The MN Whitetail Deer Hunting Opener is one of my, and fellow hunters, favorite time of year. A time to spend with friends, family and the outdoors. Whether or not a deer is harvested by myself, I still enjoy it. The peacefulness of being in your stand solo, the crisp morning air, the warmness felt by sunshine in the afternoon, the time spent dwelling in the years events and Read More of the Story…

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Over the past three years my older brother, Boner, has came up to my place around my birthday to celebrate with me by shooting some clay pigeons and sighting in our deer rifles. This year was a blast as usual.
We talked earlier in the week, finalizing our plan. He hinted around that he had been looking at new shotguns and couldn’t believe how much they were, he’s kinda tight. I knew what he meant as I had bought one last year, used though and I am kinda tight also. So, imagine my surprise when he showed up at my place to unveil a new Franchi, Italian, semi-auto shotgun. What a nice gun and off we went to break it in.
We arrived at our normal shooting gravel pit in a MN state forest and got set up. A beautiful September day, partly sunny with a slight south breeze and around 70 degrees. We started with sighting in our deer rifles. Our shots were consistent and he beat me in our final shoot off by a 1/8″. On to the fun stuff, clay pigeons. I thought it would be appropriate to have him shoot and me throw first, give this Italian stallion shotgun a chance to prove itself. Sure as (you know), first clay he smoked it. After that he had a drought for awhile. We alternated shooting and throwing. He was still in his drought when we talked about switching shotguns to see how they each shot. He grabbed my Remington, American, shotgun and stepped up by taking three out of five clays. I didn’t do as well with the Italian gun by only going one out of five. We were down to only four clays after starting with a case of ninety. In our final clay pigeon shoot off I redeemed myself from the deer rifle final shoot off and took him down. After nearly four hours of being there, it was time to leave.
We went back to my house and had some burgers and beers, talking about the day and the hunting trips coming up. What a way to spend a day, Thanks Boner!

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One fine fall day in mid-season we decided it was time to leave the cabin and make an attempt at a deer drive. Standers were assigned their spots and four of “the brothers” started down the field road to get to the other end of the woods and start the drive. We had only gone a short distance when brother Tom whispered, “deer!”. Sure enough, 120 yards down, a nice doe was eating acorns under an oak tree right on the side of the road. We were caught in the open with nowhere to hide, but the deer seemed totally unaware of our presence. After a quickly convened family meeting it was decided that brother Glen, the youngest, should do the shooting. Glen took careful aim and let fly with a round from his .308. The dirt kicked up at the deer’s feet,but it continued to eat, oblivious to the commotion down the road. “Higher” someone whispered. Glen fired another round and managed to trim a branch right over the deer’s head. “Lower” was the unanimous verdict on that shot. And so it continued, brothers offering advice and Glen spraying lead to all points of the compass. Eventually he ran out of ammo so Tom offered his gun and the circus continued. Through all this commotion the deer was totally unconcerned, obviously word of the Virnig gang’s marksmanship had previously reached the wildlife community. After approximately 15 non-lethal shots the doe appeared perturbed at the interruption of it’s lunch hour and wandered off. Later in the day we ran into a neighboring party. They asked us how many deer were in the herd we were shooting at around noon. We just cast a knowing glance at each other and kept silent. Family honor was at stake.

Happy Birthday Steve!

Mike and RoseAnn

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One of the things I have always been told about deer hunting is to make sure your not giving off any scent. People say deer can smell any odor and when they do, you have no chance of seeing a deer let alone getting one.

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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While hunting in a MN state forest with Crusty (my brother), my father & mother and youngest brother, Rob, we would go to the campground in the state forest after each day of hunting to see how many deer were hanging. At times there were nice bucks and other times just does. It was also a way for us to show everyone what we got too.
Well, about 7-8 yrs ago we saw a very impressive 10pt buck hanging. So we stopped there and started talking to a kid (13 – 14yrs old) as he was the only person at this campsite. After asking “who got this buck? at what time?” etc… this kid told us the guy that shot it was in town, and he said “I got one too!” As we all turned our heads to look at his deer hanging from the tree, all we saw was a deer the size of a German Shepard! I mean honestly, how could anyone even see that small of a deer, yet alone shoot it?? The only thing anyone said was “yep.”
We just killed this kids dream hunt in a matter of 5 seconds.
All we could do after that was say “Well, good luck tomorrow.” We got back in the truck and realized what we had done. Poor kid must have thought that those hunters are real (use your imagination).
To this day we feel bad for that kid , but it was funny at the time when he said “I got one too” and our response was priceless.

P.S. Never saw that kid again….

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Opening day of the deer hunt is always filled with excitement and anticipation, even more so when it’s your first hunt.
I had already hunted for some years with my husband before our oldest son joined us. This season would be the first hunt for our second son, Steven. Since we hunt in a MN state forest, we are a little apprehensive on opening morning if some other hunter will be in the area we’ve scouted.
All is well as we approach our stands this November morning. We wish each other success and a safe hunt as we disband, each to our own stands.
It’s an overcast morning with average MN November temperatures (cold). The darkness slowly subsides and the dawn breaks. I take in my surroundings and am thankful to be in the woods on this calm, peaceful morning.
There are occasional shots in the distance but none close enough to be one of my fellow hunters. It is late morning and I’m cold and stiff when I’m suddenly jolted by a single nearby shot. YES!!! It’s from Steve’s direction. I calm my excitement to sit quietly, watchful in case a deer heads my way.
After a time, I make my way down from my stand and head in Steve’s direction. His stand is a distance from my area, on a very wooded, slight hilltop with the ground covered in moss…hence the nickname we use, Moss Ridge. As I approach, Steve is standing in his deer stand with his rifle casually laying across his arm.
“Where’s your deer?” I ask.
He replies “I figure about 2 miles from here by now” in a very disappointed tone. He relates the story. Four does, on a nice trot, passed right in front of his stand, quiet on the mossy hillside. He got a shot off at the last one as it passed him. I chuckle silently to myself at the visual of his story.
“Well, come down Steve and we’ll check it out”. When we get to the area where he thought the deer was when he fired, sure enough, sign of a hit.
As we follow the faint blood trail, I’m hopeful my son has bagged his first deer. Suddenly, the deer jumps up in front of us. Steve confidently brings up his rifle and fires as the deer is bounding away from us. The shot drops her in her tracks.
The thrill and excitement of my son’s first hunt culminates in his bagging a nice doe. He has since taken many deer, including a couple of nice bucks. But nothing can match the memory of being a part of his first deer, standing alongside of him as he takes down that doe.
Posted in honor of Steven’s birthday…Happy Birthday, Steve!

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My father and I had a pack of beagle hounds that we used to run rabbits. They were a mixed pack, their leader being a Yellow Creek, aptly named “Old Yellar”, and a collection of Saddlebacks of various sizes and shapes, “Cleo”, “Willie” and “Keefer”. My daddy traded a .22 rifle for three of them and an old uncle gave me one that wouldn’t cooperate with him. Nothing more aggravating than a beagle that just won’t do right. While they may have been a motley sort of crew, they could really put the hammer on a rabbit. When they were all running hard it sounded like music to a dog man’s ears as they crossed the hills and hollows of south Mississippi putting pressure on a cottontail or a swamper to break into the open to give us a decent shot.

Our dog yard was about 150 yards from our house at the end of a well worn path through our garden and pasture. About twice a summer we would mow the pasture, so most of the time we followed the path back and forth to the dogyard because the grass was deep. In the summer it gave you a sense of safety from the snakes if you stayed on the path,….or so we thought.

One summer as a young boy, due to either being too busy during the day fishing or most likely due to teenaged procrastination it was nearly dark before I either remembered or was reminded that I needed to feed and water my dogs. Most of the time my daddy expected those dogs to be fed, water, and checked ahead of my own eating. He believed in and cared greatly for the well being of those dogs. I guess he figured he could birth another son easier than he could assemble another good pack of rabbit hounds. Well in being the obedient son I was, I gathered a bucket of Jim Dandy’s Finest dog feed and without a flashlight, I followed that narrow, well worn path through the garden and pasture to the dog yard and fed my hounds, checking on their well being. When I was satisfied that they were eating and doing well in their confines, I headed back to the house in the dark. There was just enough light to make out the gap in the grass where the path lay. On the way back to the house with only an empty bucket in my hand, I was stopped cold in my tracks by the unmistakable buzz of a rattlesnake. It’s hard to describe the buzz of a rattler in the dark, but the closest thing I can think of is one of those wind up toys we used to put in the palm of our hands to scare people when they shook our hands. High pitched, high frequency, non-stop buzz,…zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. I immediately envisioned a 10 ft long rattler with a 20 rattles and 2″ long fangs ready to inject me leading to a painful death, followed by being swallowed by this monster of the darkness. I would never be found, no trace, just an empty dog food bucket on the pathway. To say that my heart lept into my throat is an understatement and even as I write this my memories are causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. As hard as I tried, I could not pinpoint whether the snake was ahead, behind, or beside me. It sounded like he was everywhere. In the dark the sound was deceptive and frightening. My skin turned clammy, the hair on my neck rose on end , my heart rate went from 60 to 600 beats per minute instantly and I was to put it bluntly, freaking out! I believe this was my first panic attack,…and for a good reason,…a powerful, dangerous snake was bearing down on me. As I stood perfectly still for a few seconds trying to pinpoint the location of the snake my survival instincts were working at breakneck speed to figure out how to keep fangs from sinking into my leg.

I quickly figured my only recourse was to use the bucket to distract the snake so I picked a spot just ahead of me and, in the dark, threw the bucket at that spot and jumped as far over it as I could. I hit the ground in an odd run/jump fashion covering ground at an amazing clip. Without a stop watch I suspect I covered that last 100 yds, oh in about 2.2 seconds.

An hour later, after a panic stricken explanation to my mother, a clean pair of underwear and a glass of sweet tea my blood pressure and heart rate dropped from the sky back to normal. Needless to say, from that day forward that path was kept mowed and dogs were fed during daylight hours.

Later in the same summer, we killed a 6 foot rattler some 50 yards north of the dog pen while bringing hay out of the field. While I suspected at the time it was the same snake, I was later proven wrong,…but that’s another story for a later day.

“ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ”

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