Buck Bed. Blind Stalk
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Buck Bed. Blind Stalk
11/30/13
The cold predawn air sent an uninviting chill as I followed an old logging road deep into unfamiliar country. Being unsure of the trail that lay ahead of me, I used a dim light to pierce the light fog that hung as a cloak over the damp forest floor. The sun was gaining victory over my descent into the great unknown as the tree line on the Eastern horizon became backlit by its first glow of the day. I realized I would not reach my intended destination by the break of day. I stood for a moment, watching my warm exhales fade towards the sky. I contemplated the lay of the land that I had dissected so many times prior to my journey. I made a reluctant decision to change my course from SW to SE and head for a small knoll that looked to hold some large oaks only a couple hundred yards away. I figured it was worth a chance, but deep down I knew that any buck worth his hide would be found deeper into the swamp by daybreak. Although it wasn't my desired location, I enjoyed the beautiful sunrise as it's golden rays split the mighty oak limbs and the Spanish Moss slow danced as the still air began to gently push and pull before settling into its desired flow.
A few young deer graced me with their presence, topping off what was already a stellar start to the day. It wasn't long after 7am that my feet became restless, for the swamp was begging for my intrusion and I humbly obliged. I gathered myself, got my bearings and then headed to the area I have been anticipating for months. Several swamps nearly converged at one point, which looked to create land bridges connecting lots of habitat and I imagined endless nooks and crannies for a stubborn old whitetail to haunt. This should be the perfect stage for a game of chess with a wary buck. When I neared my area of interest, tracks and rubs confirmed that I had arrived at the threshold of a bucks home. The wind was perfect. I moved ever slower and never without purpose, straight into the very jaws of the swamp...
I found a few small peninsulas and islands where a buck took a lay and rubbed some small trees within the cypress bottom. However I didn't feel as though I had found his bedroom, so I pressed on. Less than an hour into my search I found what I was looking for, a lone rub at the waters edge that seemed to be reworked several times. The majority of its scarring was facing a tight trail winding back into the tangled bog. I studied the trail and beyond where it wanted to lead me. As my eyes crawled towards the canopy I noticed large pine trees hidden within the cypress. This is it! My eyes widened as a spike of adrenaline raised the hair on my neck. Knowing you are within a buck's wheelhouse suddenly brings a certain 'over awareness' to a deer hunter. All at once every flicker of movement was magnified and each sound around me was amplified, each becoming ever important. The below freezing temperatures that morning prompted me to lace up my calf-high insulated boots in place of my usual 18" rubber ones, a choice I would soon regret. With high hopes and sheer determination I took up the trail into the bottom. The water was clear and still, resembling a mirror laid beneath the towering cypress trees. Upon further inspection, the trail I was following was darker in color. Perhaps my adversary has stirred the mud and turned the trail to a rusty brown. It took what seemed an eternity to cut the short distance between myself and the pine island. I was now more than 3/4 of the way to the buck's lair, I could see much of the dry ground ahead and had yet to spot a deer or any further indication of this area being used by one. The water has now reached its highest point. My boots sunk deep into the ancient peat soil. For a moment, there came a sudden realization of the perceived futility of what it was that I was attempting to do. I began tugging on my legs to break the grip of the swamp. The only branch within arms reach was lifeless, suspended in the air only by the strength of some small vines. A few small vines which my right arm, seemingly by its own volition, had become entangled with. So there I am with a heavy slug gun in my left hand, a right arm elbow deep into a knot of vines and both feet held snug in the muck. At that moment I felt vastly inadequate at accomplishing the task at hand. I paused for a moment to analyze the situation and question what little sanity I thought I possessed. I was a split second from ripping my arms out of the vines and violently twisting my feet out of the holes they were in and marching right back out of that mudhole. It seemed as though this buck had laid every obstacle between He and I, but that has never stopped me in the past. I was far too stubborn to allow myself to give up. A quick calmness came over me, I took a deep breath and contemplated my options. That's when the game changed. A flicker about 50 yards distant and close to the ground caught my attention. As my eyes quickly focused in, I made out the rear end of a bedded deer sticking out from behind a large tree. I quietly, yet feverishly worked to free myself from the grasp of the mud and tangles. I pushed my feet forward slowly under the water until I felt the ground become firm again. I took a knee in the frigid water and got the deer in the scope. So there I was, balls deep in freezing water with no clear shot at an unconfirmed buck. Now what? I knew he would outlast me in a standoff, so I decided to give him two soft contact grunts with my mouth. This brought him straight to his feet and on a string. I watched him get closer and closer, until the scope was full of his chest. The first time he showed me his shoulder, I squeezed the trigger with confidence. The buck lost his feet immediately and expired within seconds. I stood in disbelief of what just occurred. I racked another round through the 870 and stuck the empty in my pocket as a souvenir. I walked over to the buck, knelt down and placed my hand on his side. I admired him for his beauty and thanked him for the sustenance he would provide as well as the lessons he had taught me. Patience and persistence. A buck wise to hunting pressure almost never comes easy and he was no exception.
This is where the buck was laying. No defined bed, but right on the 'elbow' of the strip of high ground:
This is where he was laid to rest. He was bedded just out of frame to top left:
Here he is next to the rub that gave him up:
[ Post made via iPad ]
The cold predawn air sent an uninviting chill as I followed an old logging road deep into unfamiliar country. Being unsure of the trail that lay ahead of me, I used a dim light to pierce the light fog that hung as a cloak over the damp forest floor. The sun was gaining victory over my descent into the great unknown as the tree line on the Eastern horizon became backlit by its first glow of the day. I realized I would not reach my intended destination by the break of day. I stood for a moment, watching my warm exhales fade towards the sky. I contemplated the lay of the land that I had dissected so many times prior to my journey. I made a reluctant decision to change my course from SW to SE and head for a small knoll that looked to hold some large oaks only a couple hundred yards away. I figured it was worth a chance, but deep down I knew that any buck worth his hide would be found deeper into the swamp by daybreak. Although it wasn't my desired location, I enjoyed the beautiful sunrise as it's golden rays split the mighty oak limbs and the Spanish Moss slow danced as the still air began to gently push and pull before settling into its desired flow.
A few young deer graced me with their presence, topping off what was already a stellar start to the day. It wasn't long after 7am that my feet became restless, for the swamp was begging for my intrusion and I humbly obliged. I gathered myself, got my bearings and then headed to the area I have been anticipating for months. Several swamps nearly converged at one point, which looked to create land bridges connecting lots of habitat and I imagined endless nooks and crannies for a stubborn old whitetail to haunt. This should be the perfect stage for a game of chess with a wary buck. When I neared my area of interest, tracks and rubs confirmed that I had arrived at the threshold of a bucks home. The wind was perfect. I moved ever slower and never without purpose, straight into the very jaws of the swamp...
I found a few small peninsulas and islands where a buck took a lay and rubbed some small trees within the cypress bottom. However I didn't feel as though I had found his bedroom, so I pressed on. Less than an hour into my search I found what I was looking for, a lone rub at the waters edge that seemed to be reworked several times. The majority of its scarring was facing a tight trail winding back into the tangled bog. I studied the trail and beyond where it wanted to lead me. As my eyes crawled towards the canopy I noticed large pine trees hidden within the cypress. This is it! My eyes widened as a spike of adrenaline raised the hair on my neck. Knowing you are within a buck's wheelhouse suddenly brings a certain 'over awareness' to a deer hunter. All at once every flicker of movement was magnified and each sound around me was amplified, each becoming ever important. The below freezing temperatures that morning prompted me to lace up my calf-high insulated boots in place of my usual 18" rubber ones, a choice I would soon regret. With high hopes and sheer determination I took up the trail into the bottom. The water was clear and still, resembling a mirror laid beneath the towering cypress trees. Upon further inspection, the trail I was following was darker in color. Perhaps my adversary has stirred the mud and turned the trail to a rusty brown. It took what seemed an eternity to cut the short distance between myself and the pine island. I was now more than 3/4 of the way to the buck's lair, I could see much of the dry ground ahead and had yet to spot a deer or any further indication of this area being used by one. The water has now reached its highest point. My boots sunk deep into the ancient peat soil. For a moment, there came a sudden realization of the perceived futility of what it was that I was attempting to do. I began tugging on my legs to break the grip of the swamp. The only branch within arms reach was lifeless, suspended in the air only by the strength of some small vines. A few small vines which my right arm, seemingly by its own volition, had become entangled with. So there I am with a heavy slug gun in my left hand, a right arm elbow deep into a knot of vines and both feet held snug in the muck. At that moment I felt vastly inadequate at accomplishing the task at hand. I paused for a moment to analyze the situation and question what little sanity I thought I possessed. I was a split second from ripping my arms out of the vines and violently twisting my feet out of the holes they were in and marching right back out of that mudhole. It seemed as though this buck had laid every obstacle between He and I, but that has never stopped me in the past. I was far too stubborn to allow myself to give up. A quick calmness came over me, I took a deep breath and contemplated my options. That's when the game changed. A flicker about 50 yards distant and close to the ground caught my attention. As my eyes quickly focused in, I made out the rear end of a bedded deer sticking out from behind a large tree. I quietly, yet feverishly worked to free myself from the grasp of the mud and tangles. I pushed my feet forward slowly under the water until I felt the ground become firm again. I took a knee in the frigid water and got the deer in the scope. So there I was, balls deep in freezing water with no clear shot at an unconfirmed buck. Now what? I knew he would outlast me in a standoff, so I decided to give him two soft contact grunts with my mouth. This brought him straight to his feet and on a string. I watched him get closer and closer, until the scope was full of his chest. The first time he showed me his shoulder, I squeezed the trigger with confidence. The buck lost his feet immediately and expired within seconds. I stood in disbelief of what just occurred. I racked another round through the 870 and stuck the empty in my pocket as a souvenir. I walked over to the buck, knelt down and placed my hand on his side. I admired him for his beauty and thanked him for the sustenance he would provide as well as the lessons he had taught me. Patience and persistence. A buck wise to hunting pressure almost never comes easy and he was no exception.
This is where the buck was laying. No defined bed, but right on the 'elbow' of the strip of high ground:
This is where he was laid to rest. He was bedded just out of frame to top left:
Here he is next to the rub that gave him up:
[ Post made via iPad ]
No Shortcuts. No Excuses. No Regrets.
Everybody's selling dreams. I'm too cheap to buy one.
Everybody's selling dreams. I'm too cheap to buy one.
Rich M wrote:Typically, hunting FL has been like getting a root canal
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- headgear
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Re: Buck Bed. Blind Stalk
Cool pics and congrats on the buck!
- Stanley
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Re: Buck Bed. Blind Stalk
Great presentation and nice buck to boot.
You can fool some of the bucks, all of the time, and fool all of the bucks, some of the time, however you certainly can't fool all of the bucks, all of the time.
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Re: Buck Bed. Blind Stalk
Congrats & outstanding write up!!!!
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- backstraps
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Re: Buck Bed. Blind Stalk
Very Nice story, hunt and buck! Man it was like I was there with ya while reading! Good Job & Congrats!
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Re: Buck Bed. Blind Stalk
Cool story....great photos and a nice Buck! WTG PalmettoKid
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Re: Buck Bed. Blind Stalk
Very cool read. Great job
[ Post made via iPhone ]
[ Post made via iPhone ]
- BigHills BuckHunter
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Re: Buck Bed. Blind Stalk
It felt like I was reading an article from a hunting magazine. Great write up.
Congrats on a great buck!
Congrats on a great buck!
- hunter_mike
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Re: Buck Bed. Blind Stalk
I really enjoyed reading that. You did a great job writing that up.
My takeaway from it is if you want to kill a tough buck you have to think like a tough buck. Much easier said than done but you are definitely getting it done! Keep it up I am learning a lot from posts like yours thank you.
My takeaway from it is if you want to kill a tough buck you have to think like a tough buck. Much easier said than done but you are definitely getting it done! Keep it up I am learning a lot from posts like yours thank you.
“The master has failed more times than the beginner has even tried.”
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Re: Buck Bed. Blind Stalk
congrats! Great story. Man, you are having a heck of a season down there in Florida!
- Dewey
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Re: Buck Bed. Blind Stalk
Congrats!
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Re: Buck Bed. Blind Stalk
Great job and good read - Congrats!
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