Fat Boy's Outdoors Apology and Blog Resurrection

Every year on this day, I think about my Brother, Kyle, who passed away in 2007.  I can't believe it was 13 years ago today that this tragic event happened.  And when I think about him, I think about why I started this blog in the first place, to dedicate and document my outdoor experiences and share what I've learned over the years.  

The last time that I posted was a year ago today.  I've been negligent about keeping this blog up to date, and for that, I apologize to my brother to those of you that follow my blog.  I also vow to regularly post and keep this blog up to date.  I appreciate the following and hope to keep it up, not for my sake, but to honor my brother.

So, with tears in my eyes, I'm going to move on and write this next post.  Kyle, if you're reading this from heaven, this is for you.

My outdoors experiences have evolved once again.  I have many new topics to cover.  Probably the biggest direction with my fishing has been targeting rockfish (a.k.a. striped bass or stripers) and other fish species in the Chesapeake Bay.  

Kyle loved fishing the Chesapeake Bay from my Dad's sailboat.  He mostly trolled surgical eels for bluefish.  He caught quite a few "slammers and choppers" off that boat.  Slammers are medium sized bluefish in the five to ten pound range, while choppers are bigger bluefish in the ten to fifteen pound range.  

Kyle loved fishing the Chesapeake Bay out of my Dad's sailboat.  The area around the Chesapeake Bay Bridge (pictured above) was his stomping ground.  The Chesapeake Bay has become one of my favorite fishing spots too.  (photo by Captain Steve Kelley)

While trolling for bluefish, Kyle would occasionally catch a nice rockfish.  Back then, all rockfish had to be released, because there was a moratorium on them.  Since then, the striped bass fishery has rebounded nicely, and they are once again, the most prevalent predator in the Bay.  Blues still show up, but not in the numbers found back in Kyle's day.  Kyle would have loved fishing the Bay for rockfish.

I promise to post more about fishing the Chesapeake Bay, my experiences and other topics surrounding fishing for stripers and other Bay species.  I've learned so much and have so much to share.  But, for this post, I'm going to keep it to a few pictures of some of the rockfish that I caught this year and dedicate those fish to Kyle.   

I'll post more on how I caught these fish among other adventures on the Bay in future posts.  I'll keep the blabbering to a minimum, so I'm going to stop here.  After all, a picture is worth a thousand words.

This was my biggest rockfish of 2020, a 41 inch fat brute of a striper, caught and released back in March.  It's not my personal best, but might be the fattest one that I've ever caught.  You can see my personal best pictured in a prior blog post about that day.

This is the same fish pictured above, a 41 inch rockfish.  This picture gives you a good idea of the girth of this fish.  Notice the large soft plastic lure used, a ten inch Bass Kandy Delight (BKD) on a 2 ounce jighead.  Big lures catch big fish!

We caught a good many keeper sized rockfish this year on topwater lures.  What a blast.  Kyle would have loved doing that.

Here's a nice rockfish that I jigged up using a skirted one ounce jig with a soft plastic fluke style lure. 

Here's another nice striper caught on a skirted jig/soft plastic combo.  I'll cover topics about jigging for rockfish with light tackle in future blog posts.

Another thick rockfish.  You can see why fishing for these can be addictive.  We caught quality fish like this throughout the year, but there is nothing like fishing for this species in the fall.

This was a summer time rockfish caught jigging bridge pilings.  As you can see, I've come to rely on sun protective clothing.  For fair skinned folks like me, these types of clothing are a must.

Catching fish like these are a blast on top.  I get pumped when I see schools of fish like this breaking.  Then, after tossing a topwater lure nearby and seeing fish like this blow up on it...what a thrill, let me tell you!

I owe a debt of gratitude to my good friend and fishing/hunting buddy, Steve Kelley (shown here with a nice rockfish that he jigged up), who put me on the fish pictured above.  In addition, I caught my personal best striper off of his boat.  Meet Captain Steve Kelley.  He's not a charter boat captain, but he's every bit as good as one...  I've mentioned him in past blog posts, but you'll read more about him in future blog posts.

A Special Day...

I want to take this time to say special kind of thanks and pay tribute to someone near and dear to me.  I'm thankful for many things from this person, and here is a very short list that are relevant to this blog.

As a bowhunter, scent control is very important.  Whitetail deer have a keen sense of smell that can detect odors that are strange to them from great distances, putting them on alert or worse, send them scurrying away tails up while ruining your hunt.  Being anal about scent control improves your odds and your hunting experience.  Wearing Scent Lok or similar gear, controlling your laundry and showering with scent free soaps and shampoos, spraying down your equipment with scent elimination products, are all keys to doing this.  My Brother Kyle taught me that.  Thank you Kyle.

Kyle consistently shot bucks like this with his bow.  I got him started in hunting at a young age, but it was he who taught me how to hunt, sharing his secrets for success.

Catching walleye has always been a cool thing as a bass angler.  Most over time I've caught while fishing for bass, as accidents and surprises.  Each one was a bonus.  Later in my angling life, someone taught me how to target them, when my odds were best, and what lures and techniques worked the best.  I was able to target them and catch these special fish consistently afterwards.  My Brother taught me that.  Thank you Kyle.

Kyle figured out how to catch walleye on a consistent basis, and caught some very nice ones.  He fished from shore and also from his kayak.  His determination to learn how to pattern them paid off, and it was he who taught me his secrets.  My friends and I benefit to this day from his research and success.

As a bowhunter, finding ideal locations to place your stand are critical to success.  I learned to use 3D on-line maps and GPS to find and locate ideal stand locations on properties that I hunt.  Since then, my odds have improved and I've bagged more whitetails.  My Brother taught me that.  Thank you Kyle.

Using suspending stick baits or jerk baits, like Husky Jerks and Rattlin' Rogues for walleye and smallmouth are deadly.  One technique that is extremely effective is to basically cast it out to a likely fish holding river eddy, crank it down a bit, and let it sit motionless with only the current moving it ever so slightly, and almost dead stick it.  Sometimes the bass, walleye or other predators just can't stand it any longer and hammer it, and usually these are bigger fish.  It's quite a thrill.  My Brother taught me that.  Thank you Kyle.

Jerkbaits like these Rattlin' Rogues are deadly when cast into a river eddy and dead sticked for big walleye and bass.  And I don't mean let 'em sit for a minute, I mean a lot longer.  And when you work them back, work them "painfully slow".  This is a very effective coldwater technique that my brother taught me years ago.

The same suspending jerk baits work extremely well for sea trout, flounder, bluefish and rockfish along our coast.  I learned that working these baits along rip rap eddies during tide changes would draw savage strikes from these tasty saltwater species, and put up quite a fight at the same time.  My Brother taught me that.  Thank you Kyle.

These are just a few things that I learned from my Little Brother.  He was a man that worked extremely hard to achieve high levels of success at everything he did, whether it was coaching a swim team, honing his hunting skills, fishing a river, saltwater body of water, or out of a kayak on a lake.  He passed away in 2007 at the young age of 36 years old, and I miss him greatly each and every day.  His story can be found linked as one of the pages on this site, a tribute to him.  But it's not enough, so here I am today wishing him thanks and a Happy Birthday.

At twelve years old, Kyle was catching fish, and learned to be extremely successful as he grew up in just about everything he did.  I may have given him his start in fishing, and inspired him to take up bowhunting later on, but it was Kyle that taught me a thing or two later in life.  And I greatly appreciate it and miss him every day.

Happy Birthday Kyle!

On the Scale - An Official Weigh In

Normally, I don't post much about myself.  This blog isn't about me, it's about my view of the outdoors, and what I can share with you.  But now, there's a turning point in my life.  My direction has changed, and below is the story why.  Perhaps what I'm going through can help you some day, however you decide to do it.

The name "Fat Boy" was originally coined by me as an internet user name, or handle, on one of the first web forums that I had the pleasure of joining, Iceshanty.com.  Why pick such a name?  I don't ride a Harley, but I do ice fish.  And a popular ice fishing jig at the time, and still today, is called a Fat Boy, by Systems Tackle.  At the time during ice season, I used them to ice many crappie, yellow perch, bluegills, largemouth bass and stocked rainbow trout from the hard waters of Maryland and Pennsylvania.  The name stuck, and I've been using it ever since on all my fishing forums amongst a few others.  Anyway, when I picked the name, it had nothing to do with my physique.  However, as time went by, my stature tended to resemble my user name more and more.


A few months ago, I dropped below 230, and felt much better.  I climbed down the bank to lip this bass, something that I couldn't have done even six months earlier.

Nine months ago I hated the way that I felt.  I let myself go since I got married twenty years earlier, and I had to either suffer the consequences or do something about it.  At one time during my marriage, I tried the Atkin's Diet and lost a bunch of weight and quickly, I might add.  I went from a fat 267 pounds down to 211, not quite my goal, but not too bad.  The 56 pounds came off in a matter of a few months.  Several deaths in my family took a toll on me mentally, and along with the added stress of that to an already stressful sedentary job forced a war within my mind, leading me to eat everything except perhaps my cat and family, and gained it all back and then some.  If it was edible and not nailed down, I ate it.  Originally, the purpose of the diet was to lose the weight, then change my lifestyle and keep it off.  Part one worked, part two never got underway.

As my lifestyle changed and weight piled on, I became more and more apathetic, especially towards fishing and hunting.  My friends drifted away, or perhaps I drifted away from them, to the point that the prospect of going on a fishing or hunting trip didn't much appeal to me any more.  And, with my brothers passing just over three years prior to my accident, hunting became a reminder of him.  It should have been a positive reminder, but it wasn't...I took it the other way and lost the desire to be in the woods.  He most definitely wouldn't have wanted that.

The Fat Boy ice fishing jig

Other factors contributed to my outdoors apathy.  I was coaching girls travel fastpitch softball as my daughter progressed through the sport.  That takes a lot of time. It did provide some measure of physical activity which may have kept me from becoming a shut in, but not enough to stay in any form of good physical condition.  The lifestyle may have contributed to the weight gain.  Travel players and parents are always on the go, away from home, and that often means eating out at odd hours.  More times than not, the food either isn't healthy or the portions are massive.  And, as an eat-a-holic, the massive restaurant portions appealed to me.

A few weeks prior, I was in an auto accident that was serious enough that it could have taken my life, but the good Lord and also wearing a seat belt saved me along with a well designed car.  I was lucky enough to escape with a few scratches, sore muscles, seat belt bruising, and a severly sprained ankle that bothers me to this day.  During my recovery and physical therapy, I decided that life is way too short.  Not only would losing weight assist in my recovery and aide in the healing process of my ankle, but that too could save my life.

My desire to improve my health also changed my attitude about the outdoors.  I craved to fish and hunt again.  I wanted desperately to reverse the couch potato trend and hit the outdoors as much as possible.  I started with my food intake again.  About the only advantage to having a pendulous paunch, is that you can tuck a napkin at a restaurant under it without worrying about the napkin dropping to the floor.  I was ready to trade that one advantage for a better life.

This spring, my first trip on my buddy's boat felt good to be back in the swing of things.  At this point in my diet, I had lost about 15 pounds.  There's a lot of pizza still in that mid section, and plenty of cheeseburgers in those chins.

The problems as an outdoorsman carrying a bunch of weight are many, in addition to daily life issues with weight.  The simple things, like tying my hunting boots, were a real chore.  It was embarrassing having to come up for air after bending over to tie a bootlace, only to go back down to tie the other one and rise up gasping for air again, as if I was drowning.  The other option was to tie both of them really fast and risk passing out from lack of oxygen with the veins in my forehead feeling like they were going to pop.

It's also embarrasing when I'd go on a fishing trip in the rain, and my bib overalls wouldn't zip up, leaving my belly hanging out unprotected from the cold and rain.  Thank goodness for the oversized waterproof insulated parkas to cover that embarassment up.  But, when temperatures warmed, I'd either sweat or have to expose the basketball that I'd swallowed to the public via fishing pictures on my camera.

Heaven forbid if I'm out fishing and drop a bullet weight on the ground.  I'd either pass out bending over or risk splitting my drawers in the field.  Nobody wants an unplanned  trap door at the seat of their coveralls or waders.  So, I'd just let whatever I dropped be, unless it was expensive, like a spinnerbait or a crankbait, and it was easy enough to see that I could find it quickly without running out of air.

And, consider shark tooth or fossil collecting problems.  As I increase in age, my eyesight declines, like many people.  My belly stuck out far enough that looking straight down, where things are easier for older eyes to see, impossible.  My effective range to view objects on the ground started at about a 45 degree angle out from my belly.  And, not only was it difficult to see artifacts on the ground, but still difficult to bend over and pick them up.  Finally, with regard to collecting, when wading places with blown down trees and the like, you have to navigate around or over them.  Often, I'd choose to go under, even if it meant getting wet, because lifting my massive body over those obstacles became nearly impossible.  I'm no weakling, having lifted and played college athletics in my younger days, but my weight gain exceeded my lifting ability as time went on and my muscles atrophied over the years.

And, don't even think about buying a new tree stand at a bargain price.  All of the ones on sale have maximum weight recommendations, including gear, and I exceeded all but a few of them...which, by the way, never go on sale.  I have two climbing stands that I use, and neither of them were rated for my ballooning weight.

Many tree stands have weight recommendations.  Now I don't exceed them, and I feel a lot more comfortable in them that I did a year ago.  And, it's easier to climb too!

I also avoided early ice fishing season.  Who would want to fish with me on the ice during such times?  Four inches of good solid clear ice is good for a small group as long as they aren't too close to each other, but if I weighed as much as a small group, I'd better have six inches under me.  That meant, you guessed it, that I'd pass up early fishing trips in the ice.  That's a great time to fish through the ice as the fish are still really actively feeding, and I was opting to wait for later ice when they became less active.

I won't be self conscious about pressure cracks being my fault on the ice any longer!

Trudging through snow, dragging my shanty and equipment, really became difficult too.  And while in my shanty, I had the same issue with dropping tackle, having to bend over to pick it up, even while sitting my my bass boat modified seat in my Fish Trap proved a real hassle to find what I dropped.  And, my belly blocked my view of fishing a hole near me or viewing my underwater camera.

Now, bending over to pick up this fish in my shanty won't result in me losing my breath, and I can more easily fish over the hole.

On the ice, one of the keys to success at jigging up panfish is to stay mobile.  You use your electronics and your auger to find fish, cutting lots of holes in a methodical calculated manner, searching logically for locations that you'd expect fish to be.  When I was heavy, it made me apathetic, lazy, and easy to stay in one spot, cozy and comfortable in my warm Fish Trap, not willing to move when the bite slowed.  Rather than fish several good holes, I'd stay on one good hole and wait for the fish to return rather than go find them.  This meant catching less fish than I used to because of my apathy.

From a health standpoint, my blood sugar and blood pressure were high, leading my doctors to think that I'd soon be on medication for type 2 diabetes, and more blood pressure pills to boot.  In addition, my back ached daily, and my feet would get sore on all day fishing trips, not to mention a lack of stamina to even climb the shortest set of stairs.

During my first run at losing weight, on the way down to 211 pounds, I walked fast, as fast as I could, everywhere.  This probably helped in my weight loss.  I'd make it my goal when walking in from the parking lot at work to pass as many people walking up hill as possible, at a brisk walking speed.  This past March, when I made the decision to change, my weight combined with my ankle injury, wouldn't let me pass people in canes or walkers (bless their hearts).  It became a viscious cycle...can't exercise, get depressed, eat more, gain more.

The only way I knew that I could lose weight was the low carb thing.  I've tried other diets, but couldn't stick to them for one reason or another.  Cutting portions didn't work either as I just didn't have the will power.  So, I opted for low carb again.  This time, the weight didn't fall off like the last time.  You see, on this diet, you're basically fooling your metabolism into thinking that you're starving, and it burns your body fat faster.  But, the next time that you try it, your metabolism isn't easily fooled, and it comes off a lot slower.

The first month, I nearly quit doing it, because it didn't seem to work.  Normally, on these diets, the "induction" phase lasts two weeks, and you drop about 10-20 pounds.  I was at five pounds...could have been only water weight.  But, I stuck to it anyway, and eventually saw improvement.  After induction, you add more and more carbs, but good carbs...from nature.  Limit or cut out potatoes, rice, beans, fruit, sweets and especially bread.  Doing that is difficult, especially since I LOVE to eat.

Prior to doing this diet thing, in my mind, the basic food groups were pizza, cake, soda, chips, and cheeseburgers.  And portion control really meant how much a paper plate could hold without collapsing.  I had a reason to celebrate and eat too, and those reasons came often in the form of office parties, family parties, my own personal solo parties, and holiday parties.  I was addicted to food.

Now that I'm back on my diet plan, and sticking to it, not ever cheating, things are starting to improve.  I didn't even have a piece of birthday cake at my birthday party!  I've lost 57 pounds and I'm now down to 215.  I have three goals, and I'm determined to reach all of them.  The first goal is to reach 211, now within reach, and I'm hoping that my metabolism will allow me to reach that goal within a couple weeks.  The 211 goal will tie the lightest that I've weighed since my marriage over 21 years ago.  After that, it's the 200 milestone.  I hope to reach that goal by the new year.  And my ultimate goal is to reach below 190, my playing weight when I played college baseball 32 years ago.  I know that I won't be in the same shape, but at least I can do more than when I started.  I won't stop until I reach that goal, no matter how long it takes.


Last month, I broke the 220 barrier.  At least now my weight alone didn't exceed the capacity of my buddy's Coleman Crawdad!

Already I am feeling the benefits of my weight loss.  Here are some of them:

1)     I can bend over and tie both boots and still breath, and take my time if I so choose. 
2)     My insulated rain gear bib overalls fit nicely, and actually zip up all the way without me having to lay on a bed and hold my breath to put them on. 
3)     I feel comfortable now in both of my tree stands.
4)     My hunting gear fits perfectly.  I can even get into some coveralls that I couldn't even zip up last season.
5)     My waders fit, and I can wear a jacket underneath without having to hold my breath to pull the waders over it.
6)     I can save money by not leaving inexpensive tackle items on the ground when I drop them, as I can now pick them up easily.
7)     I spend all day fishing without my back aching having to hold up that basketball belly.
8)     When fishing on my friends boats, I can carry 57 more pounds of tackle than before without adding more stress on their boat motors.  Or, put another way, carry the same amount of tackle as before allowing their boats to get on a plane much faster.
9)     When fossil collecting, I can actually see shark teeth at my feet.  Heck, I can see my feet!  I was wondering what the heck they looked like after all these years.  Man, are my toes ugly by the way.  The only drawback of that is that when I go to the beach, I can't rely on my belly shade to protect my feet from the sun.
10)     I can put my tree stand on smaller trees if I so choose, and not worry about the tree bending to the ground with me in it.
11)     When at the beach, people may no longer confuse me with a beluga.
12)     Health wise, seriously, my blood pressure is down, and so is my blood sugar, and I feel great.
13)     My clothing, from hunting and fishing and casual wear, to work apparel, fits much better.  I can button my shirt collar and wear a tie without my face turning red, or worse, blue.  And, when I bend over, I don't have to worry about a button shooting off and injuring my fishing pal.
14)     When ice fishing, pressure cracks happen all the time especially when ice is building, and when they do, I won't think that it's my fault any more!
15)     Finally, when taking fishing pictures, the fish will actually look bigger, or at least their true size, and, I won't need to use a wide angle lens for my fishing pictures.

Okay, so what about the future?  Will I go back to my old ways or stick to my plan?  Only time will tell.  But right now, I have no intention of going back.  This is a lifestyle change.  Moderation is the key, but so is continued will power.  I won't quit eating carbs, but I don't need three pizzas a week, by myself.  I can limit my intake to a couple slices, once in a LONG while.  I don't need two double quarter pounder with cheese supersize extra value meals along with a huge regular soda.  I can eat a normal size sandwich meal, with a regular order of fries, and a bottle of water.  I don't need ice cream or cake daily, or desert for that matter.  Instead, I'll opt for a fruit bowl and limit the intake of sweets for special occasions only.  I didn't quit drinking soda, but did quit drinking regular soda.  In addition, I limit my diet soda consumption to only a couple of them each week.  I drink a lot more water and zero carb sports drinks.

I don't want my blog or user name to represent my shape.  I'm tired of that, that part of me is over.  I'm feeling good and I want it that to continue for the rest of my life.  I'm enjoying my time outdoors again, and it's special.  There's nothing like it, whether it's being in a tree looking for that perfect shot at an ususpecting buck, or walking the bank of a terrific lake in search of lunker bass, or walking and wading a remote shoreline in search of that huge megalodon tooth.  The outdoors is life to me.

Well, let me restate that.  My family is life to me.  I want to be around, and be there, for my wife and daughter.  I owe it to them.  Along with that, the outdoors is life to me.

The Thirty Minute Eight Point Whitetail Buck

It was the Tuesday before thanksgiving, and with firearms season approaching in Maryland the following Saturday, I wanted to get in the woods with my bow for a shot at a rutting whitetail buck.  The previous day, I informed my boss that I wouldn't be at work the next day.  November is a busy time in my business, but I made sure that my schedule was clear and that all due dates were met or would easily be met.  When I take a day off to hunt, I want my mind to be free from the worries of work, so I can lose myself and be at peace with the woods.

I really enjoy bowhunting for many reasons.  Obviously, it's a challenge.  Scouting, stand placement, preparation, and shooting accuracy are all things that need to fall into place prior to your hunt which contribute to the success of a good bow hunt.  But most of all, I enjoy blending in with nature, having creatures do their thing as if I'm not even there.  I once had a Carolina wren land on my nocked arrow while in a tree stand.  It's common for grey squirrels to climb trees that your sitting in. On another occasion when I first took up bowhunting, while hunting on the ground, seated in a folding stool, I had a groundhog actually walk between my legs.  But the best aspect of blending in is obviously to be invisible in every way to the quarry that you seek, and in my case, it's whitetail deer.

Prior to bow season, if I'm hunting an unfamilar area, I scout the property seeking out potential hot spots.  Hot spots to me include areas of much deer activity, plenty of sign, and obviously a good tree for my tree stand.  You may need to find multiple spots that would be best given the time of day you'll be hunting.  Some locations are better morning spots, others are better in the evening, and some work all day long.  I also look for areas that may be hot spots later in the season.  You have to imagine what deer would be doing in the future.  For example, areas that intercept deer on their travel routes to and from bedding and feeding areas can be hot.  Stands close or in bedding areas can be hot morning spots if you get in the woods early enough.  Likewise, stands near feeding areas are productive in the late afternoon hunts.

Of course, scouting never stops for me.  I'm always looking for a better spot.  Sometimes, it may not be obvious based on deer sign.  It could be simply a place where you've spotted deer repeatedly, almost predictably.  Many of my successful hunts were spots where I remembered kicking out deer while either scouting or hunting in the past.  Often, places like those are bedding areas.

The previous night, it rained pretty hard.  I expected the woods to be quiet despite the fact that almost all of the leaves had fallen.  On days like that, usually you can often sneak into the woods quietly, and I had a spot in mind that I knew was a bedding area.  I've hunted this spot before in years past, and had yet to see a deer before nine in the morning.  This particular plot of land is on public property.  In my state, it's illegal to hang or build permanent stands or leave temporary ones in the woods unattended.  So, I have to get in the woods early enough to set up my portable tree stand and climb.  I was very optimistic that I could get to this area before the deer arrived and be undetected.  The problem with this spot is that they feed fairly close by, so when the leaves are dry and crunchy, it's impossible to sneak in and get close enough to hang your stand.

I awoke knowing that I took plenty of pre-hunt preparation to be scent free.  If  you're going to blend in as a bow hunter, it takes more than just camo clothing to be successful at it.  You can't smell like a skunk and be noisy, and properly preparing yourself includes being clean and scent free.  As illustrated in previous posts, I take a shower with scent free soap and shampoo.  I wash my clothes in scent free detergent and store them in plastic bags.  I wear scent free hunters deodorant, and brush my teeth with baking soda.  When I get to my spot, I don an outer layer from head to toe with Scent-Lok clothing.  And finally, I spray my equipment and boots with scent eliminator spray.

When I arrived to the hunting property, I had about a half mile walk to the spot that I had scouted back in August.  Because of the rains the previous night, figuring the forest floor would be quiet, I planned my arrival right before first light.  Often, when you can see where you're going and sneak in without a flashlight, and the woods is quiet, you can set up before the deer return to their bedding area.  The added light actually gives you visibility to more effectively sneak, a few steps at a time, watching to avoid stepping on and snapping sticks, and watching for movement ahead.  My tree was right smack in a place where they like to bed, about two hundred yards from the edge of a field, which during this year grew a crop of soy beans.

This property has trails intersecting the land that are popular with the horseback riding community.  The ground was still damp from the previous nights rain, at least on the horse trail that I was walking on.  The horse trail meanders beside a medium sized freestone stream that has a good population of wild brown trout, some of them that are real brutes.  I followed the horse trail until I arrived to the section of woods, passing a small pond along the way.  My spot is about half way up the side of a hill, along side a stand of pine trees.  I don't leave reflective pins along the horse trail to find my spot so that others don't catch my spot.  Instead, I remember natural landmarks to clue me as to when I should cut into the woods.  I leave on reflective pin in my tree, that's all, and it's far enough away from the trail that a passing flashlight won't see it.

Everything seemed right until I took four steps off the horse trail, and the leaves were still crunchy.  Two more steps, crunch, crunch, and the woods erupted.   White tails danced away in all directions about two hundred yards away, with snorts sounding from all directions.  I was busted.  I was dejected.  The woods weren't as quiet as I had hoped, and the crunchy leaves were like an alarm to the deer feeding in the distance.  I was so ticked off that I didn't even feel like hunting any more, so I left.  I know, I should have just moved and set up somewhere else, but I wasn't thinking rationally at the time.  I let me emotions get to me.

Upon my arrival back home, I took a nap then woke up around lunch time and, while eating lunch, started watching a movie that was on TV.  It was one of my favorite movies, Barbarosa, with Willie Nelson and Gary Busey, about two outlaw legends that resemble 1800's Robin Hood types except that they're a bit greedier.  Half way through the movie, I thought to myself, "Kevin, what the heck are you doing?  You dummy, you have a day off to hunt and you're wasting it on television?  What are you thinking?"

By that time it was about 2:30 PM, and if I hurried, I could be back in the woods in time to salvage my day.  I had another spot in mind that I found earlier in the season, like a bench along a hill side hidden by another stand of pine trees on one side, and another small rise in the hill, with a ravine on the other side, all well away from the horse trail.  It was a nice funnel, where I imagined deer using the ravine like a road, right to my tree.  I threw my Scent-Lok outer layers in the dryer to activate the carbone lining, and quickly jumped in the shower.  Twenty minutes elapsed and I was finally ready.  I had to hurry as I still had a half hour drive to the propery.

I arrived at the property at about 3:40 PM, and still had a twenty minute hike to my tree.  I followed the horse trail up and down several hills, along the river to my left.  Normally, if I have time, there are a couple spots along the river that I like to take a peek at the big brown trout that live in there.  And also, normally, I'll really take my time to be as quiet as possible even on the horse trail.  But on this afternoon, I didn't have time.  I had to hurry.

When I reached the point where I had to leave the horse trail, I really slowed my pace down.  I didn't want to make too much noise, and the sun came out earlier today and along with the wind, really dried things out.  The leaves were really crunchy.  I was careful not to crack sticks, and eventually made my way to my tree.  The time on my watch said 4:00 PM and I still had to set my stand up and climb the tree.

Back then, I used a stand up sit down type of climbing tree, called the Old Man tree stand.  It has a large platform and, at that time, innovative rubber coated heavy wire bands to attache the stand to the tree.  It's easy and fast to set up, and I had it on the tree ready to climb in less that a few minutes.  I attached my backpack and bow to my pull line (a cord used to pull your stuff up into a tree), crawled into my stand, attached my safety harness, and began to climb.

A few minutes later, at 4:10 PM and I was twenty feet up in my tree.  I attached my gear hook, a hanger that I can strap around the tree, kind of a hook with a belt that attaches to the tree.  I use that to hang my gear, like my backpack.  The tree had a huge pine tree behind it, providing a great background to prevent deer from looking up and seeing my silhouette highlighted against the sky.  I had great shooting lanes to my left at about ten o'clock, straight ahead, and at two o'clock toward the ravine.  I pulled up my backpack and bow, and hung both of them on the hanger.

I was in the process of getting my Scent-Lok gloves and head cover out, when I heard something moving through the crunchy forest floor coming from behind me from on top of the hill.  Wouldn't you know it?  This deer was moving down the steepest part of the hill right toward me, about fifty yards away and closing.  It was a nice eight point buck, not huge, but nice.  For me, that was a shooter.  The only problem was, my bow and gear were hanging on the tree over my right shoulder, and the deer was heading right to me at walking pace, just above eye level to my stand.

How was I going to get a shot when I didn't even have my gear and bow in hand?  Every time the buck went behind a tree in this mature woodland forest, I made a move, one at a time, to get my stuff.  First, I unzipped my bag, then after the next tree, I grabbed my release.  Then, strapped it to my wrist as the deer moved behind another tree.  Then, when the deer moved behind a large oak about thirty yards away, it stopped, now eye level with me.

I was able to grab my bow and quickly nock an arrow.  The buck moved again, still unaware of my presence.  There was one more large tree about twenty yards away from me before the deer would reach my first shooting lane, and that was my last chance to position my body for a shot and draw.  The buck moved a bit quicker than I had hoped, and even though my body was now in a position to shoot, I hadn't drawn, and the deer was already in my shooting lane, about fifteen yards away.

The buck worked its way out of that lane and stopped behind a medium sized oak, which perfectly hid me from its vision.  I drew back my bow, and waited for the deer to move out from the tree.  If the buck took two more steps, then I'd have a small window for a shot if the deer would stop, otherwise, I'd have to wait for it to pass through a thicket and into the next shooting lane.  As you know, they don't always do what you want, and I didn't want to risk that buck changing direction.  I had to take a shot.

I drew back my Matthews Z-Max bow, and waited for what seemed like an eternity.  I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold my 70 pound draw without shaking before having to let off.  But the buck stepped out from the tree and stopped, just in time, giving me a quartering away twelve yard shot with a window between the oak and saplings about three feet wide.  I placed my pin on where I thought it's heart would be, and gently squeezed the trigger on my release.  My arrow flew true, and struck the buck with what looked like a well placed shot.  The buck didn't even flinch.  It acted like nothing happened.

Huh?  I heard the sound of the arrow striking the deer.  Did I miss?  I thought for sure that I hit that buck right where my sight pin was zeroed in on its heart.  The deer walked away in the ravine with it's nose down, as if still looking for acorns, and then moved around the corner, and out of site.  I heard a big thud, and, in my mind, knew that was my buck falling down.

Still, my mind raced as I worried about missing.  I couldn't have missed.  I knew it was a good shot, but now I'm confused, and a bit neurotic.  I wanted to climb down so badly to check my arrow.  But, experience taught me to be patient, to wait at least thirty minutes before tracking my game.  I looked at my watch, 4:25 PM.  I hadn't been in my tree for fifteen minutes and I had a shot.  I almost felt ripped off, not being able to blend in and see all the birds, squirrels and other wildlife that normally pass by.  I like that relaxation, the wait, the anticipation, and then the excitement.  This was anything but that.  It was frantic, it was exciting.  So, at the same time, I was pumped.  Adrenaline flowed through my veins and was telling me to get down.

I checked my watch, thinking that time was ticking away in my favor.  4:30 PM.  Oh my gosh!  I can't wait up here!!!!!  I tried to just calm down and rest a bit.  I closed my eyes, trying to relax, and all I heard was rustling leaves in the distance.  Was that my buck trying to get up?  Or, was it those pesky squirrels chasing each other in a nut gathering competition.  It was the latter, but my neurosis kept telling me otherwise.

4:40 PM.  I couldn't stand it any longer.  Maybe I could just climb down and get my arrow.  After all, it couldn't be that far away.  Then, I could get my orange tape out and begin to mark the blood trail, not track the deer mind you, but just get the trail marked.  So, I gathered my gear up, lowered my bow and backpack, and climbed down.

Now on the ground, I was still worried about kicking out my buck, but decided to at least prepare for the track.  I wanted to see my arrow, to confirm the hit, and get an idea how much longer to wait.  I took a little time to get my knife, my orange tape, and get my bone saw out of my backpack.  I put on my backpack, grabbed my bow, and nocked an arrow, and was ready for tracking my deer. 

To track a deer shot with an arrow, you need something to mark your trail.  I use orange tape.  Just make sure that when you're done tracking that you go back and gather up your tape to prevent littering the woods.  I always carry enough water in my backpack to drink, but it also comes in handy when you dress out your deer.

I moved to where the deer was when I took my shot, and looked beyond that spot a bit, and there was my arrow a few yards away.  I picked it up and it was soaked with bright red blood, a good sign that it was a good shot.  I found spot of blood and the blood trail within seconds, and tied a piece of orange tape to a tree to mark the beginning of the trail.  I moved a few feet, another spot.  Then a few feet more, and a few bigger spots.  Then, the spots grew and became more frequent.  I was now at the beginning of the ravine, and the blood trail took a right turn.  As I looked into the ravine, it looked as if the woods was painted red, and thirty yards away, there was my buck.  It was almost five o'clock now, and daylight was just about over.  I had a lot of work to do, and about a half mile drag back to my truck.  I tagged my deer and dressed out my buck and dragged it back, taking nearly and hour to get it out of the woods.

I couldn't believe that had just happened.  I blew my morning hunt.  Then, I almost gave up and became a couch potato.  Then hurried into an afternoon hunt and, within thirty minutes of getting to my spot, shot a decent eight point buck.  I learned a valuable lesson that day, and that was to not give up when you know it's prime time for bowhunting.  Get off the couch and get into the woods!!!!!!

Note:  Picture of this buck forthcoming...

Sometimes It Pays to be Lucky!

Again, this story takes place in Ohio.  The timing was several years after my missed opportunity.  I had dreams about that buck, that spot, that hunt.  On this particular trip, the logistics didn't fare well for us.  We had three days to hunt, and we had a late start heading out from Maryland to Ohio.  It was kind of a last second affair.  A couple weeks prior, I prodded my buddy Bob about heading West to "hump the hills" again.  My persistance paid off, and he agreed to go albeit at the last minute.  But, we both couldn't get off work early as we had in the past, and I hadn't yet purchased a license.  With a multi-hour road trip ahead of us, and a late eleven o'clock PM start, we were looking at an arrival of about 4 AM in his home town. 

My best hope to obtain a license for the morning hunt the next day was to stop at the local Wally World, and if traffic was OK, maybe...just maybe...get a couple hours of shut eye before climbing the hills behind his house.  With the late start, heading back to the "bowl" wasn't an option.  I'd be the only one up, so I was on my own.  The best spot for me to bag a nice buck was to head behind his house and scamper up and down a couple steep hills to get away from everyone in a world where big antlered whitetails felt more comfortable.  That was my plan, anyway.

After purching my license, we arrived at his Mom's house at nearly five AM.  I was dog tired to say the least, but at that time, I still had the plan to climb the next morning.  We unpacked his truck and I organized my gear for the next morning.  I double checked and triple checked my backpack and my possibles bag to make sure that everything that I needed for modern muzzleloading was in order.  My gun was clean and oiled, and I had a new upgrade to prevent the problem that I had a few years prior.  I replaced the nipple to accept shotgun primers.  No longer would I have to worry about having enough fire reaching my charge as long as I kept my gun clean, and clean it was. 

My treestand was in order, with all of the straps in place, fitted, and checked for strengh and safety.  My safety harness was laid out in a way that all I had to do was to slip it on and buckle up without trying to figure out how to put it on.  My Scent-Lok outerwear clothing was outside in a plastic bag, cleaned with scent free laundry detergent while back in Maryland days before the trip.  My scent free toiletries were at the ready.  And my backpack had everything that I needed for an all day hunt.  My plan, to sit again all day in a tree. 

Now I was ready for bed.  Gary's new puppie dog wouldn't leave me alone, and I was sleeping on the couch downstairs in the rec-room.  I wasn't sure if it would let me sleep.  I set my alarm, laid back with the dog licking my face for what seemed an eternity (probably less than five minutes), and tried to dream about what might happen the next day.

I dreamt about getting ready.  What was my to do list?  I'd have to make sure to not forget anything.  I only had about an hour to get some shut eye, and I'm stressing about getting ready after waking up.  I dreamt about climbing that tall hill, stopping every so often to keep from sweating too much.  The weather forecast was for warmer temperatures over the weekend, maybe reaching eighty degrees Fahrenheit.  I had to carry my outerwear parka with me up the hill, hoist it up with my stuff into my tree stand, and dress in the stand.  That was the plan anyway. 

I stressed a bit about finding a good tree to climb.  I'd been up there a few times and hunted off the ground.  I seemed to remember some nice trees, but when you're short on time, those may be hard to find in the dark.  After all, how many times have you found what you thought to be a good tree, climbed up, only to find too many branches from neighboring trees blocking your view, or while trying to reach your ideal climbing height, only to find a branch that you didn't see blocking your stand.  I carry a saw for such times, but still, it makes noise and wastes time.  Ideally, I'd prefer to arrive the evening before, get into the woods and set my stand for the next day, but, on this trip, the timing wasn't right.  I had a hard time falling asleep.  Worries about being ready, about being organized, about forgetting something, and about anything else you could worry about seemed to collide with pre-REM patterned visions about those massive bucks of the past walking right up to me.  Talk about luck!  Would I have that again?

Just as it seemed that I reached REM sleep mode, my alarm went off.  I struggled to find the off switch, hoping to not wake anyone in the house.  Bob had planned to play golf later that morning and hunt the afternoon.  Gary wasn't into waking that early, so it was just me...and the puppy!  That little dog just wouldn't leave me alone.  At 5:30 AM, it wanted to play, of course!  I took my shower and became as scent free as possible, but that puppy did everything it could do to prevent that from happening short of marking me as his territory!  I couldn't wait to get outside to at least get a scent free outlayer over me!

After getting ready and gathering my gear, I looked down at the stand, thought of humping the hill with daylight fast approaching, and wondered just how late I'd be getting up in a tree in a good spot.  I had a forty minute trek ahead of me, with just about that amount of time before first light.  I had to adapt my plan.  I was really tired, so the thought of climbing those hills didn't appeal to me, and neither did climbing a tree or hauling that stand up the hill either.  I was just too tired...dog tired, if you will!

So, I had a backup plan.  I had permission to hunt the neighbor's land just across the road.  It was an old logging road just across the creek, that ran parallel to the creek, with steep cliffs on one side creating an awesome funnel.  The only drawback is that a lot of folks hunt there, and they all walk that road.  After all, it's level and easy.  A few years prior, I shot a doe there while walking back from a morning hunt.  That's a future intersesting story to be told later, but forgive me if I don't follow chronologically.  I figured I'd bag me another doe.  That was my back up plan, and as tired as I was, it was a good one. 

So, I set off to hunt off the ground this time, and I was going to settle for putting some meat in the freezer, which is actually always the goal.  To me, there's nothing better than some grilled venison tenderloins or back straps, seasoned with a little Montreal Steak Seasoning along side some onions and green peppers.  And let me tell you, venison sausage, bologna, ground venison, and roasts for my chili are simply delicious.  Over the years, I've found some great recipes shared by other hunters, found on the internet, of just plain made up on the fly.  My friend Perry from Alabama taught me the merits of lime juice on venison, seasoned lightly with salt, pepper, and fresh garlic, especially when smoked over some hickory.  Talk about tasty!  It's not about the rack, it's about food, pleasing my palate, and pleasing the palates of others.  After I have my meat, it's about the rack, and more meat!  I'm a carnivore to the nth degree, no doubt, and venison tops the list to occupy space on my grill or in my crock pot.

Daylight was approaching as walked over the old green steel bridge that crossed the wide meandering deep creek that eventually would find its way into the mighty Ohio River.  I turned left on the logging road.  Tracks and ruts from ATVs and four wheel drive trucks were full of water from recent rains.  I had to step around them and muddy areas about every twenty feet or so to avoid having muddy slippery boots and also that slurping sound while walking through mud and muck.  While approaching a hunting spot, being quiet is as important as being scent free.  The spot where the does moved through a couple years prior was a small break in the cliff, a door to the low land along the creek, where they could escape hunters moving through the crop fields above the cliff.  It was a funnel along a funnel.  I found that spot about three hundred yards down the road, turned right away from the creek, and quietly found a place against the cliffs that seemed like a comfortable place to sit.  I had reasonable shooting lanes for being on the ground, and was out of sight from the logging road.  All I had to do was sit and wait, and hopefully not fall asleep.

Daylight was upon me quickly.  My senses were keen, honing in on the squirrels frolicking around me, tormenting me with their chatter as they chased each other for territorial rights to the acorns littering the woodland ground.  A pileated woodpecker landed along a deadfall and presumably fed on grubs, beetles, and other insects.  What a beautiful bird, reminding me of the cartoon character that I watched as a kid on TV, Woody Woodpecker.  At about eight in the morning, the sun was a bit brighter, and not much was happening as I fought the urge to close my eyes.  Just ten minutes sleep, I thought, but I resisted.  A fox trotted by but spotted me instantly even though I was extremely still.  That wasn't good for my confidence.

Two more hours went by and the temperatures were climbing.  The sun bore down through a hole in the canopy of trees above and shone down on my like a spotlight on a stage comedian.  With my outer Scent-Lok layer, I was downright hot.  I began to sweat and I wasn't even doing anything.  I watched some cows moving through the brushy creek shoreline on the other side, thinking about a good breakfast at Bob's house.  Gary probably was cooking up some bacon and I could almost smell it from there.  I closed my eyes briefly to enjoy my imaginary bacon.  Just then, I heard a snap.

My eyes popped open so fast I could swear that I startled a bright red cardinal from the brushy cover next to me.  Off to my left, I heard something coming, heading my way, following the path that I took.  I might get my doe after all!  But no, through the brush I could see what looked like a decent rack bobbing back and forth.  It was a buck!  I had never seen a buck in this area, but they had to be there.  Just about every sapling around me was stripped of bark where one or more bucks may have marked their territory with glands at the base of their antlers as they rubbed the trees.  I didn't know it in the morning darkness, but there was a line of buck rubs leading right to me!  And this buck was following them.  I raised my gun in anticipation of where he'd show himself.

He appeared from the brush about twenty yards away and I was sure that he'd see me just like that fox did earlier.  But, he didn't.  He actually turned toward the cliff, maybe to feed on the briars around me, giving me a nice broad side shot.  I squeezed the trigger and the gun went off.  Fire shot out of my Remington blackpowder rifle and a thick cloud of smoke filled the air.  I saw the buck drop right there.  I couldn't believe it!  A back up plan, my plan to bag a doe, resulted in a very nice buck!  I was so happy!  And, I didn't have to drag it very far.  In fact, I could drag him all the way to Bob's house! 

Another nice Ohio buck, shot at my back up "bag me a doe" spot!

It took me a while, but just as I arrived with my buck, Bob was returning from his round of golf!  Gary gave me a hard time, saying that I shot his buck.  Later, he bragged about driving the buck to me earlier in the morning.  He cracks me up.  Regardless, the buck was mine!

This buck was a pleasant surprise, totally unexpected, and I didn't have to climb multiple Southeast Ohio type hills to find a decent buck!

Lesson Learned?  Solve equipment problems during the off season for future success.  In this case, my gun was much more reliable after I upgraded to using shotgun primers.  Another lesson?  No matter how tired you are, sleeping in and not being in the woods won't bag a buck.  You have to be in the woods, but do it safely.



Here's my buck after being mounted.  Tim and Christy Martin do
 some of the best work that I've ever seen.  I highly recommend them.
Not only are they professionals, and they're good, but they are also
some of the nicest people that you'd ever want to meet.  Visit their
website at http://martinstaxidermy.homestead.com/Index.html
and make sure that you check out their beautiful photo galleries!



Missed Opportunity and Lesson Learned

 A following year after I shot my biggest buck, I headed West with Bob again to his home town in Ohio.  Big bucks with massive multipointed racks filled my brain with mental images of my upcoming hunt during the entire drive.  In fact, they'd dominated my memory bank since I arrived home the previous year.  I relived that half hour so many times that the image of that buck in my neocortex seemed like a computer image burned into a monitor when a screen saver isn't used.  It was etched in my memory forever. 

The Weather Channel predicted weather conditions similar to the previous year.  The called for temperatures in the low 80s for the entire weekend.  It was a bit balmy for December in Southeast Ohio.  We left Friday night after work hoping to arrive at his family's place around midnight.  His brother Gary would surely be waiting up for us as he did the previous two years ready to give us a hunters welcome.  Once we arrived, we exchanged greetings, unpacked the truck, and headed off to bed to get some rest for our hunt the next morning.  I was so pumped that I had a hard time falling asleep as I mapped out my plan in my head for the next day.  After a couple hours I finally nodded off.

We awoke early in the morning to prepare for our hunt.  Once again, I began my ritual attempt at becoming scent free.  I showered with scent free soap and scent free shampoo.  After drying off with my towel that I washed with scent free shampoo, I brushed my teeth with baking soda.  Then, I applied a thin layer of scent free deodorant to help block scent creating bacteria from forming and ruining my hunt.  I dressed in Scent-Lok under garments and my other clothing that I washed along with my towel at home prior to the trip with scent free laundry detergent.  Yeah, I'm still anal about that.  I just don't want to be detected in the woods, and the nose Odocoileus virginianus is it's best defense. 

Whitetail deer have the ability to detect scents that humans can't from a hundred yards away or more.  I didn't want to take the chance of getting "busted".  After that, I took my clothes outside the house and dressed.  Finally, I sprayed my equipment and boots with Scent Killer scent eliminator spray.  I took every precaution even though I always to set my hunt up with the wind in my favor and the deer upwind of me.  My outer Scent-Lok layer was safely tucked away in a heavy duty plastic bag.  I had planned to fully dress after we arrived at our hunting spot.

Our plan was to head back to his Uncles land where I got my buck last year.  My personal plan was, you guessed it, to sit in the same exact tree.  It was a bit foggy and humid at about five o'clock in the morning with temperatures in the fifties.  The fog seemed to darken the morning sky even more.  I worried that finding my tree might be more difficult than my dreams of this return trip.  I guess I was a bit nervous!

We arrived at his Uncle's property about 15 minutes later.  The smell of coffee permeated Bob's truck.  After exiting the truck, I pulled out my scent lock parka and coveralls from the safety of the plastic bag, carefully dressed well away from any human smells that might find their way in my direction.  I loaded my backpack on my treestand and hoisted the combination over my shoulder and onto my back.  My backpack was heavier this year.  I had my shooting supplies, scent bombs, Scent Killer, various grunt calls, rattling antlers, hoist, safety harness, several water bottles and my lunch.  My plan was to stay in my stand all day long, similar to last years plan.  I let Bob and Gary know that I wasn't coming out until after sunset.  I picked up my gun and slung it over my shoulder.  After shaking hands and wishing the guys luck, I headed off to my special spot.

I climbed the hill passing Bob's Uncle's hunting stand.  Bob's Uncle carefully built that stand using 2X4's and plywood, then painting it with Army green.  It resembled a ranger lookout tower or some sort of observation stand.  He built it several years prior to my first trip, and it was still in great shape, looking super sturdy and near new condition.  The massive twenty foot stand stood at the junction of two logging roads and overlooked the pond below.  I remember my first trip to that location.  On the first day of that trip, I climbed that stand and sat in it for a little while.  It was roomy and comfortable at the top, but it seemed a bit open to me.  I almost felt like I was in plain view up there.  I prefer some background as to not show any silhouette that may give away even the slightest movement.

After a right turn I carefully walked up and down the hills of the leaf strewn logging road.  Fortunately, the fog was thick and the morning dew dampened the sound of my footsteps on the leaves.  A couple more rolling hills and I'd find the old rusty car.  I wasn't sure what the make of that car was, perhaps it was a '48 Chevy coupe?  I'm not an expert on old cars by any means, but it was too weathered and rusted for me to identify.  Maybe the moonshiners ditched the car here during a daring escape from the "revenuers".  I mentally slapped myself back into hunting mode.  My goal was my tree stand.  I didn't have time to study an old rusty car.  I wanted another trophy buck and I still had a lot to do.

I was now walking through the woods past the car, trying to walk silently with the goal of not cracking sticks.  We left earlier this morning than last year, so I had plenty of time to get to my tree quietly.  After cracking a stick, I'd stand motionless for about 15 seconds before moving on.  The temptation to just say "Heck with it" and barrel through the woods is always looming.  Even after cracking a stick or twig, you're better off taking even more time than to storm through the woods to your spot.  After a few minutes I easily found my tree.  I still had plenty of time.  I found some spots to hang my home made scent bombs, small camera film bottles with safety pins bent into hooks, stuffed with cotton laced with the mighty Tinks #69 Doe in Rut Buck Lure placed strategically around my tree at eye level.  The goal with these was two fold, to attract bucks and if they did show up, to get them to stop for a shot.  I wasn't bow hunting but I treat all my hunts like I am. It's just my way.  It's fun for me.

I quietly set up my Old Man tree stand, organized my gear for the climb, donned my safety harness, and climbed my tree.  I climbed up about 20 feet or so, adjusted my seat, and braced my stand against the tree.  I sat down for a quick breather to not only relax a little bit, but also to keep as cool as possible.  It was warm and muggy for a December afternoon, but since I was working my way to my spot and didn't have to hurry, I didn't feel all that sweaty.  I hauled up my backpack, pulled out my accessory hook, attached it to the tree and hung my back pack.  It would be out of my way over my right shoulder.  I quickly took a drink of water and placed the bottle back in my pack. 

After that, I pulled up my Remington black powder rifle, with my pull rope hooking it as to keep the muzzle pointed down, unloaded of course.  After raising my trusty true rifle, I relaxed in my tree waiting for first light, and took my nipple pick and cleared the nipple.  I dropped two black powder pellets down the bore of my gun, followed by a patch and sabot.  I carefully seated the charge with my ramrod, placed a percussion cap on the nipple, removed the lens caps from my scope, and patiently awaited first light.

First light seemed late as the morning fog filled the gullies in the bowl shaped ridge below me.  Over and over I visualized another buck following a doe up the gullies toward my stand as had happened the previous year.  What are the chances it would happen again?  I had my doubts.  Maybe I was just lucky last year.  Yet, I had that feeling that this spot was special.  This time, the morning dew kept the squirrels silent.  Every now and then I'd catch some movement off to one side through the corner of my eye and notice the squirrels, doing their thing, quietly this time hoarding acorns for the winter. 

Around nine o'clock in the morning, I saw a critter prancing through the fog, stopping at a couple fallen trees seemingly to check for food.  The critter, a red fox, trotted out of the fog and headed down the path that my buck followed last year, made a sharp left turn, and headed right under my stand.  It stopped at the base of my tree to sniff around as if detecting my activity from setting up my stand and placing my scent bombs.  I didn't worry too much about that because I believe that is one mammal nose that nobody can fool.  Or, maybe they're just plain smart.  Just then, it looked up in my direction without actually seeing me, turned, and trotted off through the thicket to my right up the hill.

Another hour went by.  Ten o'clock in the morning now.  Another five minutes and last year would be repeated.  Fifteen minutes went by and nothing.  Nothing was moving now.  My hopes for a repeat performance seemed dashed.  Yet, I was committed to spend the entire day in my stand.  I rose and turned to get a drink out of my backpack to replenish valuable fluids.  After a nice drink, I returned the bottle to my pack, adjusted my seat, and eased back down to continue my hunt.  I thought about taking a quick cat nap and closed my eyes.  My hearing seemed to be more acute after a few minutes with my eyes closed as I could hear squirrels rustling in the leaves behind me.  My mind started to wander into a dream when the squawk of a crow startled me into an alert state.  I seemed refreshed even though I probably only had my eyes closed for a few minutes.

I sat for awhile while hardly moving.  It was now eleven o'clock.  The fog had lifted now and the sun was shining bright above me.  I felt warm and began to sweat.   I was just about ready to break for lunch when I caught some movement down below in the main gully at the bottom of the bowl, probably about 200 yards away.  I saw what looked like sappling branches waving from left to right when I realized that my eyes were playing tricks on me.  It wasn't sapplings that I saw, it was a rack.  A big, big, massive, "holy crap" type of rack!  My jaw dropped when I noticed that the rack of this buck looked like the bigger twin of the one that I shot the year prior!  As the deer moved up the hill toward me, I could see the mass of the antler base of this buck being much thicker than my buck.  The deer didn't follow the trail that last year's buck and doe took, rather, it headed up the ravine straight toward my tree and slightly to the left.  If it stopped near me I'd have a clean shot.  I had hoped that my scent bombs would do the job.

The deer moved quickly up the hill as I readied my rifle and picked up his massive body in my shotgun scope.  I trained the scope on his torso as he stopped and gave me a 25 yard broadside. Through the scope I could see a 5" drop tine drooping from the main beam of his left antler.  Wow, he was beautiful.  My heart raced but my arms remained steady as I placed the scope on what should be a perfect heart shot.  I kept me breathing slow and steady as I eased the trigger with my finger and fired.  There was a short loud snapping sound, then nothing.  Oh no!  The cap fired but my main charge did not!  What a time for a misfire!  That had never happened to me before with this gun.  I sighted it in a month earlier and thoroughly cleaned it.  The deer just stood there searching entirely the other direction in search of the strange sound.  It still didn't know that I was there behind him even though he was far enough up the hill to be at eye level with me. 

My shooting supplies were in my backpack, sabots, percussion caps, nipple pick, cap applicator, powder, and patch. I had to reach completely around me to get my gear, clear the nipple place another cap on the nipple before the buck could notice me if I had a chance.  It still stood there as I slowly and carefully reached around and unzipped the main compartment of my backpack.  All the shooting stuff that I needed was in my "possibles" bag in my pack.  I felt for the possibles bag and easily found it, then lifted it out carefully and turned back around.  The deer was beginning to move slowly up the hill away from me looking for the source of the strange sound that it heard only moments before, scanning the top of the ridge away from me.  I quietly and slowly unzipped the possibles bag and pulled out the supplies.  I pulled out the nipple pick and cleared the way for the fire of a percussion cap.  The deer had moved again and now was about 100 yards away from me but again cautiously stopped looking for danger ahead.  I was almost ready. 

All I had left to do was to simply place a new percussion cap on the nipple.  But, I made a critical mistake.  I dropped my percussion cap applicator out of the tree and there it sat 20' below me.  My possibles bag was now on my seat behind me, still unzipped, so I reached in and pulled out a little can that contained my percussion caps and found one while at the same time dropping a few out of the tree.  I had one in my fingers and placed it awkwardly over the nipple and finally, after flailing for about two minutes, seated the cap on the nipple with my index finger.  I was ready.  I turned to look for the deer and it was still standing there about 120 yards away and I raised my gun.  Just then it trotted off over the ridge.  I needed about two more seconds.  I was heart broken.  I couldn't believe what just happened.

What did happen?  I don't know to this day.  Maybe it was the moist humid air.  Maybe there was just a little corrosion in the nipple.  I sat in my stand shaking my head.  Then, a few minutes later I couldn't believe my eyes but another buck, this time a nice eight pointer, was heading up the same trail.  It wasn't the monster that I just missed, but I thought that it was a nice consolation deer.  But, it stopped behind some huge oak trees and then turned around and went back down the gully from whence it came just hidden enough from me so I couldn't squeeze off a shot.  That was the last deer that I saw that weekend.  I was dejected.  But, looking back, that was one of the most memorable hunts that I ever had.  I had a chance at a real monster of a buck.  Maybe it's luck, like my bad luck, that was the reason he was the monster buck that he was.  Maybe I'll see him next time.  I'll never forget him.  Wow.

After my day was over, I cleared my gun by firing it and everything seemed OK as I shot and a big cloud of black smoke trailed a long flame from the bore of my rifle.  After returning to the truck to meet my buddies they said they heard me shoot and wondered where my deer was.  I reminded them that I shot to clear my gun, not to shoot at a deer after legal daylight ended and then proceeded to tell them my tale of woe.  They consoled me in my state of hunting grief.  I needed that.  They chastised me for not using a shotgun.  I just took it.

Oh yeah, lesson learned?  I since always make sure to have my possibles bag within easy reach at all times.  More importantly, I tossed away the nipple and percussion caps, and replaced them with a nipple that accepts #209 shotgun primers.  Since then I've been shooting with the shot gun primers and, MAN, what a difference they make!  Never again when using my in-line blackpowder would I have a misfire like that, humidity or not.  I couldn't wait until the next season.  I want revenge on that buck.

My Biggest Buck

Several years ago I traveled West to Southeast Ohio for deer gun season with my friend Bob to hunt private property belonging to his family and friends.  Bob grew up in the area that we hunted and talked about "humpin' the hills" to get far away from people in search of some tasty venison.  I wouldn't call them mountains, but there were plenty of very steep hills.  Cutting through the hills was a deep winding creek, a tributary of the nearby Ohio River that most certainly would hold largemouth and smallmouth bass.  Along the flood plain and tucked between the hills were farms for animals and various crops.  These deer ate well and had plenty of room to roam and cover to hide in.  On this particular trip it was my second time hunting this part of Ohio. 

The previous year, I walked the logging roads of his Uncle's property in search of a good spot on my last day of that trip.  I hadn't seen a deer in two days.  I found a spot with an old rusty car along one of the logging roads.  I imagined that car being a relic from the moonshine days.  The mystery in my mind about that car intrigued me.  With something like that in the middle of the woods in the middle of nowhere, it had to be a sign.  In addition, the natural shape of the ridge and hills around that car seemed like the perfect funnel. 

That afternoon, the snow started to fall with temperatures in the lower thirties.  It was dead quiet as I searched for a place to sit.  I just knew that I'd see some deer.  I felt it.  It was mid afternoon, about three o'clock.  I sat along the edge of a ridge on a stump that seemed like it overlooked  a big bowl.  The bowl consisted of a ridge that was C shaped with a series of gullies that cut deep down the hillside that converged into one nice ravine that veered to the right out of sight behind the right side of the bowl.

From my right side, I caught a glimpse of movement, then a lot of movement.  I was sitting on that stump with my shotgun on my hip as I counted 29 deer walk from my right to my left in front of me.  Some of them were as close as 10 yards away as they passed in front of me, down wind!  None of them saw or smelled me as I sat motionless.  It was my first year wearing Scent-Lok clothing.  I was now a believer.  I passed on shooting any of the does because with that many deer moving through, I was absolutely certain that a buck would follow some time later.  I could have shot from the hip (not that I would have) and taken any one of those does, but that's not what I was after and I didn't want to ruin a chance at a buck.  But it wasn't meant to be that year.  The buck never showed.  That's how that trip ended, no deer shot, no buck seen, and two empty tags.  Bob ribbed me all the way back to Maryland for not "popping one of them does".  This isn't the story that I wanted to relate, rather, it sets the stage for the next season, and story about my biggest buck.

I visualized that bowl and how to hunt it for an entire year.  As we left Maryland and headed for Ohio, I daydreamed about sitting in a tree overlooking that bowl.  The old rusty car with it's mystique left an image in my mind that seemed like a totem to the herds of deer that pass by.  I was up all night the night before we left for Ohio packing my hunting gear and clothing making sure that I didn't forget anything.  I had a check list that seemed two pages long, all checked off.  I purchased one tag this time.  I figured if I got a deer the first two days then I could go back and purchase another tag.  I was ready.

Bob's hunting style is a bit different than mine.  He likes to sneak, then sit, then sneak, then sit a while, then sneak again, then sit and so on.  His brother Gary, who lives in Ohio with his Mom, likes to hunt on the ground too.  He also moves around quite a bit.  This time, I had my Old Man climbing treestand and a new toy, a Remington in-line blackpowder rifle.  I literally had a blast sighting it in near my home a couple weeks prior to the trip and was eager to go "pop one of them does", as Bob would like to say.  My style is much different.  As a bowhunter, I like to get in early, blend in, don't stink, try not to move, stay there all day, and most of all be quiet.

That day, the weather was quite balmy for the first week in December.  When we approached the property it was dark and foggy and the temperature was already 70 degrees an hour before first light.  I packed my Scent-Lok coveralls in my back pack and tied the parka around my waist.  My Scent-Lok clothing was charged and scent free.  I had scent free boots and my clothing was washed in scent free hunters laundry detergent.  About two hours earlier I had showered using scent free hunters soap and shampoo, and applied a thick coat of hunters scent free deodorant to my normally stinky arm pits. By the way, when I'm at home all I have to do to get some extra elbow room on the couch is to spread my arms out and lay them on the back of the couch.  The wife and daughter always give way.  After cleaning up scent free, I proceeded brushed my teeth with baking soda.  I was confident, like the previous year, that deer wouldn't bust me because of my scent. I love to bowhunt and in my opinion, my success depends on me not being seen or smelled by deer.  I'm anal about that.  I keep my hunting clothes in a thick plastic bag. Sometimes I shove a few handfulls of dry leaves in the bag a day or two before my hunt.  Even when I hunt with my gun, I want the deer to come close to me. 

I don't crave the 200 yard shot, I want 40 yards or less if I can.  Why?  I guess it's the challenge.  I just like to see them on top of me, to blend in, and get off a shot that I know will put that animal down humanely.  Bob and Gary aren't quite as concious about scent as I am.  Although now they understand that it pays off and currently practice being as scent free as they can.  They both had confidence in their shotguns that the added range over a bow makes up for them not being so scent free.  They bag their share of deer every year and are not necessarily in it for the rack.  They're content with bagging a doe or two and harvesting the meat first, then look for the rack if one comes along.  Normally, I will take a doe if the opportunity presents itself because, quite frankly, venison tenderloin is God's tasty gift to me and I simply relish it.  But, when I'm in Ohio, I'm thinking big buck.  I can get my share of does at home. 

I loaded my backpack on my treestand and with a straining grunt hoisted it over and onto my back.  I picked up my Remington blackpowder rifle, slung it over my shoulder and was ready to go.  The three of us shook hands and wished each other luck, and off we went into the foggy dark morning going our separate ways.  I told them that I wasn't coming out for lunch and had planned to be in my stand all day.

As I walked the logging trails, I tried to keep from stepping on sticks and I also avoided dry leaves as best I could.  When I arrived at the old rusty car, I crept quietly to the right corner of the bowl shaped hill.  I was determined to find a tree suitable for climbing in that corner because it gave me the best cover and view of the entire bowl.  It had several shooting lanes.  After about 20 minutes, I found a fairly good tree that would work OK.  It wasn't quite as big as I would have liked and not quite as straight either.  But, it was the best one that my tree stand would fit on given the time that I had to get ready before first light.  Most of the other trees were either way too small, way too big, or bent.  I quietly set up my tree stand and climbed. 

By now it was already light.  I was late.  I was bummed because I'm never late.  I'd much rather be in my tree an hour early in the dark. I double checked my safety harness.  Then, I removed my blaze orange vest and put on my Scent-Lok parka, and after that put my blaze orange vest back on.  I pulled up my backpack that had all of my blackpowder supplies as well as food and drink because I was there for the day...at least that was the plan.  It also contained some medicine for headaches and such, some deer calls, attracting scents, my binoculars, a small first aid kit, and a gun cleaning field kit that I put together at home.  After getting settled in the stand, I used my other pull rope to pull up my unloaded gun for my final hunt preparation.

I sat in my treestand about twenty feet above the ground and readied my rifle.  The top of the ridge and the old rusty car were now at eye level to me but at my back.  The sun rose to my right and would be behind me later in the afternoon, perfect position if deer come from below.  First, I cleared the nipple of any possible debris with my nipple pick.  Then, I dropped two blackpowder pellets down the bore followed by a patch and my sabot style slug designed for blackpowder in-line rifles.  Next, I inserted the ramrod into the rifle bore and pushed the bullet and patch firmly down to seat my charge.  You don't want to pump the rod up and down and bang the charge like you see in the movies.  Next, I removed the lens caps from my shotgun scope.  Then, I placed a percussion cap on the nipple and I was ready to go.  Off to my left I heard what sounded like thirty or more noisy turkeys leaving their roost, clucking and almost gobbling - though not like you hear in the spring.  I saw them briefly through my binoculars as they moved away from me.  My anticipation and excitement grew exponentially.

The temperatures climbed as the morning went on.  I was already sweating bullets from all the effort of getting to my spot and into my tree no matter how careful I was to avoid that.  And, remember, I'm anal about my scent in the woods, so by now I'm feeling like a big giant Fat Boy of a skunk.  After two hours in the tree I was still sweating as the temperature climbed above 80 degrees.  I still hadn't seen a deer.  Was I too late?  Did I kick them out?  Am I in the right tree?  Did they bust me because of my sweaty smelly underarms?  I was sure my Scent-Lok couldn't keep me scent free by now.  Could it?

Every squirrel seemed to be behind me out of sight, rustling the leaves and scampering about as if to taunt me.  I knew they were squirrels and I didn't want to move to blow my cover by turning around.  Still, I kept wondering if deer were in range behind me.  Yet, I sat motionless, waiting, sweating, only occasionally lifting my binoculars ever so slowly to scan the trees below.  For over two hours now, nothing.  I wondered if I should stay, maybe climb down, take a short nap and then eat some lunch, or just bag it entirely and meet up with the boys for lunch.  I always hated hunting in the heat.  Bugs and mosquitos were buzzing me.  I couldn't believe this was December.

Around ten o'clock, my confidence was waning.  Should I get down and relocate?  I kept looking at a few trees that seemed to be a bit bigger, a bit straighter, and maybe in a better spot.  I was hot, cranky, getting hungry, and getting sleepy.  It was difficult to maintain focus.  But, I stayed motionless and watched for movement.  I try to put my eyes in wide angle lens mode.  I don't know how else to describe it, but I'm not focusing on detail.  Rather, I'm watching for general movement, any movement, and hopefully some white of a tail or flicker of an ear.  I thought to myself that I'd stick it out until at least 10:30 a.m. and then make a decision on what to do next.  I wasn't sure that sitting in the heat covered in hunting apparel was going to be productive.  Over and over I had to convince myself to stay in the friggin' tree all day.

About five minutes later I noticed some movement down in the bowl, moving up the main gully.  It was a doe, then another, then several more.  They seemed to fan out in my direction as they maneuvered through the different gullies below and up the bowl shaped hill.  My attitude changed entirely.  I went from doubting my resolve to stay in the tree to being in supreme predator mode.  I felt like a crouched mountain lion in a tree ready to pounce on my unsuspecting prey.  Then, I caught a glimpse of something else moving up the hill.  I saw a set of bright shiny antlers bobbing up and down heading up the hill on the heels of a doe.  I could hear it grunting repeatedly in excitement.  Holy Smoke was it big!  The doe and what looked like a massive buck were heading up the left gully moving up the hill from straight ahead of me towards the top of the hill to my left.  They were about 100 yards away.  I tracked them through my scope waiting for them to move into one of my planned shooting lanes, but they were moving fast.  I had to make a decision to fire in about three seconds and then my opportunity would be lost. 

All of a sudden, the doe decided to turn left and headed right to me bringing the buck with her.  I didn't notice it before, but she was walking a deer trail that was poised to take her and her buck right under my tree!  It was my shooting lane!  To my amazement, the buck followed grunting the entire time.  I no longer worried about that long shot.  Instead, I worried a little about the does that were now surrounded my tree stand, that they'd spot me moving for a shot and blow my cover.  The doe was now 30 yards away and moving closer by the second along the deer trail.  The buck had its head down and trailed the doe about 20 yards behind with his massive neck supporting a fine set of antlers, and still grunting. 

My heart was thumping in my chest and I could feel the pulse in my temples.  My breathing increased rapidly.  I was sure that one of those deer around me would hear the cadence of my breathing.  The doe passed right under my stand and the buck followed, drawing closer.  I had a bead on him now.  He was going to be mine, I thought, now get a good shot and don't ruin that cape!!!!  The massive buck stopped about eight yards away to sniff at something on the ground nearly under my stand.  It may have been the smell from my boots, or the doe, I'm not sure.  Either way it didn't matter now, it wasn't alarmed and I was ready to pull the trigger.  For crying out loud this buck was in bow range! 

The good Lord put that buck in the most perfect position for me to shoot and I took advantage of it, gently squeezing the trigger.  The cap fired first and in less than a tenth of a second later the main charge fired.  The sound of the shot echoed in the bowl.  Flames shot out of the barrel followed by a cloud of thick smoke that filled the air around me.  The big buck dropped and kicked a few times with it's hind legs for a very short while.  It seemed like forever though, and my instincts told me to reload.  My excitement played tricks with my mind as I feared that he wasn't dead and would get right back up.  But logically, in the back of my mind I knew he was down for good.  In less than 10 seconds he was still and lay there with his rack beaming in the sunlight looking to me like the holy grail had appeared before me. 

Does snorted at me while they bounded away as their fluffy white tails danced back and forth in retreat up over the ridge.  It was all I could do to keep from falling out of my tree from excitement.  Good thing I had my safety harness on!  I climbed down and picked up the rack and counted the points...13 with a ticker.  It was a non-typical with two points extending back from the brow tines toward the rear of the animal.  Weird, but cool.  I laughed out loud and laid back on it like a pillow, oblivious to possible tick infestation, and gazed at the sky.  I sighed in relief and thanked God for this wonderful day.

This is the head and cape of the biggest buck of my life. 
What a thrill.

Now it was time to get to work.  It was nearly eleven a.m. and I dressed out the deer.  My Scent-Lok had that dressed deer smell now but I didn't care any more.  I figured that if the smell ruined the suit it was worth bagging the big buck.  I could always save my money and buy a new Scent-Lok suit.  I gathered up my gun and gear and left the stand on the tree. 

I could purchase a bonus tag that I could use for a doe the next day if I wanted to.  It nearly took all of my energy to drag my massive buck up the hill, past the old rusty car and to the logging road while the antlers caught just about every sappling in between. I heaved and lurched the deer along and eventually reached the logging road.  I had about three quarters of a mile of hilly logging road ahead of me to drag that massive deer with temperatures in the 80's. 

I luckily still had a bottle of water left.  I knew that if I could get that deer to the main logging road, Bob could get his truck up there.  It seemed like I had to rest about every 20 yards and catch my breath.  My hair and clothing were drenched with sweat.  Around 1 p.m., I finally reached the main trail and saw Gary sitting there about 40 yards away.  They had already gone home, eaten lunch and returned for the afternoon hunt.  I walked up and told him that I shot a big buck.  Of course, he laughed and he called me a liar, but at the same time curious that I was truthful.  I took him back to where I left the buck and his jaw dropped.  He blurted out, "Holy crap" as I lifted up the head and rack.

We both left the deer and my gear there and tried to find Bob.  We found him along one of the logging roads and told him what happened.  He was extremely excited for me but at the same time jokingly yelling phrases at me (that exceed my PG rating for this blog) and saying that I shot his deer.  Bob went to retrieve the truck and drove it up to the top of the trail.  When he saw the deer he said it was the biggest buck that he, his friends, or anyone in has family had shot on their property to date.  He punched me in the arm for shooting the deer that eluded him all these years, then we hoisted the deer into the bed of the truck.

Here is the mount of my Ohio buck, thanks
to Martin's Taxidermy in Boonsboro, MD.

That afternoon we took the buck to the check in station.  It dressed out at 204 pounds.  To this day it's still the biggest buck that I've harvested.  He now is on my wall downstairs.  My only regret was that I didn't have a camera while in the woods to take a field shot of my trophy.  I learned my lesson from that.  I always carry a digital camera now.

The mount of my deer was done by Martin's Taxidermy of Boonsboro, Maryland.  Tim and Christy Martin have done several of my brother's deer.  I have some friends that also took their bucks and other game to them and all of those projects turned out to be fantastic mounts.  They've done two of my deer too.  They do outstanding work and have won all kinds of awards.  Not only are they some of the best in their field, they are down to earth and just plain nice people.  For those of you within a days drive of Maryland, if you're looking for some great work on your trophy, you can reach them via their website:  http://martinstaxidermy.homestead.com/

Please check back on this page in the future as I have several interesting and funny hunting stories to post here.  Next, the bigger Ohio buck that got away.  Not all stories have that fairy tale ending!