Day 4 - The Art of Standing

Dawn over the Sand Flat.  The spot of light in the distance is "home".  The fog is along Armstrong River.  I wish I had a better camera...this picture doesn't do justice to the real view.

Another beautiful day to be in the woods.  Today actually almost felt like hunting weather - temps climbed into the 50s but took a long time to get there and quickly fell with the falling sun.  So thankful to have these days.  Oh sure, ten more hours without seeing any deer, but who's counting?

I spent the entire day back at the Slaughterhouse, site of yesterday's lucky/unlucky deer kill.  The Slaughterhouse has been a favorite of mine for a long, long time; I'm pretty sure I've killed more deer at this spot than any other (thus the name).  It's located quite a ways back in the woods alongside a 40-60 yard-wide meadow that follows the path of Spring Crick.  The area is the base of a draw that connects to a swamp to the east (a draw is a long, low strip that runs between two ridges).  This draw is filled with ash trees and very little brush, making it an easy travel corridor for deer.  Not only do the deer travel this draw, they filter into the Slaughterhouse area from all directions to cross the meadow which is a bit more narrow here than most places.  An added bonus (to the deer) is a stand of evergreens on the meadow's edge that provides good cover and shelter.

I call this "Whitetails in the Mist."  Except there were no whitetails.  And it ain't mist.   This morning's foggy view in front of the Slaughterhouse stand.

Our current stand at the Slaughterhouse is pictured below.  It's back from the meadow about 100 yards, meaning I can't see the meadow at all but I can cover multiple runways to catch deer approaching from all directions.  The original stand at this spot was on the edge of the meadow, nestled nicely between a group of three huge popple trees.  I was just beginning to really fall in love with the spot when I wandered in to scout the area and had my heart broken - all three popples had been cut down.  By beaver.  They didn't even use the trees or branches, just cut them down to spite me.  Beavers are pure evil.  For a few years I sat on a fallen tree on the edge of the meadow and had a little success.  Then I just stopped hunting it; wasn't seeing much sign and even fewer deer.  But the last few years have looked better so last year we built a new stand.

I was thinking about stands quite a bit today, as I stood in a stand, seeing nothing.  The stand you see is the stand you get when you hunt with us...which you will probably never do.  We are open-air hunters; no boxes for this hunting party!  A platform built from scrap lumber around the farm, a ladder built from ash taken at the spot.  Build the platform in the garage, haul it to the woods and attach it to the ladder, nail the whole thing to a couple of trees.  My dad prefers a seat, I do not; I fall asleep if I sit too long.  The railings have always been a matter of contention between members of the hunting party over the years - my dad and I and my uncles are rather tall so we make the railings high enough for us, but a little too high for some of the shorter hunters in the family.  My grandpa used to complain about "sunburning his armpits" when he hunted in certain stands that he had not built.

With stands come stories, especially if a stand is placed in a spot that lives up to its expectations for hunting success.  Two Slaughterhouse stories come to mind:

1)  7:00 a.m. on a foggy, drizzly morning.  Climbed into my original popple stand (pre-beaver) only to remember I'd forgotten to put scent out around the stand.  Climbed down, scented, and climbed back in.  I'd no more than stood on the platform when two deer came streaking at me from the east.  And I do mean streaking - I've never seen deer run like that before or since, like two missiles with legs.  They screamed right past the base of my trees, right on the spot I'd been standing not a minute earlier.  I am convinced I'd be dead had I not climbed up when I did; those deer would have skewered me.  As they crossed the meadow I heard a third deer crashing towards me - the buck in "chase mode."  He wasn't on the same line as the first two so he crossed the meadow farther away from me but on a pretty fast pace; with the poor light and precip I had no good shot.  All three deer entered the woods on the other side of the meadow where the buck continued to chase the other two back and forth in front of me for about five minutes.  Finally one of the two ran straight away with the buck on its tail while the other came back to the meadow and lay down.  It laid there for over a half hour; when it stood up, I shot it.  Never did see the other two again.  The deer I shot was a yearling buck, so I think the other was a yearling doe that the larger buck was interested in.

Our stand at the Slaughterhouse.

 2)  A few years later I was sitting on my fallen tree (post-beaver) and had a doe and fawn come out of the woods on the opposite side of the meadow.  As they got to the edge of the stream I shot the doe which dropped immediately.  Feeling pretty good about my clean shot I walked up to where I shot her and found tracks, blood, and no deer.  I was flabbergasted until I noticed an ear floating down the stream; she had fallen into Spring Crick and was now headed towards Red Lake.  So off I went, running alongside my floating dead deer, desperately trying to find a spot to reach her.  The stream isn't wide in most places but before I could get to her she floated out into a large pool above the beaver (pure evil!) dam.  I had to go find a long enough, light enough, dead enough tree to reach her with so I could guide her to a shoreline.  When I finally got her out of the water I realized the fawn had been standing in the meadow watching this whole debacle.  I'm pretty sure I saw it shake its head and roll its eyes before it ran away.

Had so much more I wanted to write about tonight - the importance of naming a stand, the cycles of success and failure at stands, and maybe a few more stand stories.  But somehow 10:30 gets here way too fast every night....and 5:00 a.m. is going to get here even faster.  I'll be back tomorrow evening, hopefully with a story from the present rather than the past.

The hunting has been disappointing, but sunsets on the farm rarely disappoint.  I still wish I had a better camera.