At our camp, we’ve mostly treated the Kentucky Early Muzzleloader Season as a dry run for the Big Show in November. It is still warm. It gives a chance to enjoy ourselves at deer camp without any pressure. It helps us get the equipment figured out. To be truthful, taking a deer is the last thing on our minds– usually. This one pretty much stuck to that plan.
When I got down to camp on Friday, they were starting to apply the exterior siding to the house. That’s a big step forward. I expect major work completed by the next time I come down, but I included a pic to show y’all what it looks like.
Moose came down before dinner. We were able to meet Blacksmith at Bub’s for dinner. Angus showed up after we returned to camp. It was a shame not having SuperCore in attendance. He’s doing fine, but feels he’s not up to the rigors of camp anymore. We sorely miss him. Moose is now hunting with Supercore’s CVA smokepole and is loving it.
Age hits us all. Me? This is the first time in 40+ years I’m not going to be in a tree stand. I’m not calling it quits, but I wanted to give the legs a rest this year. I had blood clots back in September. I had to take a month mostly in the recliner until the blood thinners worked. I’m going to have to work to get my mojo back, and there just is not enough time before season. I can do the 8-foot ladder at Hollywood just fine. I just don’t trust myself on the 15-footers yet.
I started out Saturday AM out in Midway. The light came up; I put a cap in the LHR Redemption and waited. Just about sunrise, a doe came out into the field. The hurricane remnant we caught last week had really given a boost to what I planted. She came out into a quarter-acre of Hancock Seed Fall and Winter Mix and started nibbling. Soon, she was joined by a sturdy fawn and a daughter from last year who is still following. I recognized them from up at the house. They had spent most of the summer spending their evenings eating at the plots visible from the new porch.
I was just thinking about reaching for the rifle to take a practice shot. I was not going to shoot, mind you, but muzzleloader season is a good time to get the sights on a doe. My Hawken is especially good for this because it has a double trigger. I can pop the hair trigger without the hammer pulled to full cock, and all that happens is a “Click.” I’ve counted coup on dozens of deer in this way. I swear that lead doe picked up the vibe through telepathy or something. Up came her head, about 80 yards out. She stamped. She blew, and she was gone, taking her crew with her. That’s fine. That happens. What happened next was not. The three of them went back in the woods and started a snort fest. I had at least two hours of on-and-off snorting. They wanted to tell me in every way, from every angle that I stunk.
I could have gone in at that point. Nothing else showed again for the next three hours. I heard a total of 5 shots all morning, but one was a shot-string of 3. During Muzzleloader Season? It dawned on me later that the new expanded Yute Season was going on at the same time. When I got in, Moose and Angus were finishing up. Angus had spooked a doe from the stand at Blackberry. In their discussions, it was decided to move one of the new metal tower blinds over to Blackberry. That was all accomplished before lunch.
The afternoon hunt was a repeat, only amplified. I was back out at Midway before 1600 ET– a good three hours before sundown. Within a couple minute of sitting down, the trio of doe from earlier in the day were back out in the plot, only at the extreme far end. I got to watch them for the better part of an hour. They were favoring the west side of the field. It gets the most sun, and so it had the most growth. The lead doe took her time making it down to less than 80 yards from the blind before alerting. There was another snort-fest and a hysterical exodus, and they were still snorting at me from the wood at sunset.
Angus’ tale was of a pure unforced error. In the middle of his sit in the new tower blind, a small herd of doe had come out to feed in his plot. Sometimes in Muzzleloader Season, the urge just hits you. You’re there, the deer is there. You’ve got a firearm. Angus succumbed and decided he wanted to pop a doe. However, bringing the smokepole up to fire dislodged his pocketknife from his pocket. It fell to the metal floor; it clattered around, fell through the floor, hit the top rung of the ladder, and then hit every other rung on its way down to the ground. The doe were somewhere close to exiting the county before the last “Clang!” had stopped echoing across the surrounding hollers.
I do not usually shirk the second day of Muzzleloader Season. As Patriarch, I feel it sets a bad example. However, this year is somewhat exceptional. The doc put me on a blood thinner due to the clots, and I’m still on it. If you’ve ever been around old people and blood thinners, you’ll know they are forever complaining about drafts and chills and carp at you to shut the door and turn up the thermostat and . . .
. . . yeah, that’s me. To give you an idea, I was out at Midway Saturday afternoon in the kit that I usually keep for below-freezing weather. I had the heated vest that Moose gave me after Chemo. It was showing 50F on the thermometer. Nothing was cutting it. I did not go out Sunday AM. The forecast was for 31F at sunrise. It did not get that low, but I bundled up and took my coffee out on the porch. It was rugged. The rest of the crew slept in as well. This is what happens when the Patriarch falters. I will be discussing this with the doc. I can’t do Rifle Season like this.
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