Sudden change of plans ends modern gun season for deer hunter
Posted on Sunday, November 30, 2008
RUSHING — When the buck fell, my deer season was all but over a full five days before Thanksgiving as Lady Luck smiled upon me one more time. It’s certainly been a season to remember. And I’m going to enjoy it. The hunting gods aren’t likely to be so kind in 2009.
Two bucks and a black bear are chillin’ in the freezer so the only play I have left is to take a doe during archery season or during the Christmas gun hunt in zone 6. I guess it’s a nice problem to have but it sure curtailed my hunting plans over Thanksgiving. Oh the horror, I’ll have to be sociable ! And watch parades !
I intended to be in White Rock WMA on Saturday, Nov. 22 but lastminute changes found me traveling to Van Buren County to hunt with longtime buddy Johnny Trujillo. It was our only chance to hang out during the modern gun season so I packed up Friday evening and headed to my parents’ house in Morrilton for a few hours sleep.
Three a. m. is not a fitting time to rouse from slumber but hunters often do goofy things in pursuit of whitetail deer. Johnny wanted me in Clinton by 4 a. m. so that’s all I needed to hear. Once there, we drove to our hunting destination near Rushing, which is about 10 miles northeast of Shirley on the Stone County line. Yep, it’s way out there in God’s country.
Jimmy Harper owns the property and he’s one of those rare cats that make you laugh without ever saying a word. He and Johnny are good friends and I’m just lucky enough to ride John’s coattails onto some good deer-hunting land.
Jimmy rolls out the red carpet but he ain’t going to walk down it for you. It’s the same way with breakfast. He made the biscuits and sausage but it’s a serve-yourself type deal. He’s more likely to poke fun than give a compliment but, then again, that’s the way it should be. I like a good sense of humor, even if it’s at my own expense.
Hunters began straggling in a little at a time as daybreak crept closer. Besides playful ridicule, conversations ranged from the frigid cold to Razorback athletics to the economy in the toilet to, well, the toilet. It was great. I enjoyed every minute of it.
Although I’m partial to a big box stand overlooking a small clearing, I ceded to everyone else first. After all, I was just visiting. Lucky for me, that ended up being my destination.
This stand is awesome. I can’t say my past luck there has been good but sometimes comfort trumps hunting success, especially since I’m used to sitting in an uncomfortable ladder stand. I really love the car seat sitting in the middle of the stand. Man, that’s taking deer hunting to a whole new level.
I nestled in with a ton of clothes to fight off the 20-degree chill and I had my trusty. 30-06 to my right and a thermos of hot coffee to my left. And just after first light, the deer began to move. You’ve heard of heaven on earth ? I know where it’s at.
A doe and two little ones suddenly appeared and meandered around feeding on acorns and corn. When I first spotted them, I instinctively reached for my gun but I couldn’t move a whole lot because the doe kept one eye on me and the other on her fawns. Finally, the trio left the area, allowing me to relax just a bit.
While pondering a cup of coffee, movement caught my eye. The three deer had reentered the clearing but the doe stopped and kept staring at the far end of the field. Past experiences told me a buck was likely in the area so I got my gun in a semi-ready position. Within seconds, a 7-point appeared 100 yards in front of me and he dropped almost as fast once I got the crosshairs centered.
My shot placement wasn’t exactly where I aimed but anytime a deer drops where it stands, it’s a good shot. The big-bodied buck sported a modest basket-rack and a thick neck, telling me the rut may be waning but it’s not dead yet.
Hunting in the rugged terrain of White Rock WMA, I’m not used to things being easy once I pull the trigger. But thanks to Jimmy, I didn’t even work up a sweat in this section of the Ozarks. He drove right up to the deer and once we had it in the truck, we went to a nearby creek and field-dressed it in no time. Shoot, we were back at Jimmy’s house by 8: 30 a. m.
Johnny’s hunt didn’t go as well but, to be fair, he’s much pickier than I am. He’s yet to pull the trigger this season but something tells me he’ll get the one he’s looking for soon. He’s one of the best hunters I know and a trusted mentor.
I had to get the deer checked in and skinned and quartered before I headed home so it was time to say goodbye, albeit a lot earlier than planned. I gave Jimmy a sincere handshake of thanks and he muttered something about just showing up to kill his deer and how I needed to get my tail back to Fayetteville. That Jimmy’s such a joker.
At least I think he was joking.
Bobby Hill is the outdoors columnist for the Times and lives in Fayetteville.
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