Seldom do these forays pay off.  In fact, I have to think hard of just one wild goose chase that ended in success.  But, boy, can I think of ones that resulted in frustation and fatigue.

Years ago I decided to hit a lake that was supposed to have great big bass in it, and nobody ever fished it because there was no public access.  Sound familiar?  Anyway, I found a spot I could manhandle my boat down a bank into a river that flowed to the lake.  The first hundred yards went smoothly until I hit fields of wild rice.  It seemed like I rowed through the rice forever before I saw the blue lake in the distance.  But when I reaced the edge of open water, there were large expanses of thick coontail growing right up to the surface.  Each time  I dipped the oar it came up with a mass of weeds clinging to it.

Deep in my heart I knew it was going to be worth all the sweat and hard work.  But I should have learned to not trust my deep feeling years ago.  The lake turned out to be a “snake pit”, nothing but little northerns to catch.  At least on that day.  By the time I got back to my truck it was dark, and I had long decided I would never come back to give the bass a second chance.

I don’t think any group of outdoorsmen are suckers for wild goose chases like duck hunters, though.  If I put together every mile I walked looking for duck-filled beaver ponds, the length would reach the planet Saturn and back to Minnesota.

Now I have gotten tired while hunting, everyone does.  But the only time I have ever been so tired I was miserable was during an all day jaunt looking for a series of beaver ponds.  My good friend and I started walking so early we manuevered the first few miles by flashlight.  By noon we were figured we were getting close.  By afternoon we were hoping we were in the same county.  Later we hoped we would get there before season ended for the day.  But but our passion for ducks kept us going.

Finially in the distance loomed the biggest beaver dam I had ever seen.  The structure must have been over ten feet high.  With a dam that big we thought there must be lots of water, and ducks, on the other side.  Silently we scaled the logs and mud and peered over the other side.  There was nothing, not even water.  The beaver pond was bone dry.
Like someone pulled a cork, every drop of energy and determination drained out of me.  I thought I couldn’t feel worse until I heard that sound.  From the ridge to our right came the sound of men conversing and laughing.  Then the sound of closing truck doors and starting engine.  Helplessly we gazed after the vehicle as it carried the guys effortlessy down an unseen logging road.  But there was only one thing for us to do, start back so we could get home by midnight.

No other game bird represents American upland bird shooting like the ruffed grouse.   Early colonists quickly recognized the superior eating quality of grouse.  I’ll bet there was probably more grouse than turkey eaten at the first Thanksgiving.
Early sportsmen found the prized birds to a challenging target when taken on the wing.  Though the grouse only flies about half as fast as a duck or goose, they zig-zag around trees and brush so fast they appear to be dodging your shots.

So now that season is almost open, what can one do to put more grouse in the bag?  That may be the toughest question posed by a hunter because there are few pat answers.  Some of the most successful grouse hunters don’t hunt with dogs, others wouldn’t dream of going without one.  Some experts claim you need to take careful aim and lead the bird, some rely on the snapshooting technique to bag a few.

The only thing I know for sure that will put more grouse in the game pouch is to see more birds.  That may sound overly simple, but too many hunters randomly stroll through woods that are terrible grouse cover.

Concentrate your efforts by hunting in spots that offer food and cover for grouse.  In our part of the country that usually means hunting in mature stands of aspen.  But other spots that harbor grouse are thickly grown over spots with apple trees or wild grapes near by.  Fruits like these are usually found in the vicinity of abandoned farms or homesteads.  These spots are even better if there is a few clearings and conifer groves mixed in.

Every time you come across a good spot, mark it in a plat book or on a county or topographical map.  When you’ve laid out a string of them, you’ve developed a “grouse circuit” so you can quickly move from one hot spot to the next.  Just make sure you have permission before venturing across private property.

Good grouse spots usually remain good as long as you don’t get greedy and shoot too many birds.  Once you’ve taken a bird or two from a small spot, look for new areas to add to your circuit.  In the long run you’ll have better hunting for partridge…. or grouse.  Whatever you want to call them.

“I used to live out on a farm and one day during Pheasant season, there was a light snow. It blanketed everything in an inch or two and was pristine. I thought that this would be a great time to hunt down a pheasant as we often had them on our property.

So, I climbed in my truck and drove slowly down the drive looking out both sides of the truck. Before long, I saw what I was looking for. A set of pheasant prints in new fallen snow.

I climbed out, grabbed my shotgun, and carefully followed those tracks. Before long the tracks stopped. It didn’t look like the pheasant took off, I’ve seen what that looks like in the snow. No, these tracks looked like they just stopped. So I started looking around. Right next these tracks there was a bush so I looked carefully inside and sure enough, there was the pheasant just sitting there staring at me.

On a whim, I reached in and grabbed it by the neck. Now what am I going to do with this. So I threw it up in the air and shot it!”

Everyone at the table busted out laughing!

“It was the easiest shot I ever made!”

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This post was submitted by Doug.

We liked to send a congrats out to Craig and his son, while hunting in central Minnesota, who both just recently harvested wild turkeys. Great job guys…lets hear about it on the RRR website.

The time of year for the boyz at Davis J. Hennes is also exciting. We’re closer than ever to unveiling a product for all hunters and anglers to use for a lifetime.  We hope you can wait a little bit longer, it will be worth it.

Prez. @ Davis J. Hennes, LLC

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This post was submitted by CRUSTY.

ROPING A DEER
Author unknown – probably for good reason

I had this idea that I could rope a deer, put it in a stall, feed it up on corn for a couple of weeks, then kill it and eat it. The first step in this adventure was getting a deer.

I figured that, since they congregate at my cattle feeder and do not seem to have much fear of me when we are there (a bold one will sometimes come right up and sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the truck not 4 feet away), it should not be difficult to rope one, get up to it and toss a bag over its head (to calm it down) then hog tie it and transport it home.

I filled the cattle feeder then hid down at the end with my rope. The cattle, having seen the roping thing before, stayed well back. They were not having any of it. After about 20 minutes, my deer showed up– 3 of them. I picked out a likely looking one, stepped out from the end of the feeder, and threw my rope. The deer just stood there and stared at me. I wrapped the rope around my waist and twisted the end so I would have a good hold.

The deer still just stood and stared at me, but you could tell it was mildly concerned about the whole rope situation. I took a step towards it, it took a step away. I put a little tension on the rope … and then received an education. The first thing that I learned is that, while a deer may just stand there looking at you funny while you rope it, they are spurred to action when you start pulling on that rope.

That deer EXPLODED. The second thing I learned is that pound for pound, a deer is a LOT stronger than a cow or a colt. A cow or a colt in that weight range I could fight down with a rope and with some dignity. A deer– no chance.

That thing ran and bucked and twisted and pulled. There was no controlling it and certainly no getting close to it. As it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me across the ground, it occurred to me that having a deer on a rope was not nearly as good an idea as I had originally imagined. The only upside is that they do not have as much stamina as many other animals.

A brief 10 minutes later, it was tired and not nearly as quick to jerk me off my feet and drag me when I managed to get up. It took me a few minutes to realize this, since I was mostly blinded by the blood flowing out of the big gash in my head. At that point, I had lost my taste for corn-fed venison.. I just wanted to get that devil creature off the end of that rope.

I figured if I just let it go with the rope hanging around its neck, it would likely die slow and painfully somewhere. At the time, there was no love at all between me and that deer. At that moment, I hated the thing, and I would venture a guess that the feeling was mutual. Despite the gash in my head and the several large knots where I had cleverly arrested the deer’s momentum by bracing my head against various large rocks as it dragged me across the ground, I could still think clearly enough to recognize that there was a small chance that I shared some tiny amount of responsibility for the situation we were in. I didn’t want the deer to have to suffer a slow death, so I managed to get it lined back up in between my truck and the feeder – a little trap I had set before hand…kind of like a squeeze chute. I got it to back in there and I started moving up so I could get my rope back.

Did you know that deer bite?

They do! I never in a million years would have thought that a deer would bite somebody, so I was very surprised when … I reached up there to grab that rope and the deer grabbed hold of my wrist. Now, when a deer bites you, it is not like being bit by a horse where they just bite you and then let go. A deer bites you and shakes its head–almost like a pit bull. They bite HARD and it hurts.

The proper thing to do when a deer bites you is probably to freeze and draw back slowly. I tried screaming and shaking instead. My method was ineffective.

It seems like the deer was biting and shaking for several minutes, but it was likely only several seconds. I, being smarter than a deer (though you may be questioning that claim by now), tricked it. While I kept it busy tearing the tendons out of my right arm, I reached up with my left hand and pulled that rope loose.

That was when I got my final lesson in deer behavior for the day.

Deer will strike at you with their front feet. They rear right up on their back feet and strike right about head and shoulder level, and their hooves are surprisingly sharp. I learned a long time ago that,
when an animal –like a horse –strikes at you with their hooves and you can’t get away easily, the best thing to do is try to make a loud noise and make an aggressive move towards the animal. This will usually cause them to back down a bit so you can escape.

This was not a horse. This was a deer, so obviously, such trickery would not work. In the course of a millisecond, I devised a different strategy. I screamed like a woman and tried to turn and run. The reason I had always been told NOT to try to turn and run from a horse that paws at you is that there is a good chance that it will hit you in the back of the head. Deer may not be so different from horses after all, besides being twice as strong and 3 times as evil, because the second I turned to run, it hit me right in the back of the head and knocked me down.

Now, when a deer paws at you and knocks you down, it does not immediately leave. I suspect it does not recognize that the danger has passed. What they do instead is paw your back and jump up and down on you while you are laying there crying like a little girl and covering your head.

I finally managed to crawl under the truck and the deer went away. So now I know why when people go deer hunting they bring a rifle with a scope to sort of even the odds.

All these events are true so help me God… An Educated Rancher

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This post was submitted by CRUSTY.

Happy Birthday Steve!

Mike and RoseAnn

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This post was submitted by Mike Virnig.

It was the Sunday on the last weekend of deer hunting for my family. My brother Steve (Crusty) had gotten a doe in the moring and it was getting about that time to start dragging. My dad and oldest brother Tony had walked past my stand towards the van to get the rope and drop off a few things before we started dragging. I knew I had about only about 20-30min left in my stand for the year and was thinking, that all I saw in 2 weekends of hunting was a few squirrels. To hell with it I thought, I’m gonna have a cigarette. I put my rifle down and lit up. As I was enjoying my smoke, when I heard some leaves crunching behind me. It couldn’t be my dad and bro, that would have been to quick. It’s one of those damn squirrels and this one just might get it! I turned around and saw this doe walking like she didn’t have a care in the world. I couldn’t believe it, slowly I reached for my gun. Started to bring my gun up, that’s when it dawned on me, I still had a cig in my mouth. Well let’s see how this works and I brought my rifle all the way up. Not a good idea Rob, I got an eye full of smoke. Now what, can’t put it out, not enough time. If she goes on the other side of that ridge I’ll lose her. So I let it drop out of my mouth to the forest floor. I pulled my rifle back up and took my shot. She drops! Right at the top of the ridge and takes a few tumbles down the other side. My heart is racing and I start laughing. Climbing down my stand I see my smoke still going, I pick it and start walking to my doe. A few moments after getting to my deer, my dad and brother show up, coming back from the van and as they are coming towards me I’m putting my cig out. My dad looks at me “Dang Rob, what did you do? Shoot and lite up?” All I could do was laugh and say it was the other way around.

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This post was submitted by Robert Lust.

P.S. Never saw that kid again….

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This post was submitted by Tony Lust.

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This post was submitted by Jan Lust.

What has me most excited, however, is that nights are getting cooler, the days a little shorter and hunting season is just around the corner.  Not to mention that September is a great month for Walleye!  I feel like it has been a long summer and am itching for fall in the outdoors.  I’ve read how many hunters are setting up their deer stands, checking their field cameras and getting everything ready for another great season.

We want to encourage all to hunt and fish safely.  Remember that coming home is important, but not as important as coming home with some great stories!  Think about your experience in the field while you are out there this season.  Take an extra look around.  Breath deeply.  Be thankful for the world God has given us and the freedoms we have to enjoy it.  Be open to the inspiration that comes with isolation and communion with nature.  We encourage all of you to take a pencil and some paper and write down your thoughts.  Not only for yourself, but for your posterity.

Those of us who have parents and grandparents who enjoyed the outdoors knows what it’s like to sit around and swap the tails of the trail and hear about hunting in times gone by.  Now is a good time to start preserving your own memories!

Good & Safe Hunting
The Partners at Rod and Rifle Rag

Neal, a high school boy from my neighborhood, was already a genuinely hooked deer hunter, accomplished deer hunter with bow, rifle and muzzleloader. He was the type of guy that would have all his gear out, polished, lined up, double checked and ready for a hunt weeks before the season started. He practiced his already well tuned bow skills year round and went through boxes of ammo to make sure his rife hit just the right spot. His room was clothed in camo, Field and Stream, Bowhunter, and posters of deer. Every chance he got he was picking the brain of another deer hunter looking for that next tactic or trick that would enhance his odds. I learned from him to take a few small rocks to the woods with me during early bow in Mississippi to use to imitate falling white oak acorns, the equivalent of cocaine to Mississippi whitetails. Find white oak acorns, kill deer. Simple. My wife called Neal the youngest deer ‘addict’ she’d ever known besides me. I enjoyed hunting with Neal due to his pleasant nature and his enthusiasm for deer hunting.

On this particular evening, since I didn’t have a truck and Neal was riding with me, in my Honda Civic we followed a narrow road across the pasture behind my mother’s house, through a narrowing in the woods into the hay meadow and parked. From there we walked another 500 yards, crossed the small, white sand, crystal clear water creek. I took a spot in pin oaks near the creek and Neal went on up the ridge. I climbed my tree with a climbing tree stand and settled in. Neal, who used line crew spurs and a lock on stand, settled in as well. Our wait began.

Just before dark a rather large doe made her way to me picking up acorns and munching them. I waited as long as I could in hopes of a buck showing, but it wasn’t to be. With an empty freezer, I decided to take the doe and with one shot from my 7mm-mag she dropped in her tracks. When the disturbance from the shot settled in the woods, a pack of coyotes opened up just across the creek on the next hill. Packed coyotes howling will lead one to believe there are hundreds in the pack just due to the chaotic sounds they make. In all likelihood, there was only a couple to half dozen, but enough to make the hair stand on end on the back of your neck. By the time they stopped howling it was pitch dark and both Neal and I were still in the stands. In a few minutes I could hear the coyotes crossing the creek and yipping as they came towards the downed deer, smelling the blood, ready to feast until only the carcass was left. I shot towards them in the creek and yelled “Get out of here!”, then started climbing down. As I gathered my stand, I listened to hear if Neal was coming down the trail and I heard nothing. I yelled to him “Neal, come on! Let’s get this deer out before the coyotes take it!”. He yelled back with fear in his voice,…”Mr. Carey, I’m not coming down! They’re not getting me!” I couldn’t help but laugh and yelled back “OK,…stay where you are and I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Well,…a few minutes later as I field dressed the doe in the dark I could hear him clattering down the trail, lock-on stand, rifle, clinging spurs and all. Sounded like a runaway old plow mule in trace chains. He ran up to me just about the time I finished the field dress job, grabbed the doe by one leg and took off pulling it towards the creek. I worked to catch up with him and help. In between laughs at him and struggling with getting a deer across a creek and to the back of my car in the dark, those coyotes decided to lay low and stay out of range.

Needless to say, we made it out safely and another deer hunting memory was written seared in our minds. Neal finished high school, went on to pitch college baseball at Ole Miss, married and is now my insurance agent. He’s a fantastic man, a great hunter and a pleasure to know. Good thing the coyotes didn’t get him!

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This post was submitted by Carey A. Buckles.

So after I was done scouting I was on my way back home… now there were a few hunters up there which were starting to make the trek home as well… And as I was driving, up the mountain to my left out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something out of place, so I stopped to take a look and about 50 yards up the hill was a doe with her head stuck way high looking down the hill. so I inched forward to see if she was alone or with some other deer. I kept looking and saw 2…then 3 and 4… all does… then up pops the head of another and BAM!!! a big rack!

Now I about choked when I saw this beautiful 4 point buck (8 point for all you whitetail hunters) I thought to myself “am I seeing things, how did all the hunters that just passed this way not 2 minutes ago not see this?”

So being careful not to spook the deer I slowly rolled the window down, picked up my gun, and put the cross hairs right behind the shoulder (disclaimer…shooting from your vehicle is not exactly legal…so don’t do it, I wasn’t thinking clearly!!!)

I took a deep breath and exhaled and pulled the trigger. Instantly the big buck flipped over backwards and proceeded to roll (dead as a doornail) down the hill towards me… it rolled and rolled and stopped about 5 feet from my car! SWEET HUH!!!?

Then it hit me, oh CRAP! I don’t have a truck or a knife…NOT GOOD!!! all I could picture is me driving down the canyon with a bloody deer on the top of my roof with me hanging out the window trying to hang on to it for dear life…

Just then the truck of hunters that was seconds in front of me had turned around because they heard the shot and when they got to me they about keeled over because here laid this beautiful buck next to my car and they had just passed there not one minute ago and they knew I was driving right behind them…it was really funny to see how dumbfounded they were by the whole thing.

Just then a nice old man that was road hunting pulled up behind me and realized the predicament I was in and offered up his knife and the bed of his truck, so I cleaned it, threw it in the back of his truck and he drove it to my home for me…Ya, it was that easy!

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This post was submitted by Matt Toyn.

I don’t remember how old I was when I finally got to hike along. Up before dawn and getting dressed in my brother’s hand-me-down hunting clothes was so exciting. We didn’t wear camo or the orange vest and hat. Those weren’t the stylye in the 50′s – just dull grays and browns. Off we went up the hill to the ridge where he planned to sit and hunt. It was then that I finally understood why I had to be bigger. Some of the logs we climbed over were three feet in diameter and of course the ground was not level. Indeed, I did need longer legs and a stronger body to keep up.

When we reached the first stand, we sat and waited and waited for what seemed like forever to a nine or ten year old who wasn’t used to being still that long. Then it was on to the next spot. That is how the day went. We didn’t see any deer that day, but it didn’t matter to me, because I knew that you didn’t see deer everytime you went out. Tramping through the forest and experiencing the views from the ridge tops was its own reward. When we got back to camp in the afternoon I’m sure I was exhausted from the long and tough hike, yet I know that I would never have admitted it. I didn’t want anything to keep me from being able go again. I felt proud that I could keep up.

Now, I can take my turn swapping hunting stories around the campfire.

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This post was submitted by Natalie DiGrazia.