The Change of a Season

Last week marked the end of the deer hunting season. To me it felt like it was too late in the game to be hunting, but my father-in-law had built a muzzleloader for me the year prior and I really wanted to harvest a deer with it, and so I went hunting.

Our primitive weapon season is the first couple of days of February. You can only hunt with traditional weapons such as sidelock muzzleloaders and recurve or long bows. No scopes or wheels and cams or other forms of modern technology are allowed, which makes it fun and allows you to step back in history just a little bit, except for the fact that they make you wear hunter orange, of all things.

This year was very similar to last year in that we had lots of snow in January and then, boom, it got warm and melted everything in the first couple of days of February. I hunted a little bit Saturday morning. The snow was knee deep, but there was a hint of spring in the air. By Monday morning everything had melted and refrozen into a crunchy crust. Not ideal for sneaking around in the woods. I saw some deer, but not close. I saw them bed about 300 yds away on a hillside. Mid morning came and I wasn't seeing anything. The crunchy crust was melted again and the bedded deer hadn't moved and so I thought I would attempt to stalk them. The wind was in my favor, but it was in open timber and I didn't think I'd be able to cover that much ground without being detected. I took my time and was thinking I was going to get within range when a deer I didn't see stood up about 90 yds away. I'm not practiced up at that distance with iron sights but I thought I'd take a crack, and sure enough, I missed. The shot had deer running everywhere. They had just been bedded and I hadn't seen them.

I watched the deer I had shot at work its way up over the ridge. I went and made sure it was a clean miss. It was, but I was surprised at all of the tracks. The warm sun, melting snow, deer tracks, all of it together must have triggered something in my brain. Shed season! My morning hunt was over. I thought I'd look for shed antlers on my way back to the truck and then head home and do some work. It was my lucky day and I stumbled upon a busted up antler that had recently been dropped. That really got me excited! It's one of my favorite things! Not only does it shout out , “SPRING IS HERE,” it marks the beginning of another season, or better yet, a new cycle of seasons. Shed hunting, turkey hunting, canoe trips, mushrooms and all that. It's not that I'm sick of deer hunting, it's just that I love the anticipation of what's to come. Looking for sheds is kinda like that too. You never know what you'll find, but it's exciting to look. Most people don't understand it. It reminds me of Jenelle or my mom when they are looking for a piece in a jigsaw puzzle. It seems so pointless, looking for those pieces, putting them together into a picture and then tearing it apart after you are finished. You can look for what seems like hours and not find anything. With sheds, you can look for days and go for miles without finding any, and then when you do, well you just start looking for another one. Once in a while you find a special one, but for the most part, they just end up in a pile in the corner of the basement. But while you are looking you discover so many neat things, like where the deer were hanging out all winter, or bear dens, or a remote flock of turkeys, ramps, old stone foundations, all kinds of things that people like me weird out on.

Tuesday morning was the last day of the hunt. I really wanted another deer for the freezer, but was ok if that didn't happen. I had glass to blow and so I planned to hunt until 9:00 AM, and then head home. I took my pack and was prepared to stay longer if I got something, but since I expected it to be a shorter hunt, I dressed lightly and figured by the time I got cold I'd be walking back out. I went to almost the same spot as the previous day but had dialed myself in a little closer to the trail the deer had used the morning before. The wind was blowing like crazy and it was drizzling rain. I tried to keep the lock of my gun covered with my jacket. Apparently I didn't because about a half an hour after daylight a big doe came along and stood broadside at about 35 yds. I aimed and squeezed on the set trigger which starts a chain reaction that is supposed to end up with a deer in the freezer. But it didn't quite work that way. The set trigger tripped the main trigger which allowed the hammer to fall. The flint on the hammer hit the frizzen, which not only opened the pan but showered sparks into the powder that was in the pan. There was a flash but no following bang. I guess that moisture had gotten into the hole where the spark is meant to ignite the main charge. All that to say the doe walked away unscathed. If you are unfamiliar with how a flintlock works, well at least now you know where the old saying, “just a flash in the pan” comes from.

I took a pin and dug around in the hole and made sure that I had a fresh charge of powder in the pan, and waited for the next deer to come by. I guess it didn't get the memo, because it never showed up. By 8:30 I was plenty cold and ready to call it a season. I would hunt my way back to the truck. I put on my pack and headed back. Just like Jenelle when she walks by a puzzle that isn't finished, I couldn't resist the temptation to wander and start looking for sheds. Wouldn't you know it, I found a set from a small eight point. One more antler would be nice and so I kept looking for more. I happened to look up from the ground in time to see a couple of deer running off. Shucks! I'm supposed to be looking for deer which aren't on the ground by my feet. I went back into hunting mode. And it paid off. I saw a doe slipping through the rhododendron. When she stopped broadside in an opening about 45 yds away, the chain reaction worked perfectly. Well, except for the part from where the deer fell, to where it ended up in the freezer. That was more of a process than a reaction. My phone said that I was 1.3 miles from the truck as a crow flies. I'm not a crow and I don't like dragging deer that far anymore. With our handy dandy phones these days, we can report our kill from the woods and after that we are free to butcher them on the spot. If I'm going to be back in a ways, I carry a knife and a little saw and game bags and a pack. That makes it a lot easier to get it out. You can take the meat and leave the hide and bones for the bears and coyotes.

I butchered the deer. Not wanting to make two trips, I loaded it all up in my pack. I had gotten one earlier in the year in the same area, but I was hunting with Blake. Splitting it up into two packs is definitely the way to go. This time it was just me. The pack felt heavy but fit well. It felt good walking out of there with a pack full of meat that I had taken with the flintlock.

When I got home, I weighed the pack, 63 lbs. Not a ton, but it sure felt heavy enough. Makes me wonder how I used to be able to pack an eighty pound canoe and a heavy pack on the portages between lakes, back in the day. 

Now that my mind has switched to canoe trips and summer, campfires and fish, I should probably wrap this up. Before you know it I'll be writing about Christmas. Oh well, it's just part of a cycle. I'm never sure what's coming next, but one thing is sure, it's exciting and I just have to say, “thank you God for the seasons”!