When Ryan saw this buck at 450 yards he scrambled out of his blind, fell off a short cliff, and closed to within 180 yards to shoot it off his shooting sticks. Regardless of the buck's score he is a trophy in Ryan's book.

T.J. thought about passing up this buck, but now he's glad he didn't!

In my book a trophy is any deer that excites you and you feel good about. Our group goes back and forth between setting strict standards of what a trophy is by B&C score and having a great experience. We all believe in the let them grow philosophy, but also understand that when you fall off a cliff, race to catch up, and shoot off of sticks at long range, then the deer is a great one no matter what the score.

Another guy in our group saw an 11 pointer from a mile away and busted over the hills to see if he could catch him. The deer was moving and my friend worked hard to close the distance. When he did and he shot the deer did it really matter what the score was? I don’t think so. This same guy believes setting trophy standards on the land we hunt, but in this case the quality of the hunt trumped any standard.

I believe in finding a balance between setting arbitrary rules and quality hunting. If you can believe in both and let both guide you then you will have both. Balance in all things, as they say.

When I first started hunting with my dad when I was 14 we were just interested in shooting a legal buck. I remember some spikes that gave me levels of excitement that are hard to find today. the older I get the more I know that hunting with family and friends is the best. Deer camp, almost any deer camp, is the best.  Trophy hunting is great, but onlybecomes the best when it combines with family, friends and fun.

A friend called me today and told me about how he gave up his Michigan deer stand to a new-be in the camp. The new guy shot one of the best deer  ever on that land. When Mike told me this story I could tell he was truly happy and excited for the young hunter. My friend gets what hunting is all about.

I always thought my grunt tube was limited to pulling a buck from short range out of  cover, or stopping a deer that was walking past, or as part of a rattling session, but this year I added a new chapter to grunt tubing for big deer .

My son and I were hunting in Texas and after taking a “trophy” buck he was looking for a “cull”, which our group defines as a mature, slick-horned buck of 8 points or less. I had seen and videoed a big 6 pointer the day before. The buck was the largest 6 I had ever seen in the wild and Bill said it was the one he wanted if we could find him again.

The next morning we positioned between some wheat fields that were a half-mile away and a river bottom. Deer feeding in the fields at night filtered back to bedding cover in a river bottom throughout the morning. Some rushed for the river at the first hint of daylight while others took their time, pausing in the high draws and thickets, looking for ready does. The day before the Big 6 was late, not showing until around 9:00 a.m.  and we planned to stay in our blinds and see if we could find him again.

Bill went to the blind where I hunted the day before and I chose another 500 yards away. We could see each other and because the country was open in places could often see the deer that passed the other guy. Early we saw plenty of deer and many small bucks, but not the trophy I was looking for or the Big 6. My butt was getting tired of sitting and I was ready to move when Bill called me on the radio and said he saw the buck coming. I looked and could see him too and there was no doubt about the deer being the one Bill wanted.

The buck worked down the slope quickly, angling toward where Bill was sitting. It looked like he would pass within 300 yards and give him a chance. The buck would cross a small creek before stepping out where a shot could be made. Both of us watched and thought the moment was near, only the deer didn’t play by our rules.

He crossed the creek and started out into the then stopped, still in cover. Bill ranged him and said he was in tall grass 275 yards away – no open shot. Then the buck turned and walked back into the cover of the creek and stayed there. It looked like he was going to bed down.

While we waited for something to happen I looked to my left and saw a deer crossing a hill far off. I glassed him and saw he was big, maybe the buck I was looking for, so I ranged him and he was 500 yards away walking slowly toward the river. I didn’t have rattling horns, just my grunt tube and as the morning was calm and sound would carry well, I thought there would be nothing lost  if I blew on the tube for maximum sound.

Bill’s buck was in the brush perhaps 700 yards from me and I didn’t think it would hear me so I concentrated on the big one. I hit the tube as hard as I could and still have it sound right, and the 500-yard deer didn’t respond at first. Then he stopped and looked at me. I hit the tube again and he kept looking, before continuing on his way.

Just then Bill said through the radio that the Big 6 was out of the creek and headed my way. I shifted my binoculars and saw him coming fast on a straight line right at me. It was like he was on a lazer path. Could he have heard the grunt tube? It seemed so.

This was all good news for Bill as it would bring the deer through an open area just over a hundred yards from him.

I saw the buck work into the open, but he was moving fast and Bill would have to act before the deer reached the tall grass again.  Then, at the last moment the deer stopped and turned toward Bill. Later I would learn that Bill had the cross hairs on him and yelled causing the buck to look.

The buck humped and ran ahead, then I heard the shot. It took a second or more for the sound to reach me. After a short dash the buck piled up.

Later at the locker plant the guy said the deer would weigh 200 pounds, but I think he was high and guessed the Big 6s weight to be 20-25 pounds less than that.

What I learned on this hunt was that a grunt tube wasn’t just a short-range tool and could, under the right circumstances, work at surprising distances.

Bill and the Big 6

I found this buck as I crossed a hill slowly taking a step or two, pausing, and scanning what I could see on the other side. When I saw him I had to crawl to the crest to get clear of the grass and shoot from a sitting position with my elbows on my knees.

Click on the image to enlarge.
My son Bill shot this great 10 point buck and I was happy to find this big 8 pointer.
I spoted Bill’s deer and guided him to it by radio. It took a young man to scramble around all those hills in time to get a shot before the buck moved off. We’ll both remember this hunt for years to come.

Handsome 7-pt

Whenever I go to Texas to hunt I get pretty excited and this year is no exception.  Of the three bucks I saw the first afternoon this one was the best and even though he isn’t a  trophy, he is eye candy to start the hunt.

 

Pat and Chewy

 

 

Birdie wants to hold her grouse a little longer. I just wanted her to look at the camera.

Sid, my year old English setter wrapped up her first season in the UP hunting grouse for three weeks. She shared time in the woods with Birdie a more polished setter. I’d hunt one in the morning and the other in the afternoon. I keep notes on where I hunt and how many grouse I flush. I don’t count re-flushes and often count family groups as one (don’t know why). We hunt exceptional cover and go both morning and afternoon. There were a few travel days and the ten spent heading to Florida, but after that I was in the woods most of the time until Halloween. Lucy and I like to hike and we would get on UP trails and see where they went. Along the way we would find birds. Later with a buddy I was able to crack into the covers for a week.

My notes show that by the conservative way I count the dogs saw 265 different grouse and many uncounted woodcock. Some grouse were heard and not seen and others held well for the dogs.

Sid started the year chasing and “busting” nearly everything she smelled. On her first trip north she would lose herself and I would have to shoot my gun for her to find me. In time she learned to keep track of me and would circle to find my track. She also started holding her points and would stand tall at the first scent with her nose and tail held high. She’d hold too until I got there and then it was anybody’s guess what she would do next. She might break and flush, or she might go off hunting in another direction if she had lost the scent. I never knew what to expect.

Unlike Birdie who loves to retrieve, Sid isn’t interested and needs to be professionally trained. I tried last summer with no success and quit before I started teaching negative things.  – If anyone knows of a pro trainer here in Michigan who does the “trained retrieve” I’d appreciate a heads up.

Overall I’d give Sid a B grade for her first season. She needs me to work with her on being steady to wing and shot and maybe that will help her understand the rest of what she is doing too. A little more maturity, a lot of training, and a lot of wild birds next fall will help her come along. Many hunters that I know would love her just as she is full of hunting desire, style, and quite a bit of experience for a young dog, but I want more. Time will tell, tune in here for the Sid Report next fall.

Life doesn’t always turn out as we expect – of course we all know that. In my case my neat little plan to hunt grouse all fall in both the northern lower and upper peninsula of Michigan took a U-turn when Lucy and I received a call from Florida that a key family member was in hospice care and we headed south to help.  I won’t share the sadness, but will tell you about some pretty cool fishing that goes on there in October.

I had read about the mullet run in SE Florida for many years where huge schools of bait fish (mullet) migrate along the shore followed by all kinds of hungry predators and this was my chance to see it in the morning. Lucy and I stood on the Juno pier and watched as schools of mullet shaded the water dark in schools about the size of a large house. Every now and then something would attack them and shoals of fish would  clear the water in their effort to escape. As soon as one school passed another could be seen coming along. For the fishermen on the pier it was a bonanza as they cast silver spoons and hooked bluefish, jacks and Spanish mackerel. One guy hauled a 25 pound king mackerel off the pier proving that big fish follow the food right in along the beach. I saw several sharks, but had no idea whet kind they were.

I took my fly rod to the beach and had a good morning when it was calm, but the next day when the surf pounded in my fly rod was no match for conditions.

Small jacks on a fly rod are fun to catch.

small jacks and blues were feeding like crazy from the Juno pier.

 

Despite the high wind BIrdie was in charge, or maybe just lucky.

packing lunch in the morning. Sid looks ready to go out the door. Birdie wants some more pats before she goes out into the snow.

When I suggested to Lucy that we go to the UP and do some outdoor stuff she signed on with the stipulation that we not return to the cabin before 5:00 p.m. . We like to walk  and she was game for the woods, but not if it meant that we would be lounging around the cabin after a little morning out. You have to understand that she was an unrelenting second-grade teacher for a long career and slacking is not in her DNA. I could be talked into an afternoon nap, but if I have to keep after the grouse I guess I’ll have to suffer.

We encountered snow on the ground when we went out in the morning. Not thickness, but skiffs and heavy dusting.  It melted with the sun and created snow lines where the shadows shielded the snow from the sun. If you don’t understand what I mean by that you must be from far away. 

We went to the Quarter Mile More cover and explored it fully. We flushed three birds and it was obvious that the birds were out of the wind and fresh snow. We arrived back at the truck after almost three hours of  walking with a grouse and three wood cock in the bag. 

In the afternoon it was really windy. At times the beeper collar was hard to hear even at close range. It was Sid’s turn to find the birds. She worked hard and we flushed several, only the birds were going up 40 yards ahead of Sid before she even knew they were there. The blustrery wind made them nervous. I never came close to a shot until we were in the last mile of the hunt. Sid slammed into a great point and as I started moving to her, a grouse went up 30 yards to the front. Sid broke with the flush, I shot, and the grouse went on to happiness somewhere else.

While I would have like Sid to be steady, I really liked her point, stopping when she first smelled the bird at a distance, and her style. To be honest, after that she bumped two woodcock before we got back to the car. I don’t fault what I don’t see, but I suspect she was out of control wth herself and ran the birds over because she was driving too fast for conditions. Teen drivers are scary to those who love them and probably to those who don’t as well .

.

 

Sid was impatient to get out there. She had a great point on a grouse that I missed.

 

Birdie and one of her grouse.

We’ve been out looking at new covers and trying to find walks on trails that didn’t have exposed clay that was turned to glop in the last rain. Walking with an extra pound of mud on each foot is hard. Anyway, yesterday afternoon Dennis stopped by on his way back from a two-week duck hunt in Manitoba and after talking with him we got a late start to the afternoon. I headed to a road I/we had been exploring, looking for a hidden gem that other hunters didn’t hit because circumstances lead them away from it. Well, we found it. I saw a closed forest service road barred with a gate to vehicles but not to walkers and illegal 4-wheelers. The road didn’t have any good-looking cover, but did appear to be of about the right age to have been a logging road in the past. We parked and walked northeast.  Could see some side roads that went to aspen cuts and thought that most hunters who wandered this way would take those. Lucy and I plowed ahead. I was unprepared and had the gun hanging at my side in an easy way to carry and as you would know a grouse roared up beside me and I felt the fool as it sailed away in the open. It would have been an easy shot. On we walked and the cover stayed open and old, not grouse cover.

 

As we passed three-quarters of a mile of this I thought we should give up and go back to the cover we had seen. Lucy, who likes to walk and log miles, said we should give it another quarter-mile and that’s what we named the cover we found, Lucy’s Quarter Mile More Cover. Ten-year old aspen and spruce mixed. It was broken and irregular like grouse like and there was food all over in the form of yellow nettle fruit and other “grouse berries.” Not knowing the shape of the cover I GPSed in our starting point and we starting walking only to hear Birdie’s collar beeping point! I found her; the bird went to the sky and came back down where Birdie retrieved it.

 A few minutes later I saw Birdie slow and went after her before the beeper sounded. She went on point and a grouse I couldn’t see flushed ahead. Knowing that they aren’t all singles I stayed at ready and caught the second bird.

We continued to move and Birdie found more grouse, but none I could shoot at. Finally she was on point in an open area and I thought maybe she had a woodcock pinned when neither a bird flushed nor she would give up the point. I released her; she did a small loop and pointed the same area again. By this time the grouse that thought it could sit it out could take it no longer and birdie retrieved it again after the #7 ½-shot caught up with it in the aspen.

I added a woodcock to the bag and we were near where we started our circle. I said to Lucy that I though we had enough. Three grouse and a WC in less than an hour was enough, even though I think I might have collected two more if we continued on. I didn’t need a limit to find happiness.

Along the way back Birdie pointed two more birds. One was impossible to see and I knocked a handful of feathers out of the second, but was not able to collect the bird. I saw where it went and Birdie pointed again and the bird flew behind cover and I couldn’t shoot. I didn’t feel good about losing that bird, as I know it will die. Maybe someday I will understand how I can shoot these birds and still feel bad when I lose one that has been wounded.

 

It was late by the time we got back to the cabin. Lucy started the chili while I groomed dogs, cleaned birds, and took a shower. While I mixed rum and coke Lucy had her shower and we ate with a happy tired burn going on in our woods-weary legs. I think we walked nearly six miles through the woods and trails and we needed rest like the dogs.

 

Birdie did a very good job. She’s nearly finished in her grouse education and most hunters would kiss the ground she walks on. She’s really good; although both she and I know that there are things she has yet to figure out. Seeing as many birds as she does will do it for her.

 

Sid is like a 16-year old with a driver’s license and her parents car. She means well, but she doesn’t always do well. Her breeding drives her through the woods at a dangerous speed and I can only remember with a shudder how Birdie did the same at her age and suffered serious leg, nose and tail injuries that needed medical attention, not to mention raw, furless, bloody skin on under her eyes and across her ankles from running through the thick with her foot pinning the accelerator in her desire to find birds.

 

Fortunately, knock-on-wood, Sid hasn’t injured herself to that extent yet. She burns through the thick stuff and would hunt on the horizon if I let her.  She’s learning to check in and hunt with us, although she often forgets. She is so into the game that she sees little of how she can do it better at this time. Her points are tremendous and stylish. Just the other day she hit a scent and she skidded to a stop, nose up, reaching for more with tail lifted high. I looked for the bird but found nothing.  I released her and instead of moving cautiously, she floored it, tires leaving double skid marks in the fallen leaves in a sliding fishtail. The grouse, some 30- 40 yards away blew out and that was it. The initial point was great, but the rest needs a little work. She’ll get it and I keep telling myself that Birdie out-grew the same stage and look at what she can do now.  Only when I’m in the moment with Sid it is a little stressful – think teen driver with your car.

 

Mac is Sid's brother from this year's litter and is only 18 weeks old. Pat was pretty proud when Mac pointed and retrieved this wood cock.