far ditch. Rounding the corner, headlights landed on the rack of a 2 year old buck. Not the size we were looking for but he showed full rut while trotting away from the road side. I gunned it the last quarter mile, pulled in and we hit the ground running. On the way up never ending hill, one of our frequent rest stops revealed a good set of tracks next to one of those quick scrapes made by a buck on the move. I begged to be sitting my hotspot at that moment but for the last half mile we stayed in the harder, less traveled woods until reaching the valley rim just as shooting light appeared. A straight trunked red oak downwind of the scrape/rub area with a fork 25' up was tailor made for hunter and camera man. I set the climbing sticks trying not to think about missing the first 15 minutes of shooting light until reaching the fork. Climbing down, half frozen fingers remembered there was more than one hunter on site and asked Dan if he could hang the stands. Not wasting time to chide me, he hung both and we were set in no time.

The morning was gorgeous, a white blanket below with crisp still air kept me on high alert for the first hour. But like other hunts, anticipation surrendered to cold winds and the lack of any fresh sign below. The scrapes I'd found in October were long since gone and our only saving grace was one fresh rub Dan picked out just off the base of our tree. Idle chit chat had given away to long stares when I heard a muffled crack to my left front. I looked over to see nicely spaced G2's and 3's fifty yards out and whispered shooter buck but not knowing for sure if he really was. As I stood the buck turned towards us and confirmed my initial thought. I knew without a doubt he was going to be in range soon and the mature timber was certain to allow an open shot. As he plodded closer I took a couple deep breaths to keep my nerves at bay and focused all attention on his actions. Just as I was sure he would pass downhill and to my left a 90 degree turn took him broadside heading to my right. With one look at his chest the "in range" light lit green and my legs instinctively crept forward to the stand's front allowing a full draw without obstruction. I glanced ahead for a wide opening and found just that beyond a small popple tree.

As he stepped into the kill zone, adrenaline cranked up the volume of my stop bleat and he slammed on the brakes, whipping his head and locking eyes on me. The pin had just found on center behind the shoulder when the string dropped. I saw no arrow, no white nock, no spinning fletches. My shot had gone everywhere but through the vitals. I was in disbelief when he took two jumps and trotted off only slightly distracted from his morning of lady chasing.

I cursed and immediately blamed my misfortune on not settling the pin for that crucial half second. It seemed as though I'd hit a new hunting low. I just had a full bodied nicely horned eight standing over fresh snow in broad daylight with a camera rolling over my shoulder and blew it. Worse yet, now I had to explain this scenario to an audience. Somewhere in my depressing skit I mentioned how the buck was probably Pope and Young. Camera man Dan, a veteran big buck killer, said "Dude, that buck was at least a 140!!!!" I tried to reason that he didn't have very good brow tines but that didn't seem to make anything better. We sat the next hour but I really didn't have it in me, the cold winds were a nice excuse to get out of the tree. Reaching the ground I soon found my arrow 21 steps from our stands. Looking close at it's angle and distance beyond long striding tracks showed it should have smashed right through his chest. Now I really didn't know what the hell happened but it didn't matter much, another bragging rights buck was running the woods instead of riding around in the back of my truck.

It was a long walk back but I tried to keep my chin up. I did a lot of things right on this hunt. Scouting and reasoning put me in a location where most people wouldn't go and it produced a shooter buck on the first crack. I had kept my composure from first sight and was able to avoid mistakes up to the point of shooting. Maybe I didn't lay the pin on him as well as I could have but history showed a shot like that resulted in heavy blood trails and punched tags. The urge to look at that tape grew stronger with every step.

We reached the truck, loaded up and headed to the closest TV. First review showed this buck was a hog. Not a monster rack but long bodied and barrel chested, easily a four year old deer. It was hard to watch so I busied myself making a sandwich when Dan blurted out "You missed him by three feet!!!" I was in no joking mood and voiced my attitude when he replied "No, seriously you were there feet in front of him!!" I watched in slow motion and sure enough a black streak appeared three feet in front of his shoulder. I've missed deer before but by three feet at 21 yards hinted something other than buck fever kept this one walking.

We watched from front to back a couple times before the clue surfaced, a little tick noise just as I reached full draw. I knew what that sound was before a practice session in full gear confirmed it, my arrow wasn't on the rest at the shot. The combination of one heavily mittened bow hand, new fall away rest and a broad head tuned by Murphy's law cost me the ride on cloud nine. It was a tough pill to swallow but easy problem to fix. My fall away now resides in the "will never use again but too expensive to throw out" box replaced by thoughts of his tracks and the snow days I'll get before season ends.

Tracks... Taking a Closer Look: by Dan Infalt

2006-11-15T11:53:00.000-08:00

Small bucks and large does can be hard to tell apart. But once a buck gets to Slob status, a buck track is easily identifiable. The weight of bucks over the 200 pound mark will cause the hooves to splay apart on the front feet. Us Blood Brothers often use our closed fingers to measure a track. Thus a "4 finger" track is generally a buck that will dress over 200 pounds. It's important to look at the big picture though. Look at a series of tracks and make certain the splayed tracks are of a walking buck, not running. All running deer will have splayed front hooves. Another trick is to look at the stride of a walking deer and see how far apart his steps are.

I think tracking is way over looked by modern hunters. Hunters living in today's fast paced society worry to much about getting from point A, to point B. Most hunters need to slow down and notice the signs the deer we are hunting are leaving behind for us.

I use tracks to tell me the size of the bucks in the area and what individual bucks have been hanging around. And how many different big bucks are using the same area.

If I shine or see a certain buck in a field, I go back and check his tracks in a lot of cases. You will find that mature bucks have tracks as unique as there antlers if you train your eye to look close. Some tracks will be very short but wide, others will be long and skinny, some bucks will have a chip or two missing in there hoof leaving a very recognizable impression. You will also notice the very tips of the track will hook in different directions. This can be very useful in keeping track of individual bucks.

You can also look at the direction of the track, some bucks feet will aim outward, some inward, some straight ahead.

I should also mention, that the left and right hoof will often not match each other, so its important to study both.

I only study deer tracks in areas where I will not be hanging a stand for scent reasons.

A lot of the time, after shooting a nice buck that I am not positive whether or not it was the track maker, I will return to the area and check the crop fields to see if his fresh track is there or gone.

In winter after the season, I like to go to my hunting areas and find the tracks of the bucks I was hunting and follow them in the snow to learn how each buck travels the ground I hunt, and where he beds.

Question:
How can you tell between a bucks front tracks and his hind tracks?

Front tracks are noticeably larger. Front tracks also sink in deeper and splay more do to the heavier front end on a mature buck.

You will get the idea after you study some tracks. I would suggest visiting some fields a day or two after we get a good rain, and study some tracks. I would also suggest you find a fresh track in the muddy field and take a close up clear digital photo of it. Return every day for a week and take another photo daily. Compare the photo's

Question:
say you see a track and am pretty sure it's a good buck but can't find that series of tracks to make sure?

It can be hard to tell if a single track is a running, or a walking track. If the track is indeed a running track, there should be some subtle signs you can pick up on. Does the track have debris thrown in front of it from a running hoof impacting the ground? Does the track look as if it slid forward adding to the length and splay?

Often, if a running track is fresh, or only a couple days old, you can see the running tracks even on ground covered with vegetation or hard. A 200 pound buck running through the forest leaves a mark. Many times I have tracked large bucks after they are shot, with little or no blood trail and could visibly see the disturbed leaves on the ground.

I Guess what I'm trying to get across is you need practice. Another valuable tool to learn is how to age a track. That is very difficult to do sometimes. But it can have great rewards. Like say you see tracks in the morning that appear to only be a few hours old leading into a known buck bedding area? I know where I would be setting up that evening.

When you go out to the muddy fields to study the tracks, look really close. Look at the definition of the tracks edge. Is the mud cut sharply? Or has weather and time began to round the corners? Look for detail, like the fine lines around the edge of the pad, can you see them? or have they faded with time? Look at the small mud balls and broken pieces of dirt, that have broken free from the large foot cutting the soil. Are they still moist? Are they sun dried? Are they cemented back to the soil?

Question:
Wouldn't there be a "ridge" of dirt between the hooves where it first makes contact with the ground and then spreads apart as weight is applied?

In alot of cases yes. But some older deer tend to develop feet that seemed to be stretched to a permanent splay over time from the weight being on the feet for several years.

In moist or wet soil, alot of the time these permanently splayed bucks will trap large hunks of mud between there hooves that will drop off between footsteps. We like to call these hunks of mud "wedgies". The wedgies take on a unique shape.

Question:
HOW CAN I TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A BUCK AND A DOE TRACK?

To tell the difference between a buck and a Doe track:

A buck has a large chest and narrow rear.
A doe has a narrow chest and slightly larger rear in comparison.
A buck's rear track should fall slightly to the inside of the front tracks (Rear track gap from left to right foot should be narrower than front track gap)
A does casual rear track should be slightly outside of the front tracks. (Rear track gap from left to right foot should be wider than front track gaYounger deer in general tend to step there hind feet into there front track.

Doe track, notice the rear foot stepping in the same track as the front slightly to the outside.

If you look close you will notice a lot of displaced soil from when the beast pushed his foot into that spot. The chunks of soil still show good signs of there original shape and have not "weathered down". The soil highest up from the impression has dried, telling me the track is at least 1/2 a day old, however, the lower chunks and the track itself are still moist, telling me its not much more than a day old. I have also noticed the lack of displaced soil, telling me the track was probably made while the ground was dry, perhaps the evening before the photo? The mud chunks do not look to have attached themselves to the ground yet either... You can check that by touching the chunks with your finger or a small stick. After a couple days, the chunks will stick to the soil underneath. You should also notice the defined cuts in the soil, and shape of the center wedge. Also indicating a semi fresh track.

My best guess would be, this track was photographed in the late morning and made sometime in the evening or early in the night before the dew occurred.

Now that I am semi- confident we know when the track was made, we would want to identify the track in case we notice more big tracks. We would be interested in knowing if more than one big slob lives in the area, and where the buck / bucks are hanging, what food sources he is preferring etc.

So, I would want to see both tracks and either take a good digital pic, or just use your memory. The 1st characteristic that catches my eye is, the track appears "square" the actual hoof impression looks to measure close to 3 inches square. (Not including the dew claw impressions)

The next one you see might appear rounded or longer than wide, for instance.

I also notice the two sides each point outward and straight ahead.
Then I always look at the very tip closely, they often hook one way or the other and don't always match side to side, or hoof to hoof. This Dude appears to have no hooking on the tips on each side, and the tips are pointing forward and slightly outward (look close).

This is another unique track. At 1st glance, most hunters would call it a running track, but if you look close the edges are sharply cut, there is no sliding of the, and no debris thrown forward of the track. This is a walking track.

Short, right toe, with right side tip hooking inward.

Running track with obvious debris scattered forward of the track, although the track appears fresh, the sides are busted from the deer hoof impacting the ground and flinging forward.

When I get scouting camera photo's from good bucks, I will look at there tracks and try to memorize the image and subtle differances of his impressions, so I will know if I run across the track again.

Another way to keep track, is to cast the track in plaster and keep it to review.

Creating Food Plots

2006-10-31T11:55:00.000-08:00

Last December I was bowhunting my property during a cold spell which I'd figured would have the deer on a feeding frenzy during daylight hours. I was hunting close to a cut-over cornfield that showed some fresh tracks in the snow but the sign was mostly old, probably because the cornfield was already pretty much picked clean by the deer. As I shivered in the 6 below zero conditions, without seeing any sign of life, I realized that I needed a better food source to attract and hold the deer on my property. I knew my neighbors had planted food plots and I figured that was were the feeding frenzy must be taking place.

I don't have any farming experience, or a tractor, or any of the implements necessary to plant my own crops so this spring I contacted a food plot specialist to see if they could help me. Reed & Hoppe's Wildlife Food Plots, located in the Wausau, Wisconsin area, were recommended to me so I called Brian Hoppe to find out if they would be able to travel the two hours to my farm to do my food plots. Brian said that they plant food plots all over the state and surrounding states, so we scheduled a meeting during the Wisconsin Deer and Turkey Expo in Madison where they had a booth displaying their food plotting business. I met both Brian and Jim Reed at their booth and we talked the perils of food plotting and how to avoid common mistakes so that you would have food plots that would attract deer 9 months out of the year. We planned to start the plots in late summer or early fall of this year and put in a variety of crops based on factors that would be determined once they visited my property. Since the areas where I wanted the food plots located hadn't been planted in at least 14 years, these guys would have their work cut out for them to get a crop to grow.

Brian came to my property to gather soil samples, so that he could determine what type of fertilizers were needed and how much lime would be required to prepare the soil for planting. He suggested proper locations for planting based on creating a successful crop and being able to hunt it effectively. We also discussed which types of plants would attract and hold deer best year-round. He also took into consideration what the local farmers were planting and based on that we decided to offer something different than the usual corn, beans and alfalfa that were so prevalent in the neighboring farm fields. We agreed that a variety of something nutritious that was not now available to the local deer would work best to pull them in. Brian came up with oats, rape, winter wheat, and rye. He explained how these crops would mature at different times, offering something the deer would need nutritionally during the course of their year. Brian and Jim are avid deer hunters as well as encyclopedias on food plotting, and they know what crop is attractive and necessary to deer at the different stages of the season. Brian suggested we plant oats, rape, winter wheat and rye. He would plant them around Labor Day to enable the plots to produce the young sprouts of oats that deer prefer for the bow opener in mid-September.

Reed & Hoppe's Wildlife Food Plots, a food plotting service provider in Wisconsin, planted this gorgeous plot of oats late this summer. We're already seeing great improvements with our hunting.

Then after the oats matured to the point where they weren't such a magnet, by early October, the rape and winter wheat would have come up to the point where they would be a great fall and early winter food source that will provide a crop hardy enough to last well into December. The rye will sprout the following spring and act as a natural herbicide to help control weeds and also a fertilizer after being plowed under to plant the new crop later.

The 2006 bow season opened September 16th and the oats were coming in real well in my food plots. Deer tracks were everywhere in the food plots and I wonder if the oats will be able to grow faster than they are being eaten. It looks like I'll have to stand guard over them to "protect" them from all those hungry deer. That's a problem I hope will continue until the bow season closes in early January. Our hunting group saw more deer and bigger bucks this past opening weekend than we have in many years.

Jarrod Erdody with slob buck taken as it worked towards a food plot of oats planted in late summer by Reed & Hoppe's Wildife Food Plots.

These food plots may just pan out as well as I was hoping. I'll be monitoring them closely and hopefully they will make this year a banner one for hunting, maybe even make it worthwhile to hunt in a December cold spell.

Anyone wishing to learn more about food plotting or to contact Reed & Hoppe's Wildlife Food Plots, visit their website, www.foodplotting.com.

The Wide Buck: by Dan Infalt

2006-10-03T14:45:00.000-07:00

It all started on a cold February day when a hunting buddy, Jamie Martin, and I were on a scouting mission in Waukesha County Wisconsin. While looking at a buck bedding area on the top of a thick ridge, Jamie found a nice 5 point shed. It was pretty obvious that the buck was spending a lot of time bedding there, at least late in the season. We took the time to study that bedding area inside and out. I looked at exactly how that buck was traveling in and out and where he was staging.

Later that summer, I glassed and shined the nearby fields watching for the buck. I also watched other areas where I had access to hunt and located several good bucks including a monster 9 pointer. By the end of August I had the 9 pointer patterned real well and felt confident I could get him, if I waited for a day when the wind was perfect.

Shortly after the season started in September, Andrae D'Acquisto, good friend, and owner of the Lone Wolf treestand company, called me to tell me he had glassed a wide 10 point in one of the areas I was hunting. He told me where he saw it and said, now go git er done.

I went and glassed the area a few times and finally saw the deer. He was very wide, one of the widest, I had ever seen. I set up on him a couple times while I waited for the right wind to go after the monster 9 point. Either buck would make an awesome trophy, but the 9 pointer's massive size haunted my dreams. So the hunt for the wide buck took a backseat. I wished I could take them both.

Finally, one day in late October after glassing the 9 point in a bedding area a couple days in a row, I got a break with a wind change and was able to arrow the beast. (See article: The 400 Pound Slob)
My bow season was done.

When opening morning of gun season arrived, I hung my Lone Wolf stand on the edge of the bedding area where Jamie had found the shed antler. About a 1/2 hour before legal shooting light a deer came slowly crunching through the leaves heading to the ridge to bed down. When he got right underneath me I could make out his wide rack, but it was just too dark to shoot. A couple hours later, two hunters walked right through the middle of the bedding area. Now my chances of tagging this buck, this year were dwindling. I moved around trying the other bedding areas, sitting in new spots each sit, but was unable to find the wide buck.

Towards the end of our 9 day gun season, Andrae called again. He said, listen, I seen that buck in the field again in legal shooting light. You either get your butt over there and whack that thing, Or when bow season opens back up, I will (Andrae only bowhunts). I said, "Yes Sir!"

My Wide Buck has 15 scorable points and a spread of just over twenty-four inches.

The next morning I hung a stand in the darkness on the edge of a bedding area near that field and sat until 11:00am... nothing but a little guy. I got in the truck and headed home. As I passed the field where Andrae kept telling me he was seeing the wide buck I stared out into the field. Suddenly movement caught my eye. I hit the brakes, and grabbed my binoculars. There he was standing in a treeline browsing in the middle of the day. I quickly drove past so as not to spook the buck. I got about a 1/2 mile past him and turned around. I drove right back past glancing over for just a second making sure he was still there. I went back to my parking spot, got my shotgun and headed out.

I hurried until I got close then started sneaking up to the field. I crawled through some trees to a fence line that was on the edge of the overgrown field that held the buck. As I got to the fence, I wondered if he would still be there. I slowly eased up into a shooting position using a tree to steady myself. There he was staring at me 50 yards away broadside. I knew he was going to bolt at any minute, some how he had sensed my approach and was at full alert. I struggled for a moment to get the wobble out of the crosshairs. Then they seemed to just lock in behind his shoulder and the 12 gauge fired. The buck wheeled and ran for the thick cover, but he didn't make it.

The buck has a basic 10 frame, however he has lots of stickers, 17 points that you can hang a ring on. 15 scorable. He has an inside spread of more than 24 inches. What a season, two true slob bucks within a few weeks.

Here is the slob 9 pointer I shot with my bow a couple weeks before killing my wide buck. Read my story of this 400lb. Slob.

Chicken Hill: by Greg Lease

2006-09-27T14:46:00.000-07:00

Storm clouds were forming, and the threat of rain was very real. "What do I care," I thought, "I'm not made of sugar." I broke the speed limit as I drove to my hunting area for the start of Minnesota's bear season. I couldn't wait to get up in the tree and thought nothing could dilute my excitement.

Forty-five minutes later, while in the stand, I realized the one thing that could steal my excitement was rain, hard rain. In fact, it looked and sounded like Armageddon as thunder, lightning and wind nearly shook me from my tree. The horizontal rain quickly soaked me to the bone and turned my bait-pit into a small pond. I was determined to stay on stand until dark, hoping the rain would stop. As it turned out, the rain slowed from what seemed like a tidal wave to a mere monsoon. I sloshed away from my stand that night a little disappointed, but knowing I had tomorrow to try my luck again.

One month earlier while scouting the edge of a ten-year old clear-cut, my buddy, Mark, and I found what looked to be a very good spot for a bear bait. An ash swale intersected the edge of the clear-cut forming a natural bear travel route. While searching for the exact bait location, we jumped a large covey of immature grouse causing Mark to nearly mess his pants. As Mark picked himself up off the ground, I managed to stop laughing long enough to congratulate him on his courage while assuming his fighting stance just prior to tripping and falling over. As could be expected, Mark didn't see the humor quite like I did and he let me know it by throwing some unmentionable expletives my way. Regardless, the grouse had been flushed from a knoll which formed a natural rise on the edge of the cut. This high ground would help disperse the sweet aroma of a bear bait. Because Mark and I always name our pits, I coined this spot Chicken Hill. We left the woods that day with Mark thinking I named my pit after those grouse.

Day two brought clear skies and renewed hope as I again approached Chicken Hill. My pit had been getting hit regularly but I was shocked to find this time it had been blown up sometime during the night. The logs were spread around as if someone had dropped a grenade. Some logs were ten feet from the hole. The pit was licked clean. After dumping my bait and resetting the logs I made the twenty foot climb to my stand in three steps. I quickly settled down for the evening, daydreaming of what was to come.

One hour before dark I thought I saw a shadow move about sixty yards directly in front of me. I blinked several times and after refocusing realized that, sure enough, there was a bear, and a good one at that. The dark colored ghost slowly floated in my direction. I watched with my binoculars as the bruin took one or two small steps and then would stop for minutes at a time. It was obvious the bear was nervous. My stomach tied itself into knots as it seemed the bear would spook at any moment. After what seemed an eternity, the bear momentarily stood up on its hind legs, sniffed the air, and then slowly sauntered off, never to return before dark.

Day three was bitter sweet. Yes, I was blessed to be hunting and my pit was cleaned out again but that darn bear had made me gun shy. My worst fear was that it had winded me the previous day and had turned into a "night bear." I was also pretty sure it was the only bear hitting Chicken Hill which added to my stress. I could move to another pit but what fun would that be? I had to try my luck again.

Just as the day before, the bear appeared sixty yards in front of me, an hour before dark. The routine was repeated and again it cautiously moved off into the brush. Thinking it was all over but the crying, I resigned myself to the fact I may have to give up on this one and move to greener pastures. I soon realized though it was not all over when I saw that familiar shadow moving toward the bait only twelve yards in front of me. The underbrush barely moved as the bear silently and cautiously snuck toward the pit. After ten minutes, the bear had only moved five yards and was now almost nose to nose with an unfortunate little marshmallow which lay at the edge of my pit. The bad news was the bear had strategically used every scrap of cover to get to that point, and I simply had no shot. Just then, and in one fell swoop, the bear sucked up the marshmallow, wheeled around, and headed for the hills. I couldn't believe it. I had finally gotten to within twelve yards of a shooter bear and had been out-foxed. As I sat there I was teased with an occasional snapping twig as the bear meandered about at a safe distance until dark. But I had a plan...

I arrived on day four with a glimmer in my eye. It was obvious this bear was a bear of habit, which was a weakness I intended on cashing in on. Before re-baiting, I took a closer look at the little point of underbrush the bear had used to outsmart me. I was elated to find all of the twigs and grass very matted down. I knew it was the bear's driveway to this fast food joint, and he ate out often. With clippers in hand, I nipped away a small hole in the underbrush just big enough to shoot through if given the chance again.

As predicted, the familiar bear arrived on the trail directly in front of me an hour before dark. After turning into the woods at the same point it had each time before, I stood and readied myself for what was to come. The bear soon appeared at the base of the little point and ever so slowly, crept toward the bait. As it neared the edge of cover, the bear stopped to munch on a small pile of grease-soaked dog food and meat scraps I had strategically placed. The bear laid down to eat, and I was pumped to see its lungs perfectly framed by the hole I had clipped in the foliage. As its right front leg reached out toward the food, I drew, let out half my breath, settled my twenty yard pin, and released. The shot was perfect as my arrow drove through both sides of the bear's rib cage. With a startled growl, the bear took off through the woods, and soon my ears were rewarded with the sweet sounds of three death bawls.

After a short blood trail, I found the large sow on her entry trail. She sported a prime cape which later made for a beautiful shoulder mount on my cabin wall. She was obviously a mature and smart bear who helped create one of my most memorable hunts. I feel honored to have played the proverbial chess match with her on Chicken Hill.

Early Season Success

2006-09-18T14:47:00.000-07:00

It was my second evening on stand here in Wisconsin on this opening weekend of the 2006 bow season. I had succeeded in earning the right to hunt bucks this evening by successfully harvesting a doe the evening before. The weekend had been full of rain and warm temps to this point, but skies were clearing and temperatures were dropping. It was shaping up to be a good sit.

Earlier in the afternoon I had scouted this spot for worthiness of a hunt. Though subtle, I saw all I needed to see as I walked the overgrown logging road a couple hundred yards into the timber along a ridgetop. There was a natural puddle of water about 4 inches deep and only 3 foot by 3 foot around. This was a new lease for me this year but prior conversations with my hunting partner (and cameraman this night), Shawn, and careful review of topos and aerials revealed to me that the end of this ridge should be a usual buck bedding area. This water puddle was no doubt well known to the local critters and it could be just the ticket to ambushing a good buck in daylight.

With a southwest wind, I knew this spot was right this evening. Anything bedded at the end of the ridge would be laying on the east facing slope and basically have the wind at their back. To get to the water hole they would have a crosswind. I would sit the down and across-wind side of the puddle and should remain undetected to anything approaching.

With my stand and plan set, I returned to my truck to clean up, get dressed and get Shawn, who would be filming me this evening. Shawn brought his Lone Wolf hand climber and setup about 15 feet behind me from the puddle, providing a good angle to any action we may have.

As the evening passed, only a few small critters showed. We saw just about every color of squirrel out there as well as a raccoon, but no deer.

With about a half hour of good light left, I whispered to Shawn in my wireless microphone that it was getting to be about "that time" where we should be seeing something if it's going to happen. It wasn't but 10 seconds later that I turned my head towards the end of the ridge and noticed movement.

"Shawn, I see a deer down the ridge." I whispered without moving. It's a buck, and it has a rack." Without binoculars, I couldn't tell yet whether it was a shooter. Shawn started taping, and as he found the buck in his viewfinder and zoomed in I heard him say, "He looks pretty decent."

When the buck reached the top of the ridge he made a 90 degree right turn and headed right for us, well, for the water puddle at least. As he got closer, I could see he was pretty wide. I guessed him about 18 inside.

At forty yards, he turned right again and started circling into the puddle a bit more downwind. Now I could see he had pretty good G4's and long beams. "He's looking pretty good" I whispered to Shawn.

"I'd shoot him," I heard Shawn whisper back. I was holding myself to a 140 class minimum on this farm so I continued to remain fairly calm as I wasn't yet convinced I was going to take him. But as the buck again turned his head another way, I saw a couple stickers coming off his tines and also saw he had really good mass. I'd made up my mind.

"I'm going to shoot him, Shawn." Those were the last words we'd speak as the drama played out.

The buck turned again and came straight in to the puddle, dropped his head and began slurping down water, facing directly at me only 10 yards away. I stood ready to draw any moment as I waited for him to finish what I hoped would be his last drink. I had decent lanes both left and right of him so I just told myself to stay calm and wait this out.

About two minutes later, the buck started to his right, my left. I drew when he stepped into my 2 foot shooting lane through the thick, early season foliage below me. With a slight quartering towards me angle, I waited for his next step forward but knew I would need to put the pin tight to his shoulder. As he took that step, I let it fly and an immediate "WHACK" ended the silence.

All hell broke loose as the buck busted through the thick cover and downhill. I saw right away that my arrow had found its mark and was over halfway into the chest. "That's a dead buck Dude!" was my immediate reaction to Shawn as I watched him take out trees on his death run.

3 seconds later it was all over. Though we didn't see him fall, Shawn and I both felt great about what we'd just seen and knew he shouldn't be far. We gathered our things after discussing what just happened and then headed back to the truck to meet up with our other hunting friend, Glenn who'd been hunting elsewhere on our lease.

After giving Glenn the good news, we decided it best to return to our other friend Lee's place where we were staying to get his 2-wheeled deer cart. Neither Shawn nor I had our 4-wheeler with us this weekend and it's always best to have some help getting deer out of the rugged terrain of Buffalo County.

Upon arriving at Lee's, we found out our other buddy Dan (Infalt) had been busy whacking does this night, so we swapped some stories and footage, gathered our things, and 2 hours later were finally back at the farm to get my buck.

With a tight shoulder shot, the meat will most often cover up the hole through the chest. I wasn't sure if my arrow made an exit hole, so I wasn't very surprised that we didn't find blood right away. The thick, head-high cover was making staying on the right exit path difficult so I climbed back into my stand and directed Shawn and Glenn from above. They scanned the ground for blood for a short while. As they got to the general area I'd last seen the buck, they started panning farther out with their lights.

One minute later I finally felt the feeling I've been waiting a long time to feel. "Come on down, Jarrod, I see a belly," were Glenn's words. The buck had pretty much crashed where we'd last seen him. I hurried down the tree to go have a look.

"He's about everything you described and a little more" Glenn said excitedly as we high-fived. As I took my first look at the buck and put my hands around his rack, I knew I'd made the right choice in shooting. I'd killed a mature, slob buck with a beautiful early season cape and a rack with all kinds of character.

This is my mature, early season slob buck. He has 13 scorable point as a main frame 10 point. He has double forked brow tines and a sticker off his right G2 and G3. His inside spread is 19 3/8". His live weight was 250 pounds and he field dressed at 193 pounds. The rack scores 144 1/8" gross and 134 5/8" net typical.

Fortunately our drag out of the woods was downhill to another old logging road. Then we had just a couple hundred yards uphill with the deer cart. It was 1:30 am before we finally had him out of the woods, loaded up, and back to Lee's cabin. My 8 hour drive home to Michigan would have to wait until later.

As any completely addicted whitetail hunter knows, when you finally achieve a goal you work long and hard for, you don't want that moment to end. We took pictures even further into the now cold, crisp night and it was 4am before we finally had supper! I guess that would be breakfast. We relived the moment on video over a few beers for another couple hours and reluctantly called an end to a perfect night in the early bow season of beautiful Buffalo County.

A Morning to Remember: by Greg Lease

2006-09-11T14:48:00.000-07:00

It was late September, one of my favorite times of year to hunt. I was in a familiar set, a large oak tree standing tall over a good set of hardwoods. My spirits were high as the clear sky's sun broke the horizon to the east and illuminated the multi-colored forest I overlooked. With bow in hand, I was hunting my northern Minnesota property and was set up between some clover food plots and a pretty good bedding area. The morning was the first cool one since opening day, and I hoped that one of the several bucks I had recorded on my trail camera would leave the food sources a little later than usual. It had been a tough September so far. My food plots were being ravaged but due to the warm weather, deer movement had been mostly at night.

The hardwood stand I sat above served as a good transition area between feeding and bedding areas and also provided a light but tasty snack of acorns for the deer during their travels. I knew of one or two "shooter bucks" in the area and hoped I might finally get an up-close and personal look at one of them.

An hour after daylight I was startled out of my daydream by the sound of movement. Eighty yards in front of me and to my left I saw the body of a deer protruding from behind an oak tree. The deer was large and my heart skipped a beat as I realized that this was no doe. The deer's head was obstructed as it slowly fed through the brush and I watched as it munched its way toward my twenty-five foot high perch. The buck soon fed into an opening. That's when I took my first in-person look at one of the two good bucks my trail-cam had photographed the month before. The three and a half year old buck sported a ten-point rack which stood high and fairly wide, with good mass and tine length. I estimated him to score 125 to 130 points but his body was the real marvel.The buck's neck was thick and grew thicker as it made its way down to his broad chest and shoulders. The trophy's belly was round and obviously full of clover as it married up with large hind quarters.

As the buck fed toward me, it slowly veered to my left and it became clear that I wasn't going to be fortunate enough to get a point blank, no-brainer, shot. I picked an opening in the foliage for a shot and estimated it to be thirty yards. As the deer methodically browsed by, it finally stepped into the opening. I drew my bow, settled the pin just behind his left shoulder, and touched the release. The arrow flew true, however I had overestimated the yardage. This, coupled with the deer slightly "jumping the string," caused my white crested arrow to connect with the spine instead of the coveted "sweet spot" behind the shoulder. Regardless, the buck dropped in its tracks.

I patiently waited for five or ten minutes to compose myself. By then, he'd expired. I excitedly climbed down and walked the twenty-five yards to where my prize awaited. I held the ten-pointer in my hands and savored the moment for a long while. I realized just how big of a body this buck had. He would later weigh in, field dressed, at 207 pounds, and the ten-point frame rough scored 124 4/8. As the sun rose high in the sky, the festivities commenced with a photo session and finally an ATV ride back to the truck And of course, I had to show him off a little to family and friends.

The Predator Within: by Dan Infalt

2006-09-07T14:48:00.000-07:00

You have anxiously awaited opening day. You climb into your stand two hours early. As you sit in your seat as still as a stone, there is a rage of emotions inside of you. You question all the summer-long planning you have done. Where will the buck come from? Which trail will he use? Where will he be standing when the lethal shot of carbon is sent through his ribs? Will I miss? What if I wound him? Did I make too much noise coming in here? You play it back in your head like the rewind button on your VCR. Over and over you fantasize the buck walking out, and your arrow slicing through his vitals.

Suddenly your daydreaming is slammed to a halt as you hear a branch break from down in the buck's nearby bedding area. You feel your heartrate pick-up. You struggle to hear anything else. Then, after what seems to be an eternity, you hear the rhythmic approach of walking feet in the dry leaves. Is it a squirrel? No it can't be. Snap... Another branch breaks closer to your stand. You feel your heart slamming the walls of your chest. Your breathing is getting so rapid, you are now worrying about the deer hearing the rapid bursts of human exhaust expelling from your lungs.

The buck you have watched all summer, the buck whose sheds you picked up last spring, the very beast of your obsession suddenly walks into view. At first your mind can't comprehend whether this is the 1000th time you fantasized him stepping out, or if it's reality?

As you stand as motionless as possible, staring through the beast's eyes right down into his soul, the hair on the back of your neck stands up and you feel a tingling sensation shooting down your spine. The monster buck finishes his survey of the area, flicks his tail, and starts coming towards your stand. As he walks in your direction, his eyes seem to be staring a hole right through you.

Now as he passes your perch, you ease the bow back. NO!!! Not yet.. Wait... now! suddenly an arrow rips from your string as if the bow shot the buck all by its self. You can't remember the shot.. Sweat runs down your face, in the 45 degree setting sun. You begin to shake. What the hell just happened? I don't know, but it's better than sex. Ain't no needle in the world that can give you that high.

We all get those emotions... We all worry, we all anticipate. If you don't, hang up the bow and go play golf. 100 Bucks on the wall or zero... All any of us are worried about is the next one. It's the predator within.

Treestand Strategies: by Dan Infalt

2006-08-07T14:49:00.000-07:00

Which Way?
I'm a right-handed shooter, so in most cases, if there's only one main trail being covered, I'll face the stand in the general direction I anticipate deer movement to come from and sit off to the right of the trail so the deer will pass by broadside and a shot will require minimal movement. Facing where they come from minimizes movement required to watch for deer. You won't be required to turn around to constantly check for deer. Play the wind, but always try to setup off to a side of the trails so you'll have a broadside shot when they get in close. Key idea: minimize movement, and spot the buck before he spots you.

Stand Height
Every situation is different. Cover is the main factor, but there are many others. Given an ideal situation, I would sit about 18 feet high. In the hilly terrain of Buffalo County Wisconsin for example, in order to hunt in the staging area, at least the ones that are adjacent to bedding points jutting off of bluffs, you must hunt very high. The thermals and wind swirls will often play mean tricks to even the most seasoned hunters at just the wrong moment. Getting your scent as high as possible can be just the ticket to slapping your tag on a Slob buck in that situation.

There are no thermals in the marshes I often hunt, but there are definitely problems with swirling winds when hunting the points that extend out into the cattails where the swamp slobs hang. On more than one occasion, a buck's life has been spared due to a sudden change in wind direction off a point like this. So, again, the higher the better anytime terrain will play with wind direction.

You must be higher in open woods too. You have to either get up to where you have enough cover to conceal you, or higher than the buck will notice.

You might say, "Well, easy! I'll always hunt high!" But there are some good reasons to hunt low as well. The most important reason for hunting lower is safety. The shorter the fall, the lesser the impact. Another major factor for choosing a lower stand is in arrow trajectory. A deer's lungs sit side by side. When a deer is on ground level and broadside to you, both lungs are in line. If you hit one, you almost always get both, cleanly killing the animal. However, as you raise your position higher, your shot angle gets steeper, making you much more likely to just hit one lung and lose that animal while tracking.

If you are hunting open territory like I have experienced in Iowa and Illinois, or if you're in the only tree in the middle of an ocean of cattails (and who hasn't been there), you have to hunt low to avoid the deer seeing you from his bed or seeing you up in the tree from a distance. The good part is open areas tend to have predictable winds.I still like to hang my stand 15 to 20 feet high if possible in these open areas. However in a lot of situations I will have my stand only a few feet from the ground to elevate me just high enough to see or shoot over thick low cover such as cattails or brush.

Where
Choosing exactly where to hang your stand can be the most challenging part of your hunt. I like to pick my hunting ambushes in February and March when you can see real well in the woods, the deer sign is still noticeable, and the deer have plenty of time to forget about you walking through there living room and cutting shooting lanes. I usually try to keep my stand position as close to a bedding area as possible without spooking the buck. If you consider the law of averages, this is where you will see the most daylight deer activity, especially with mature animals. When scouting in the first few months of the year, make sure to look closely at the tracks and trails that tell you exactly how the animals enter and exit there bedding area. Hunting in, or adjacent to bedding areas means making sure your equipment is completely silent. There is nothing worse than waiting for the perfect time and the perfect wind direction, only to have one of your pieces of equipment make a loud clank as you go to hang your stand. Every piece of equipment needs to be silent.

Approach
Your approach to your stand should be well thought out. I have plenty of stands which take me a half mile walk out of the way to circle in from a direction that is less likely to spook game. I try hard to avoid crossing the trails that I feel the buck I am hunting is using. I also avoid letting my scent blow across these same trails, and for sure not into the bedding area. Just like a blood hound can pick up a 3 day old trail, a deer's nose can smell where you have been, and can even pick up where your scent has drifted to. I have watched plenty of deer react to human scent trails, even a few that were a couple days old. Every mature buck reacts different, but they all notice it and consider it a threat.

A lot of hunters mistake this reaction as some sort of sixth sense. They falsely believe a deer can "feel" you staring at them, or thinking about killing it. In all the cases I have had deer sense me, it could always be explained by where I walked earlier or a fickle wind.

Some of my favorite stand sites have been along rivers or or streams where you can access a tree stand site without leaving a scent trail by walking in the stream, or using a canoe. These spots can be hunted a little more often than your other sites because deer can pass by without smelling your presence has been there.

Most hunters know we have to be quiet and still in our stands. However, I feel a majority of hunters make too much noise traveling to there stand positions and tip off the deer before the hunt has even started. There have been several mornings where I sat on stand waiting for daylight to break into legal hunting time, and sat back listening to other hunters walk through the woods to their spots and set up. I could take you right to the tree they were set up in usually. If I can hear them, you know a deer certainly can.

In dry leaves, crunchy snow, slushy swamp muck, or other noisy conditions, I sneak very quietly to my intended tree, carefully placing each step. I avoid stepping on branches or other noisy objects. I look for exposed rocks or logs to quietly place my next step. When noise is inevitable, I slow my approach way down and try to sound more like an animal with pauses in between steps. There is no sound more identifiable than the steady walking of a person in the woods. If you break up that rhythm a little, it will at least sound less human like. If I do inadvertently make a loud noise or break a branch when nearing my stand site, I will stop and remain quiet for a while. Big bucks are not much different than us in that regard. Think about it. If you're in your stand and you hear a branch break in the distance, you will try to figure out where the noise came from and concentrate on that area for any movement or more noise for awhile to determine whether or not something is coming in your direction. However, after a few minutes goes by, you start to concentrate less and less on that noise till it is forgotten and dismissed on something other than your quarry such as a squirrel.

Unnatural noises should be greatly avoided. Noises such as metal stands clanging, chains rattling, or hunters talking, will immediately alert deer that you are human and not a "squirrel". My experience has shown that most deer that hear or see your approach either sneak out before you're in position, or remain motionless until after dark. If they do get up, they will generally head the other way, and likely will not return to bed there again tomorrow. I try to get to my predetermined stand site early enough so that if a deer does hear something, there is a good chance he will forget about it before it's time for him to get out of his bed, or in the case of a morning post, early enough so he is not in the area yet.

Diving In
I already touched on hunting predetermined locations found in February and March, however I would also like to mention the effectiveness of just grabbing a stand throwing it on your back and slipping around transition areas, where open cover meets thick bedding cover and just setting up where ever you find sign that is "hot" right now. Another tactic, is to just sit back and watch these areas from a safe distance and see exactly where the buck comes out, then the next day return with your stand and set up where you seen him.

Equipment
I like to have enough stand locations that I never hunt the same stand more than just a few times a season. This being the case, I have two portable Lone Wolf treestand set ups that I have sound proofed. One is my Hand climber, the other a hang on stand and 4 climbing sticks. I pack my stand in and out every time I hunt. This takes a little practice on getting quiet set ups down, but is well worth the effort, and the cost savings on the 50 stands I would need to hang in order to leave stands out in each of these locations.

Summary
These are just some highlights on some main considerations with treestand hunting. If you'd like more information on any of this, please visit our hunting forum or contact us.

If You Want it Done Right...: by Dan Infalt

2006-06-17T14:50:00.000-07:00

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?

Typhoon Tommy: by Dan Infalt

2006-06-11T14:51:00.000-07:00

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.

Big 8: by Dan Infalt

2006-05-18T14:52:00.000-07:00

It was a hot, Saturday evening in mid-July. All of my buddies were getting ready to go out. They asked me to go with them for a fun night of drinking and card playing. "Go with them?" I thought. "What a silly question!" This late in the summer and I still did not have a solid lead on a shooter buck. Partying would have to wait.

As the sun set on the summer sky, I sat with my back to a tree, glassing a river bottom for whitetails. Just before darkness, I noticed two deer emerge from the thick bedding cover. One showed himself right away. He was a 2 year old 8 pointer with a 12 inch wide rack. The other deer, however, had my full attention. I could tell by the difference in body size he was an older buck. It seemed like forever, but he finally lifted his head and showed off his great rack. He too, was an 8 point, but this 8 point was sporting 13 inch tines. I still have the image of that huge buck lifting his head burned into my memory.

I kept a distant watch, but I only saw him one more time just a few days before the opener in the same spot...right under a big willow tree with a nice natural platform to stand on.

I had dreams about sitting in that tree with "Big 8", as I had begun to call him, walking underneath me and the arrow flying true.

I hunted that stand opening day in the evening. I had stayed away until now, never once letting temptation make me wander over and look at the setup. That would have surely scented the area and relocated the buck before the season even began.

I slipped into the tree and quietly clipped a couple small branches. Then I just waited. About an hour before dark the 2 year old 8 pointer emerged and I prepared myself for Big 8 who would surley follow. Big 8 didn't show. I did not want to overhunt that stand and ruin it. I had seen the Big 8's tracks coming out of other bedding areas and some big rubs had showed on the other side of this bedding area, telling me that he might be staging on the other side for now. I certainly had plenty of options to keep my hunting spots from getting burned.

I hunted every day. I went out before work. I went out after work. Pretty soon the rut had arrived, and I had gone over a month without seeing Big 8.

This is when most hunters whack the little 8 point that keeps coming out under the same tree. Most hunters faced with a 1/2 empty glass either give into temptation, or they just give up. My glass was not half empty though... I keep mine half-full. Every time you choose a stand or ambush is like playing your next chess move. Once you have sat in most of the spots in the woods, you can narrow your selection.

One afternoon a heavy rain began to fall. I had narrowed it down through tracks and stand sitting that Big 8 had to be bedding in the thicket behind the willow. This rain would allow me to get in close, undetected and not leave any scent! Don't you just love windy thunderstorms?

I decided to try the backside of the thicket where I had seen the rubs. I sat in that rain, wind, and thunder until last light. By the time I got home, I was feeling ill. I started developing a cold. My wife asked me if I was insane when the alarm went off at 3am and between coughs I got ready to go back out in the storm.

The wind had grown to gusts of more than 40 mile per hour and the rain continued to pour down, but my glass was half-full! It had stopped thundering, and I was going to be able to sit the willow tree without leaving scent. Indeed, life was good! Halfway to my hunting destination I had to make a quick stop at the 24 hour gas station as my "cold" turned into a full fledged flu. I walked quickly past the attendant and straight into the restroom.

I made it to my tree but was completely exhausted. As I stood in the tree waiting for light, getting hammered by horizontal rain, I did not dream of Big 8, or fantasize about him walking under the stand. My only thought was getting home and calling in sick for work. I'm never too sick to hunt.

It finally started to crack daylight but the storm pounded on. I was having a hard time watching for Big 8 because it meant staring into the wind and rain. Finally, I glimpsed up and saw him walking by. The wind and rain made it impossible to hear him coming and by the time I noticed him he was passing by at 10 yards. The bow was raised, drawn, and fired just before he entered his secure bedding area. Big 8 bolted into cover.

I always keep my glass half-full when hunting slob bucks.

I went home and laid down for about an hour before returning to search for my obsessive addiction. I was worried because there would be no blood to trail, and I was unsure of where he was hit. But Big 8 lay only 50 yards into the cover from the willow tree. He dressed out at 207 pounds. Time to find another sickness.

Third Time's a Charm

2006-04-10T14:53:00.000-07:00

It was Michigan's third turkey season of 2005, a late, guaranteed tag season spanning the month of May and giving hunters plenty of time in the woods. My buddy, Dan DesRosiers, a.k.a. Dome, and I had planned on rotating cameraman/hunter until we both filled up, but since I shot my tom with my bow on the 2nd evening out, Dome had basically the entire month to get his bird with me as his cameraman. The first three weeks of May produced numerous close calls on good toms, but nothing worked out with the archery equipment. Dome's wife was questioning this turkey hotspot of ours, and he was feeling the pressure of bringing home the other white meat. It was time to switch to the shotgun.

On the final weekend in May, I made plans to have a bonfire party at my house, knowing that with the wives all together to visit, us guys could slip out for another hunt.

I greeted Dome in my camo, halfway up my long driveway as he and Kristi pulled in. There were two big toms in my field out back and I didn't want them to spook.

"Get dressed, we're going after a bird." I explained. Dan gave a wink, and didn't hesitate.

So with the hens, I mean wives, cackling in the house, Dome and I were off to the woods. Our strategy was to cut south, run to the back of my property to the west, and cut the toms off as they headed to roost where they usually did.

Dome had this first tom dead to rights...

A half-hour later, the toms were playing to the script perfectly. I stood about 10 feet behind Dome as he was drawing a bead on the lead tom. They were about 40 yards out, easy range for my turkey cannon, I thought. Suddenly, the battery light starts flashing on my camera! So when Dan whispered. "You on em?" I quickly responded with "Yeah, kill it!"

WHU-BOOOOOOMMMM!!!

The tom took flight. Dome took to his feet and flailed another shot. But it was no use. The bird got away.

"What happened??" Dome asked puzzled.

"You tell me!!" I kind of chuckled.

We assessed the situation and determined Dome had sent the majority of his load into the blue spruce branch that had been blocking his barrel!

...but a spruce branch in front of the barrel got in the way.

"Man, that sucks" Dome pouted. "That was my best chance and now season's about over. Looks like try again next year."

"Nah, keep the faith." I reassured him. We'll hit it in the morning hard and get onto more birds. They haven't been spooked in our other spots.

So we relived those events and many others in front of the bonfire that night. At 2:30am we decided we might want to get some sleep since we were going hunting at 4!!

We were both zombies in the morning, and Dome was a little irritated that I wouldn't let him carry his shiny tin coffee mug across the open field to our morning setup. I assured him we'd both be plenty awake soon as the toms start gobbling.

And boy did they. As dawn was cracking, we had 5 toms gobbling steady within about 100 yards of us. We hunt a highly pressured area of southern Michigan so there would be no calling this morning. I was pretty sure where they would go off the roost, and that's what we were banking on.

One hour later we had a huge tom out in front of us strutting at 80 yards. He had not come by in range, and Dome's trigger finger was itching. I zoomed in good and was getting great footage, when suddenly Dome whispers, "Here they come!"

Dome took aim on his second tom...

I looked left and saw 5 jakes followed by 2 strutting toms coming out to greet the big boy already out there. I swung the camera over to the trailing tom, gave Dome the fire-when-ready queu, and waited for the cannon to sound.

WHU-BOOOOMMMM!!!

Away the birds all flew! Dome jumped to his feet and emptied his last 2 in a fleeting attempt to successfully end his season. No luck. Once again, the toms escaped. Turkeys 2, Dome zero.

...but the turkeys went up 2-0 as the shot was too far.

"Man, that's for sure going to be my last good chance!" Dome whimpered. Dome had excitedly fired when they were still out at about 65 yards... good for them, bad for us.

"Relax, think of the stories we get to tell!" I replied. "There are birds all over out here. Let's go find another one!" I reassured a doubting Dome.

Later that morning after checking some other fields for toms, we planned one final check of a known turkey hangout. Sure enough, there were 2 big toms out there about 400 yards away, on a bee-line for the corner of a woodlot I knew well.

"I think I know where they're heading." I explained to Dome. "We're going to have to run, but I think we can cut them off!" Could this be Dome's third solid chance in less than a day?

Our third chance would require a long run to get ahead of the birds.

With heavy legs, and heaving chests, we made it into position, eagerly anticipating the toms to be coming up over the hill at any moment.

Twenty minutes later, no birds. Doubt was creeping in. Suddenly a double-gobble confirmed they were still out there, but it appeared they shifted their line of travel. We would need to crawl up the fenceline and get closer. Luckily we had a good breeze to hide our noise and the late May foliage was easy to hide in.

Forty yards up the fenceline, we peeked out and saw them about 80 yards away. Turkeys seem to know when you have a shotgun and when you have a bow... they're always "just out of range!"

As we sat there strategizing about what to do next, a huge lone tom made an appearance from the complete opposite direction. He had no doubt heard those toms gobbling and was coming in for a closer look.

As a wise old tom will do, the bird got to within about 100 yards from the other two toms, staying just over the hill from them. "They even hang up on each other!" I thought.

The big tom wasn't coming any closer. In fact, he went over to the shadowed part of the fenceline and laid down! Had we stayed put in our original spot, Dome would already be cutting his tag!

Now the plan was for Dome to sneak back down the fenceline into range, while I stayed put with the camera on it. My heart was in my throat over the next several minutes as I eagerly anticipated another gunshot ringing out.

The big tom bedded down. One final stalk was in order.

Ten minutes passed, and finally the bird rose to its feet again and began feeding away from us. I could no longer see Dome and was wondering what the heck was happening!

WHU-BOOOMMMMM!!!!!!

The sudden blast about gave me a heart attack, but it was music to my ears. The big tom was flopping.

Dome's hard-earned, third chance Michigan gobbler

Dome had snuck to one spot and wasn't confident it was close enough, so to be sure, he snuck closer. The shot ended up being 40 yards. Dome's turkey weighed 20 pounds and had a thick, 10 inch beard with 1 inch spurs. Dome had made good on his third chance with a hard-earned Michigan gobbler.

The Big Bad Piggy: by Dan Infalt

2006-04-10T14:52:00.000-07:00

I was working at the Wisconsin deer show in madison with my good friend Andrae D'Acquisto selling his Lone Wolf Treestands. The show had gotten a little slow towards the end of the day. There was a little old man in a booth across from me selling wild boar hunts. This old dude was having a bad weekend selling and thought he should get one more deal done before packing up, so he starts staring at me until I made eye contact. Then he shouts across the isle, "Boy, you looking for a REAL adventure? ...An adventure with medieval beasts that can snap your legs with one mighty bite!!!???"

"Listen old man," I shouted back. "I have a pet potbellied pig. He bit me once...left a pretty good bruise, but it was far from tearing my leg off!"

You damn kids think you know everything!" he yelled as he got up out of his chair and hobbled over with his cane. "These ain't no pet potbellies boy!! These is pure 100% Russian hell! These guys would eat a wimp like you and laugh while doing it!"

"If they came after me, one swift kick to the head would teach them who's boss!" I responded. "Besides, if I came with you I would spend the whole day saving YOU!"

After an hour of arguing, I finally caved. The old man was packing a bunch of my money in his pocket as a down payment. I wasn't quite sure if I had just booked a hunt, or got tricked into proving my manhood.

Finally the time had arrived to go chase down a piggy. As I got out of the truck I was greeted by the old guy, Jiim, who shouted, "I thought for sure your chicken-butt wouldn't show!"

I just smiled and said, "Let's see these big bad piggies."

Jim goes over to the back of his pickup truck and pulls out a big 'ol 44 magnum revolver and straps it around his waist. Then he opens the case to a large caliber, military style rifle and he quickly snaps in a 30 round clip. "Where is your rifle boy?" Jim shouts.

"Rifle?" I said. "I brought my bow!!"

"You stupid punk..." Jim growls. "Yur gonna get yourself killed and eaten!"

We had a hard time finding a boar to go after once we were in the 400 acre enclosure. They were hiding pretty good, and it didn't help that I constantly had to wait for the old man to catch up. Finally I spotted a group of piggies and slipped close while Jim waited to catch his breath by a near tree. I got to about 25 yards when one of the oinkers spotted me and they started getting nervous. I quickly drew my bow and sent an arrow into one of the boars. They all ran off after the shot.

"I thought you said these guys would attack me?" I said, chuckling at Jim. "They all just ran. There goes your tip!" I laughed.

We began tracking the boar, and I soon found him lying on a hillside. I could see his chest still moving and knew he would need a follow up shot. I told Jim to stay back while I stalked up close to finish the job. I put all my concentration on the downed boar, carefully placing every footstep. Suddenly, my concentration is broken as Jim shouts "Look out!"

I look to my right and there is a huge boar coming right at me running full tilt. I spun around and started running towards Jim who shouted "run behind the tree". With the big pig right on my heels I ran around the tree next to the old man, right into a large fallen limb lying on the other side of the tree. I spun around to face my attacker. Jim was standing there like a cowboy in a gun fight, staring down the porker. His hand flew down and grabbed his hand cannon out of its holster like Clint Eastwood. As the piggy rounded the corner the cannon sounded. The boar locked up and stopped cold as his head snapped backwards. I saw hair fly off of the pigs head from a spot right between his eyes, as if it were in slow motion! The boar just stood there momentarily as a large bump began to rise out of the red hairless spot on his forehead. The silence was broken as a load audible "click" meant another round had just been chambered. The old boar must have known that sound... he shook himself off, turned around and hurried off. I looked at Jim, and for the first time since I met him he was smiling.

"I can't believe that 44 Mag. didn't kill that beast!!!" I exclaimed.

Jim holstered his gun and said, "WAX BULLETS BOY! Them piggies are expensive!!!"

When we got to my boar, it was already dead. The hunt was over. Jim had earned his tip.

These days, Jim is longer with us. He is probably in piggy heaven right now chasing boars all over the hills with his wax bullets.

The Legend of Preacher's Point: by Dan Infalt

2006-04-07T14:56:00.000-07:00

A deep voice over the phone asked if I had placed an ad in the Florida newspaper looking for bow hunting clients for my guiding service. I said, "Yes Sir, I placed that ad."

The voice then asked every conceivable question about hunting Wisconsin's whitetails. At the end of the conversation he asked the usual question, "How much is this going to cost me?" I told him my fee was $400 for a 3 day weekend. The man then explained that he was a Preacher of a small congregation and that he could not afford much and asked if I could give one of God's friends a break?

There was a short silence, while I quickly thought it over. Hmmm, I thought, heck, this was my chance to get right with God! I get this preacher a good buck for the wall and that's my ticket to heaven. Sure, how about I knock $100 off the price?

"Sounds good Son," the voice said. "Is your 1st week available?"

I said, "Well that's my best week, and I am giving you a $100 break."

He said, "God would admire your generosity."

I swallowed hard and said, "Ok, I guess."

The Preacher said, "Thank you Son." Once again he hinted at getting in good with God. No, he didn't say it, but I could hear it in his voice. He then asked if he could stay with me for a week rather than the 3 days I had offered. He said he was only allowed 1 vacation a year, and he wanted to make sure he was successful bringing home meat and a trophy for his family. He said he would also have a feast for the poor families in his community. "Dan, you do want to help the poor families, don't you?"

"Yea, I guess so," I said.

"Good!" preacher replied. "Pick me up at the Milwaukee airport September 17th! Bye!"

He hung up before I could tell him pick-ups were extra. Oh well, this would surely make up for all the bad things I had done and all the church I had missed to sneak out hunting. Yep, I was going straight to heaven for this one!

Months later, a fat, old guy in overalls took me by surprise at the airport. He said, "You must be Dan! I'm G.W., the preacher."

On the drive back to Rome, Wisconsin, he started telling me all of his hunting stories. He talked of big mulies in the mountains, black bears in Ontario , and then he told of his last hunt for a Canadian Grizzly. I started to wonder if he went on that hunt for $300? He said, he had always been successful on every hunt he had been on. He said, the year prior to the hunt with me he took the biggest grizzly bear ever shot in that province. The outfitter was so impressed, he named the point where the bear was taken "Preachers point".

"Dan, My goal here this week is to make a 'Preachers point' right here in Wisconsin!"

I secretly wondered how an overweight preacher could be such a great hunter. I figured it must be his connection with God.

In the middle of the conversation the preacher just slumped over and fell against the door of the truck. I quickly pulled to the side of the expressway, thinking, "Oh my God, I killed the Preacher!!!! I am going to hell for sure!!!"

I ran around to the passenger side and opened the door to check his vitals. He had a pulse. I could see his chest rising and knew he was breathing. I used my thumbs to lift his eyelids up and check to see if his eyes were dilated.

He suddenly jumped up and shouted, "HEY! What the heck are you doing? Can't a guy even get a little rest with out being attacked by a crazy hunting guide?"

I apologized and said he would have been thankful if he were really dying. I wondered if maybe God could forgive that one. Heck, he must have a little bit of a sense of humor!

We finally got home and walked into the house as my wife was swearing at her pet potbellied pig that had wandered into the house. The words she used were unrepeatable, I said, "Honey!!! I'm home with the PREACHER!" (The preacher who was glaring at me over his glasses) I apologized, and explained that the pig must of really gotten her mad.

The preacher sat down at the kitchen table where we served him a roast coon dinner. During the middle of his meal he slumped over the table and started to make gagging noises. My wife said, "Quick, do something he must be choking!!!"

At first I didn't know what to do. I told my wife, "Last time I saved his life he yelled at me! And YOU cut the meat chunks too big!"

She said, "You can't just let him die!"

I ran around to the back of his chair and started the Heimlich maneuver. I could barely get my arms around him and had to get on my knees. I did 4 quick thrusts, nothing changed, he was now making loud gasping noises, I pulled him to the floor and did belly thrusts till he jumped back to life shouting, "What the HELL are you doing?? I was just sleeping!!"

"Oh my God, I made the preacher say Hell! My soul is doomed!!" I thought.

"Preacher, we thought you were choking on the coon!"

The WHAT???" He yelled. "You're feeding me COON????"

After he realized he would need me to guide him to his next trophy, and at the least, for a ride back to the airport, he calmed down and told me he has narcolepsy, a sleeping disorder characterized by brief, uncontrollable bouts of deep sleep! I apologized for trying to save his life again, and then we all went to bed.

The next morning I had a heck of a time waking up the old man, but finally he rose. He said he needed his rest and we would hunt in the evening. He finally got back up around 2PM giving us just enough time to get out to one of my favorite spots.

I took him to a spot where a point of timber coming off of a swamp island into the cattails made a perfect travel corridor. I told the preacher, "Every year the first guy to hunt this point gets a crack at a good buck. Maybe, just maybe, this can be the next Preacher's Point!!" I was thinking I wasn't even going to have to wait in line at the pearly gates. The Angels will certainly let the preacher's guide come right in after seeing this huge buck he shot from this spot!

I set up his stand and made sure he was belted in good in case he fell asleep. Then I quietly slipped out of the marsh.

When I got back, the preacher had a big smile on his face and said, "That buck came in just like you said! But I tried moving while he was looking at me and he bolted back into the swamp. I am looking forward to trying another one of these great spots tomorrow evening!" I started to wonder if my preacher was even capable of killing a deer.

The next few sits were uneventful and didn't produce any shooters. So I went out scouting in the morning while the preacher slept in. I found some really good deer sign coming out of a bedding area. Big rubs and scrapes showed the area definitely held a shooter. I took the preacher out there and explained the situation. He was excited and said if he got another chance he would make good on it. I helped him set up a stand quietly, then I quietly snuck back out.

Just before dark I slipped back in and sat down on a hillside a couple hundred yards from the preacher and looked with my binoculars to see if he had gotten anything. As I was looking I saw movement in the bedding area. A very large buck was heading right towards the Preacher.

Soon the buck was right under the preacher and was heading past. I waited for the shot, thinking any second now. But the shot never came. The buck just walked right by and headed up the hill towards me. I was not expecting the buck to come my way. He was supposed to get shot. Once he got downwind of my hiding spot he got alert and bolted back down the same trail he came out on, taking him right past the preacher as he ran back into the bedding area. I walked down to the preacher knowing the evening's chance was blown.

The preacher looked down and said "You just kicked a big buck past me!"

I said, "You didn't see him walk past you towards me?"

He said no, and confessed he may have been sleeping.

We only had one day left to make a Preacher's Point and give me a guaranteed spot in heaven. Of course, the old man wouldn't get up in the morning, so that left just evening hunts.

I started to take him to a remote woodlot way back in the marsh hoping for one last chance. About halfway back, the preacher stops walking and gets a funny look on his face. I new that look. I had seen it before. This was not a heart attack. Nope, the old man wasn't choking. I looked at him and said you gotta poop? He just nodded in agreement and asked, "Got any toilet paper?"

I explained that I did not carry it with me, but that I used it for tracking and had a roll in the truck. I told him to clench his butt cheeks as tight as he could and I would make a run for the truck. I ran as fast as I could and made it back in record time. He was still standing in the same position, but had a little more desperation in his face and a little more brown in his eyes. I handed him the paper and he hobbled off into the trees.

Suddenly the woods erupted with the sound of the preacher relieving himself, a sound burnt unpleasantly into my memory ever since. After quite some time, the preacher emerged and announced his hunt was over.

I put my hand on the preacher's shoulder and searched my sole for a way to describe the ordeal in an understanding way. Finally, I said, "I proclaim this spot from this moment on, "PREACHER'S POINT!"