Archery season opens tomorrow, October 17. I have most of my tree stands ready. I planted my food plots this summer. Although I don’t anticipate that they’ll create a gold mine of shooting opportunities this year. My equipment is ready and clothes have been de-scented. Lure attractant is at the ready. It will be cold and snowy tomorrow. There is 4” of snow on the ground with another inch predicted over night. Fresh tracking snow! Perfect conditions. Now I just go to bed, think about what tree stand I will head to, and dream of the big buck and various shooting scenarios that I hope will present themselves.
There I was, I couldn’t imagine a more beautiful morning. As the dawn arrived, I began to see deer movement. First a fawn, then several doe. It’s still the first day. Wait for the buck. And without further delay, hot on the trail of these doe was the most magnificent buck. It would be a buck of a lifetime if all went well. Don’t look at the horns. Concentrate on shooting form. Check your yardage. Remember to issue a grunt to stop the deer before you shoot. Steady. Aim. Pick your spot. All of my pre-season preparation appeared to be falling in to place. And then the alarm clock went off!
Trudging through the 5 inches of snow, I went to the South Park tree stand location. Chosen because of the North winds. I would be upwind from the approach deer normally take to this stand in the morning. 25 Yards inside the woods, edged by a food plot of buckwheat, seemed like a good idea on the way. I had not scouted that area but historically, and traditionally, it had been an excellent choice for opening day. Mistake. The wet heavy snow, continuing to fall through the morning, weighed branches yet covered with leaves down and bent saplings to the ground. The shooting lanes carefully cleared in advance of branches, yea, the smallest twig that might deflect the most accurate arrow, were now practically nonexistent. It is the only stand I have that is set back in the woods so any other would have made a better choice. But there I was and was sure I would find some enjoyment.
There I was, I couldn’t imagine a more beautiful morning. As the dawn arrived, I began to see deer movement. First a fawn, then several doe. It’s still the first day. Wait for the buck. And without further delay, hot on the trail of these doe was the most magnificent buck. It would be a buck of a lifetime if all went well. Don’t look at the horns. Concentrate on shooting form. Check your yardage. Remember to issue a grunt to stop the deer before you shoot. Steady. Aim. Pick your spot. All of my pre-season preparation appeared to be falling in to place. And then the alarm clock went off!
Trudging through the 5 inches of snow, I went to the South Park tree stand location. Chosen because of the North winds. I would be upwind from the approach deer normally take to this stand in the morning. 25 Yards inside the woods, edged by a food plot of buckwheat, seemed like a good idea on the way. I had not scouted that area but historically, and traditionally, it had been an excellent choice for opening day. Mistake. The wet heavy snow, continuing to fall through the morning, weighed branches yet covered with leaves down and bent saplings to the ground. The shooting lanes carefully cleared in advance of branches, yea, the smallest twig that might deflect the most accurate arrow, were now practically nonexistent. It is the only stand I have that is set back in the woods so any other would have made a better choice. But there I was and was sure I would find some enjoyment.
I did. I didn’t see a single white tail deer. There were no recent tracks in the snow within shooting range of the tree stand. Perhaps the deer have changed their patterns somewhat. But what happened next was a really neat experience.
As the sun began to warm the air, I began to hear a crescendo of bird song in the valley below. Louder and louder it became to the point of wonder and amazement. Most of the local migratory birds had left some time ago. I hadn’t seen a robin in several weeks. But suddenly, here they were. Hundreds upon hundreds, flocks of many kind, migrating to warmer climes but stopping here for a day. All descended upon our valley to partake on the bountiful crop of berries on the Autumn Olive and Honey Suckle bushes.
I believe somewhere in the French-Canadian provinces, there must be an Avian Migratory AAA trip ticket book that reads, “Biscuit Hollow, New York. Buffet libre. Vous pouvez manger tous.” Free buffet. All you can eat. They all apparently had seen it. Raucous flocks of robins, starlings, blue jays, cedar waxwings, crows, catbirds and cardinals. Clowns with black caps hung bottom side up from tree branches near my head. Sparrows, wrens, finches, flycatchers picking at the bottom of leaves nearby. Foreign interlopers I did not recognize. And throw in some downy and hairy woodpeckers and some nuthatches for good measure. I wished I had my bird book with me.
As the sun began to warm the air, I began to hear a crescendo of bird song in the valley below. Louder and louder it became to the point of wonder and amazement. Most of the local migratory birds had left some time ago. I hadn’t seen a robin in several weeks. But suddenly, here they were. Hundreds upon hundreds, flocks of many kind, migrating to warmer climes but stopping here for a day. All descended upon our valley to partake on the bountiful crop of berries on the Autumn Olive and Honey Suckle bushes.
I believe somewhere in the French-Canadian provinces, there must be an Avian Migratory AAA trip ticket book that reads, “Biscuit Hollow, New York. Buffet libre. Vous pouvez manger tous.” Free buffet. All you can eat. They all apparently had seen it. Raucous flocks of robins, starlings, blue jays, cedar waxwings, crows, catbirds and cardinals. Clowns with black caps hung bottom side up from tree branches near my head. Sparrows, wrens, finches, flycatchers picking at the bottom of leaves nearby. Foreign interlopers I did not recognize. And throw in some downy and hairy woodpeckers and some nuthatches for good measure. I wished I had my bird book with me.
Nary a deer. But a great time in the woods. I love deer season.
Book read: John Grisham, The Associate
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