Look for bucks in hard to hunt spots

This big buck was photographed in a very small thicket.

The hunter who pays attention to deer movements will soon find some out-of-the-way spots where big bucks like to lay up. Some of those locations are easily hunted and some are not.

Some of these out-of-the-way spots are found while hunting other game species. Some of the little hidey-holes where bucks hole up are so small that one wonders if there is enough cover for a cottontail rabbit to hide.

Take it from me: it doesn't take much cover to hide a big whitetail buck. Keep that thought in mind.

Some of my friends hunt in widely scattered locations. Many also hunt upland game birds, cottontail rabbits and snowshoe hares, wild turkeys and other game. The observant ones find hard-to-hunt buck hideaways far more often than people who hunt only one place. Always take note where a big buck is seen & where he goes.

A friend pays attention to such things, and as he walked past an overgrown apple orchard after a hard rain, he spotted a big deer track going over the fence. He'd tried to get his pointer to work into it in search of birds, and the dog refused to go.

Being a patient gent, he walked his pooch around the orchard, and found the way the buck left that orchard. He also noticed that the tracks went past a big pine tree. Two days later he scaled that tree in the late afternoon after putting the dog in the truck kennel, and took his bow with him. Thirty minutes before the end of shooting time a buck that grossed 152 points jumped the fence and walked past his tree.

He's no stranger to seeing big bucks. This one passed the tree at 22 yards, and my friend shot him. It is still his largest buck, but it points out the reasons why hunters should be more attentive to deer sign.

Another guy was out chasing ruffed grouse, and walked past a sumac patch on top of a hill with a good view in all directions. The man stopped to re-tie his boot laces, and was 20 feet from the sumac patch, and out busted a big buck. He was laying up there because most people walked past the sumac without stopping, thinking the cover was much too sparse to hold a deer.

A friend tells the story of hunting ringneck pheasants near a river, many years ago. He was hunting along its edge. A rooster flushed wild at 30 yards ahead of the dog, and he swung and winged the bird.

It caught its balance in mid-air, cocked its wings and soared part-way across the river and landed on a tiny island of marsh grass and a few stunted trees. He checked the water depth, and it was only shin deep, and he crossed. His dog caught some scent, pointed, and as he approached the dog, a big buck jumped up and bolted across the river. He watched the buck splash across, crisscrossed the tiny island, and kicked up a pheasant and downed the bird.

He kept that oddball sighting in mind, and once the firearm deer season opened, he and a friend waded across to the island. One went to the upstream end while the other walked through, and sure enough, they jumped the buck and killed it with one shot.

Talk to some farmers, and they all have tales of bucks laying up in tall weeds along their line fences or next to a barn. They push deer out of swampy little tangles perhaps 20 feet across. These bucks hold in such tiny bits of cover because few people think to look there.

The thing is that bow hunters can dare to be different. They don't have to follow a stated doctrine that everyone throws at them. They can walk through an area so small that it takes less than 10 seconds to get through, and often they find the home of a big trophy buck that no one knows about.

Cattail marshes hold bucks, and I remember a nice buck that a friend shot as it came out of the cattails. He knew that buck was there, and when he shot it, the buck wheeled and dove back into the cattails and died there. Cover can’t be too thick for bucks.

Don't stick with the status quo this year when the bow season opens. Check things out. Know where the tiny patches of heavy cover are in your hunting area, look for those little nooks and crannies, and try to figure where a buck will come from or go to when leaving. That information is knowledge you can put to good use this fall.

Try it this year. It may produce a nice buck that you've probably overlooked for years.

Returning to an old, favorite steelhead stream

A nice steelhead for the Old Man. One is enough for me these days.

 

Decades ago, there was a place on the Little Manistee River that was almost like home. It had many shallow gravel bars where steelhead spawned, and rather than charging off elsewhere, my son David and I chose to returned to my hotspot from the late 1960s.

"If that's where you want to fish," I'm happy to tag along. "Show me a place you haven't showed me before." He and I had fished a good many spots but there were a bunch he had yet to see.

So I did, and it was like going back in time. And he fell in love with it just as I did 45 years ago. No, sorry, but I'm not revealing its exact location although I can get you fairly close.

Taking a big step back in time brought us to the Little Manistee River.

 

The river, between the 9 Mile and 6 Mile bridge, was running low, fast and clear that day as we stepped into the river. Strongly felt was the old familiar tightening of water pressure against my legs as we began wading slowly upstream in hopes of finding a leftover steelhead or two.

We poked along slowly, easing into the current, checking out gravel bars for the dish-shaped white overturned gravel from the fanning of a hen steelhead's tail. The bed is slightly upstream from the white gravel at the tail-end of the bed. Some people wonder why these beds are white, and the quick and easy answer is this gravel has been turned over as a hen digs her spawning redd.

David, much younger than the old man, has speed to burn. I nodded for him to charge off in his personal quest for a lively steelhead while I walked slowly, stopped often, and looked for the near-invisible shadow of a fresh hen or the darker and blockier shape of a male.

I covered 200 yards, and stood motionless, looking near a fallen log that had toppled into the river. My vision, at best, is poor but I know what to look for and quickly found it.

First came the dark shadowy shape of a male holding in slightly deeper water along the edge of the redd. The water was four feet deep here, and I studied it for 10 minutes. The trick is to locate both fish before starting to cast to them.

I just fish for male steelhead. Hooking a female can ruin the fishing.

 

Make a mistake at this point, and hook the female, and she is gone and the males will vanish with her. I studied the bed, both sides of it, and finally found her holding next to a log 10 feet downstream from the redd. The female was bright silver in the sunshine, and she was very close to being invisible. At first I couldn't see her, but then I spotted her shadow, and then she became instantly visible. It's a matter of knowing what to look for, and any skill at spotting these fish comes from many years of experience.

She was in an impossible spot to fish, even if I was stupid enough to try for her. The male held alongside the redd, and in a perfect location. My line was lengthened, and reading the current speed and depth gave me the ideal spot to cast. My orange yarn fly drifted downstream along bottom, and the fish moved away from it.

The fly was lifted out, cast again, and again the male moved aside and allowed the fly to drift past. Time after time I cast, and each time the male slid away, but he was becoming agitated, and on the 20th or 30th cast, he grabbed the fly and the hook was pounded home.

That fish ripped off on a downstream run, ran past the hen, went between two fallen logs, and wheeled in midstream, splashed out of the water in a corkscrewing jump, and ran back upstream. He took 10 yards of line upstream from me, rolled on the surface, and headed back down and turned. He bulldozed into a submerged brush pile in front of me, and in less than a second tangled my line and broke off.

I moved back up to shore, sat down, tied on another orange yarn fly, and rested the spot. It took 30 minutes before the hen moved back into her holding position, and 15 minutes later, the male reappeared. This time there was something different: an orange yarn fly was firmly embedded in the corner of his mouth.

Hooking and losing a nice buck steelhead was exciting.

 

It took at least an hour for both fish to settle down, and I admired the day and the scenic beauty of this portion of the river. It seemed a great day to be alive. Upstream, I heard David talking to himself as a fish splashed. He was into a steelhead, and was telling the world about it.

My male with the lip decoration lay beside the female, and she let loose a jet of yellow eggs as both fish rolled on their sides, mouth agape, and he fertilized the eggs. I got a good look at the hen, and she was flat-bellied and had successfully spawned.

She headed into a log jam and disappeared from sight. She would now rest, and I had no problem casting again to the solitary male. This time he was more eager, and grabbed the orange fly on the second drift but he'd learned his previous lesson well. He darted into the brush, twisted around, and the hook pulled free.

Minutes later David came back downstream. He had landed a nice male and released it, and said he had covered over a mile of river and saw just those two fish.

Was it a perfect day? The weather was wonderful though a bit windy, and we each found a male fish to cast to. David hooked and landed his and released the big 12-pound buck, and I hooked and lost the same fish twice. Did  we have a good time?

The answer was an emphatic "yes!" We fished several other areas that day, and never saw another steelhead. But, finding two males and hooking both of them, was just part of a perfect day. Fishing a spot I hadn't fished in 30 years was a bonus, and it was nice to know that fish still hold in the same locations as they did more than 40 years ago.

David will soon be in Alaska running his fishing boat, and I'm here and lacking company. Perhaps I'll return to that spot, but it's more likely I'll try another spot I haven't fished in years. Going it alone doesn't bother me, and sometimes I count myself lucky to still be able to fish for steelhead.

I'll soon be 72 years old, but fly fishing is much like shooting pool. Once you learn how, it only takes a bit of practice to become proficient. I'll never be as good at this type of fishing I was 40 years ago, but that's just fine. One fish is enough to make me fall in love with steelhead all over again.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Hunting gobblers will teach a hunter how to sit still

A decoy can help divert some attention away from a caller.

 

My preaching about sitting still without making noise has become a mantra. Some people might think I keep repeating myself, but this is a most important thing for hunters to keep in mind.

Perhaps I do natter on a bit about it but there is a very good reason for my tedious repetition. If some folks aren't reminded, they tend to forget this very important part of hunting.

Move at the wrong time, and a deer has you pegged. If you are very lucky the deer will run off without blowing and snorting or spooking every deer within hearing.

Sitting still is second nature to me but not to many deer and turkey hunters.

 

The same thing holds true with making any noise. Click an arrow against the bow, or have brass cartridges rattling around in your pocket, and it's enough to send whitetails bolting for cover a half-mile away. It's just their nature to be jumpy.

Some people believe that because they are in an elevated stand or inside a ground coop that they are well concealed. That's not true. They may be somewhat concealed but movement or sounds are seen or heard.

Anyone who really wants to get an education on sitting without making a movement or noise should practice on wild turkeys. These birds seem to have X-ray vision, and their ability to hear sounds is second to none.

Some friends hunt turkeys with a bow. They are accustomed to sitting still in a deer blind, and it is second nature for them to sit still while turkey hunting.

I've often watched other people hunt birds, and almost all of them wind up spooking the gobbler long before Ol' Longbeard strolls within 100 yards. Think of it this way: all wild animals have the ability to tell almost precisely where a call they hear is coming from. It's almost uncanny how they determine a sense of place where a call originated.

Even a bull moose can pinpoint the position of a call.

 

Use a deer call on a whitetail passing 100 yards away, and if that buck comes, he will come to within 10 feet of where the call came from. If deer can do that, if moose or elk can do that, so can a turkey.

That bird may come fast or slow, but he will be coming directly to the hunter's location if possible. Some may try to circle a bit but they head straight for the call. So what happens when the bird is 100 yards away, and you decide to reposition yourself for a shot at the wrong time?

The gobbler will have you spotted in a heartbeat. There is an old adage about hunting gobblers that goes: If you can see the gobbler, the gobbler can see you. If a move is necessary, do so when his head is behind a big tree. Don't get caught when he is out in the open.

Cheating on a gobbler involves waiting until the bird goes behind a thick bush or a big tree. If a move must be made, make if fast, smooth and without noise ... and when the bird cannot see you. Never attempt any type of move if a bird is within 35 yards.

Eliminate all movement by being properly positioned for a shot at all times.

 

OK, if the bird is coming directly to your call, all you need to do is line up on the bird's head. You do have the shotgun stock to your shoulder and the fore-end braced on the palm of your hand and resting on your knees, don't you? It's like having the bow in your hand, the other hand on the release, and being back at full draw and waiting for the shot.

Success at turkey hunting means being prepared, doing everything right, and sitting still. A moving hunter or one that makes a noise other than that made by a hen turkey will probably scare off the bird. Once a turkey is spooked, he's not coming back for a visit any time soon.

That same analogy applies equally well to deer hunting. The sportsman that can't set still for an incoming turkey won't be able to sit still when the buck of a lifetime approaches his stand.

It's great training for those hunters who drew a spring turkey permit. If you didn't draw one, don't practice your sitting still exercises when other people may be in the woods. There is little sense in ruining someone else's hunt.

If you want a top-end experience of learning what and what not to do when game approaches. hunt gobblers. Make one mistake, and you'll have learned your first lesson, which should never be repeated.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Heavy snow hits the gobbler woods

Gobblers often head for bird feeders following a spring snowstorm.

I knew last night that my chances of seeing any turkeys to photograph today would probably be a gigantic waste of time. The forecast called for heavy snow, and at midnight last evening it was a near-blizzard.

The idea of going out today in the heavy wind, and sitting in eight inches of very wet snow didn’t happen. I got up this morning, shuffled through the snow to pick up my wet newspaper, and kept my head down against the snow that was still falling and wind that was still blowing.

Mind you, I’ve spent lots of days hunting deer in snow and wind, but I’ve never found the turkey hunting or photographing wild turkeys in such weather to be much fun. Often, the day is wasted while waiting for the birds to make their appointed round. Often, they stay roosted longer than normal, fly down late, peck around for a bit, and stay fairly close to their roost trees.

There are exceptions to all rules, but rarely will turkeys move well in heavy snow.

I heard no gobbles or yelps, saw no birds, and never saw a single sign of a turkey-bird, regardless of sex. Periodic snow fell today from leaden skies, and although the temperature warmed a bit, it didn’t melt much snow. Tomorrow doesn’t look like it’s going to offer very good hunting conditions, and this first season really points out the hazard of hunters choosing the first hunting season. All too often, the weather falls apart like it did today.

There was a pretty good lightning storm last night as it snowed, and thunder rolled through the North Country as the front moved through. Flashes of lightning could be seen last evening as the snow piled up on my deck.

So, does that mean hunters should apply for the short second season in Area K or go for the lengthy last season? I usually apply for the second season because I usually draw a tag. The third season can provide some of the most suitable turkey hunting conditions of all, but there are some problems with this late hunt.

Hunters have most of May to hunt, but that means mosquitoes as the weather warms. It also means morel mushroom hunters to share the turkey season with, which can lead to some unusual encounters with people who have no clue that turkey hunting season is open.

All they know is somebody in camo clothing is roaming the woods wearing a face mask and carrying a shotgun. Some people seem distressed by such a sight. However, for those who are willing to share the woods with people looking for morel mushrooms, it can provide some very good turkey hunting.

For me, I’m not sure how my second season will pan out but I’m hoping that we are far enough along in our spring weather that we won’t be fighting heavy snow storms. But then again, who can be sure with the crazy weather we’ve had so far this spring.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors