A kill isn't always necessary

The elk were high, and this would have been easy but not what I wanted
photo courtesy Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

To shoot or not to shoot? That was the immediate question.
I was in Colorado 20 years ago on an elk hunt. My buddy and I had seen several bull elk so far and out hunt still had a few days to go. We spotted a small elk herd from a distance, glassed them to see what they looked like.

"The bull on the far right is a nice 6X5," he whispered. "The middle bull is just a spike, and the left one is partly hidden. I can't see his rack."

The bull then eased from the black timber and offered us  a long  look

"Wait. He's stepping out, and he's a dandy 5X5 with good ivory tips," the guide said. The right and left bulls are shooters. We have the wind in our favor, and if we can get 75-100 yards closer we can sneak in close for a good shot if cow elk don't get in our way."

To shoot or not to shoot? Shakespeare never had this problem. For me, it was easily solved. I chose not to make the stalk and take the shot. The bulls were decent racks but not what I'd hoped for. I offered them to my Michigan friend,

This hunt took place in September. I was looking for something big; I'm not a trophy hunter, but had fond hopes of getting a big bull. Besides, I wasn't keen on shooting a nice bull elk so early in the hunt.

"Want him?" my buddy asked our guides who also had an elk tag. "The best bull is on the right, and most hunters would be tickled to take him. He's broadside, and after a short stalk it would be an easy bow shot at 40 yards."

He knew I could kill a  bull elk at 40 yards, but I didn't want to shoot the animal.

I shook my head no, and the three of us moved quietly from the area to look for a bigger bull. The guide and my friend kept looking sideways at me, probably thinking I was nuts for not shooting.

Sometimes elk hunting should be a solitary sport

The next day we drove as far up-hill as possible to get near a water-hole up an old mountainous two-track. We left the truck behind, and then climbed uphill within easy reach of the water hole. Two hours later, we were there and had scouted the entire area. An elk bugled briefly and we shifted our attention to the sound.

"Here comes a nice bull," the guide said. "He looks great: heavy antler beams, long tines and a 5X5 rack. I'll try calling to see if he's interested."

My neck hairs lifted at the sound of elk music drifting through the mountains, and the bull responded by moving closer. The call had him interested, and for good reason: The bull wanted water from the water-hole, and figured he may have to get past the other bull. He closed to within 100 yards, turned broadside and challenged the unseen bull.

I again shook my head no to the unasked question. My friend couldn't understand my apparent reluctance to shoot a bull. Neither could the guide.

"I shot a beauty here two years ago, and since I have a choice in the matter, I'll wait for something bigger," I told him. "If I see an elk larger than what I've already taken, I'll shoot. Until then, I'll hold off and shoot a deer when I get home."

Many elk were seen but we never fired an arrow at any of them

We saw 16 antlered bull elk on that Colorado hunt, and I passed on each one. He wound up shooting a nice 5X5, and was very pleased with his choice. It was his first elk with a bow, and a wonderful accomplishment.

I shot nothing, and wasn't disappointed. He, a first-time elk hunter was ecstatic, but still couldn't figure out why I wouldn't shoot. He didn't realize that I'd been here before, and had shot my share of bulls, and didn't need to do so again.

I assured him that he'd been a great hunting partner but the simple fact was I hadn't seen an animal I wanted. The hunt offered thrills and many opportunities, and no one could have asked for anything more. I had numerous chances to shoot in a sport where one lost opportunity may be all a hunter ever gets.

A successful hunt doesn't always mean returning home with game. I had many chances to shoot, but there was no need unless I saw an elk I really wanted. The animal I had hoped to take never materialized, but that didn't diminish my time afield.

If anything, it enhanced my hunt, which is difficult for other hunters to understand. My time was well spent, and seeing game in beautiful hunting country was a plus, but I've never regretted my decision.

A kill isn't always needed to produce a meaningful hunting experience on this or three other elk hunt where I've passed up nearly 40 bulls. I would have been happy and proud to see my hometown friend do the job but he wouldn't either.

I hunt for what I please, and what is legal, and if I don't shoot, it's because of one of three reasons: the bulls were too young to shoot or I simply couldn't catch up with them. A third choice is possible.

Perhaps because I greatly enjoy the hunt, that when it comes time to shoot, the urge to kill the bull has gone away.
In any respect, the guide and other hunter had a choice and decided not to shoot either. For us, the hunt itself had been enough.

How NOT to wade a steelhead stream

Larry Winans once posed for photos of an out-of-control angler.

 

Water is great stuff. It's wonderful to drink, the right stuff for showers, great to wade in, fun to fish in, and a necessity when hunting ducks in the fall.

However, it is not fun to swim in at cold times of the year. Here's what happened when I needed a story and photos on short notice for a newspaper story. It turned out to be a great column..

The Betsie River has strong currents in certain locations and dark water. High early spring  water complicates things even further because it dirties up once the spring run-off occurs. Seeing bottom can become nearly impossible.

Certain areas can only be waded with extreme caution. I knew where two early-spawning steelhead were spawning on a bed, and proper positioning had me in the key location to cast a wet fly. Time after time the fly passed their nose, and time and again the male and female parted to allow the intruding fly to swing past.

It may have been the 50th or 60th cast when the male separated early, moved toward the fly, and sucked it in. The hook was promptly set and the fish jumped once. It darted upstream, and fought hard until it began to tire.

The buck steelhead, his cheeks and gill covers the color of orange-pineapple ice cream, put his broad side to the heavy current and started drifting downstream. I was fishing a familiar area, one I knew like my backyard. Or, so I thought. I had forgotten to take in mind the higher water level and that brush could have washed in.

It was necessary to stick very close to the bank, and with the river swollen with run-off, I knew it would be tippy-toe as the fish tugged its way downstream. The first six steps took me into waist-deep water.

"Cool," I thought. "This isn't too bad. The bottom shelves up 10 feet from here."

 

That 10 feet was a real treat. Five feet into it my toe bumped against a submerged log that had washed in on the high water, and with the water pushing hard on my back, over I went with a mighty splash. I never felt bottom again for nearly 150 yards.

The strong current turned me upside down, rolled me around, sent me feet-first and then rump-first, down around the bend. The fish was still on, tugging at my rod as it was held up out of the water, but a one-armed breast stroke just wasn't cutting it. The river carried me another 100 yards around the bend, and as I came to a shallow gravel bar, I heaved my rod up on shore.

My waders were filled with water, and the current ground me into the gravel bar with considerable force, and finally I was able to get to my hands and knees and crab across the gravel to shore where I floundered like a beached whale. I grabbed a sapling, pulled myself to my feet, and bent over to dump out  some water.

My butt plunked onto the bank as I pulled my waders off, and emptied them back into the river. The temperature was in the mid-20s with a 10 mph breeze, and I had to get my rod and head for the car. Shivering had already set in.

My rod was pulled from the brush, and as I reeled in my slack line, the rod came alive in my hands. One hundred yards downstream the steelhead bolted into the air, flipped its tail like a farewell salute, and we came undone.

There was a steep hill to climb, and as I reached my car another angler stopped to ask about the fishing. He then noticed I was soaking wet.
"Fall in?" he asked. Here was a man with a magnificent grasp of the obvious.

"Nope," I said, "a big steelhead took me water skiing. The problem was he couldn't pull quite hard enough to keep me up on top. He got away, and all I got was a short but wet and wild ride down the river."

It had been a neat experience. Mind you, but it's not one I wish to try again anytime soon, but one that has carved a special niche in my memory.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

How to approach your hunting stand without spooking deer

A truck is the best way to approach a blind. Truck drops off and picks up hunters.

OK, folks, which is the best way to walk to your deer-hunting stand? Skulk along like you are trying to sneak up on the deer or just walk straight-forward without trying to sneak from one tree to the next?

In this country, opinions are like elbows: everyone has at least one. You may disagree with my thoughts, and I may take issue with yours, but we should each respect the other for the right to speak up for their choice.

My vote goes to grabbing the bow and walking directly to the blind. Climb into it, settle down, get ready for deer activity, and it seems to work for me. A deer that may observe me walking along, and ducking into a blind, isn't frightened by my actions. I do nothing to frighten the animal.

Walk with head up, don't look at deep, and don't appear to be sneaking along.

The deer may circle the area, pick up a tiny bit of scent, but not enough to spook them. It goes on about its business without being unduly alarmed. People on foot are common in the deer woods.

A sneaking or skulking hunter, one who tiptoes toward the hunting blind while darting from bush to bush, attracts far more attention from deer. An upright man may cause deer to run off 50 yards and stop in heavy cover to see what happens, and when nothing does, their fear disappears.

A hunter that acts suspicious, and causes deer to become alarmed, do themselves more harm than anything else. They literally drive deer away by their actions.

The sportsman who wishes to reach his blind as quickly as possible, should walk steadily (don't run or sneak), and when he reaches the ground blind, elevated coop or tree stand, should get into position with a minimum amount of noise, sit down and sit still.

Once the hunter reaches his hunting area without incident, disappears from sight into the blind or stand, he is soon forgotten. They don't seem to pose any danger to the deer, and the animals soon revert back to normal feeding patterns.

Climb into position in a tree or open the door to a ground blind. Don't make noise.

A moving pickup truck is always studied by nearby deer, and as long as it moves along steadily and the people inside stay inside when the truck stops, it doesn't unduly frighten the animals.

There are times when a truck can pull up to a blind, a hunter can ease out and get into the stand, and then the truck pulls away. Deer can't count. The truck pulls in, stops for a half-minute, and then moves on. Just don't slam the truck door or make noise getting your gear out of the truck bed.

People may think getting into a stand scares deer. It doesn't as long as everything acts natural and there are no loud and unexpected noises. It's noise that deer might hear a hunter make from inside the blind or from a tree stand that will drive deer crazy. An unexpected sneeze or a cough will trigger the alarm button.

Moving directly to the stand in a normal walking pace is the best way to get there. It's the straight-line rule between two points that is important; providing the sportsman doesn't have to walk through a bedding area.


If deer are seen on the way to the stand, don't stop to look at them, but keep moving forward without breaking stride. Hunters who stop to look at the deer will cause them to snort and alert all other deer in the area.

Ignore any deer and walk at a normal pace to the blind.

A person who ignores the deer and walks at a steady pace to his blind often cause the deer to bound away but they usually do not snort and spook.

This year, just to prove it to yourself, try walking right along without lifting your head or stopping to look at deer, and climb into the stand and sit still. If that doesn't convince you, try sneaking from bush to bush and tree to tree, stopping frequently, and skulking about, and see how often you get snorted at.

You'll soon learn what works best and what does not. It takes many things coming together to make a deer hunt end with a shot at a good buck.

It makes little sense to do anything that may draw attention to your presence on stand. Just walking steadily to a blind makes a great deal of sense to me.

Why write a daily outdoor blog?

The above title asks a good question, and it's been tossed my way for nearly eight years by many readers from around the world. My answer is invariably the same: why not?

Anglers and hunters can understand a column, which is nothing more than a bit of self-indulgence plus some solid fishing or hunting experience and information.

Columns are about what I think, feel, do, believe in, rant against, etc. The same thing can be said about a blog.

A blog (short for weblog) is a daily journal of sorts. It covers the wide range of my daily emotions, and how I look at things through a bleary and somewhat biased or jaundiced eye.

You may sense a touch of anger, animosity, joy, sorrow or other human emotions. My feelings on a wide variety of things is never far from the surface nor am I adversed to speaking my mind.

You'll almost always feel my love for the environment, the animals, birds and fish that we hunt or try to catch, and you'll feel my sense of betrayal and delusion when some sorry dude levels perfectly wonderful wildlife habitat and builds a shopping mall or hard-scrabble subdivision on it, adding more of what we don't need to the overall trashiness that has become something less than Paradise.

Each daily weblog is different, and they cover all types of fishing and hunting.

Readers will read my unabashed feelings on brook trout that invariably turn me on in their watery little trickles, and the litter that invariably turns me off when I must look at it. You'll note, hopefully with a righteous indignation like mine, when I bare my soul or teeth about the destruction of a never-ending amount of wild land.

Hopefully, you'll share my glee when the DNR does something really great or get ticked off when they continue to do something utterly stupid like depriving you and me of the opportunity to obtain private-land spring turkey permits in Region II while granting such permits to people in the Upper Peninsula and southern Lower Peninsula.

Zone II hunters get the shaft on that turkey ruling.

My weblog runs daily, and I've only missed a few days since November, 2003, and then only because some piece of crud hacked my website. My archives are available to one and all, and I urge readers to dust off some of them and see what you've missed.

You'll share my pain when my beloved twin brother George died on Sept. 10, 2003. You'll get as excited as I did when catching a 30-pound muskie, writing about the Christmas Tree Bomber, and other true tales.

I invite you to walk with me when we go into a bear swamp for a hunt, and what is even more fun, when we walk out in the darkness. Jump into my tree stand as we bow-hunt for whitetails, and whisper in my ear when it's time to shoot a dandy buck or tell me to draw down on him and let up, giving him a life he could have lost had I shot.

Come along as we wade belly-deep into an area steelhead stream during those cold March days, and grab the net when we slug it out with hefty chinook salmon in the fall. Let's take a walleye fishing trip on Long or Platte lakes, a bluegill outing to Arbutus Lake, and we can trudge through the January snow in search of cottontails and snowshoe hares, even though there are very few of the latter these days.

Do you feel up to laying flat on the ground in January as Canada geese hover overhead, honking loudly, as our belly muscles tighten and we lever our way to a sitting and shooting position? Is there anyone out there who doesn't thrill to the loud and clattering flush of a ruffed grouse as the October dew dries on the ready-to-fall golden leaves?

Does any upland gunner fail to rejoice to the towering flight of woodcock as they dart and twist ever upward out of the alders before quickly plummeting to earth before we can swing and shoot?

Calling predators with that high-pitched squeal of a dying rabbit is a heap of fun during the winter months as the coyote darts out of a thicket, and begins circling to a downwind location. We know a shot may be possible but it's nerve wracking to watch the animal close in on a spot straight downwind. Will we get a shot or be winded?

Fishing and hunting has been a major part of my life for 60 of my 71 years, and I eagerly await each new season and every new adventure. You ask me: why write a daily weblog.

I write because I must; to satisfy a strong need within me to do so. There is a deep driving need to write, and a need to share my love of fishing and hunting with my readers. I don't have to write for the money although I wish this blog and website paid more; instead, writing about the outdoors makes me feel good, makes me feel whole and productive while helping to smooth out all the rough spots in my life.

You and me, we can go places and do things. We can discover new places to fish or hunt, and learn more about what pulls us ever onward to another wonderful outdoor adventure.

People who stay indoors, and watch idiotic game shows on television have my sincere sympathy.

Me, I'd rather be outdoors with a bow or rod in my hand, and enjoying nature. How about you?

NOTE: Don't forget to check out my Scoop's Books and my Book Reviews. These sites can also be accessed from my Home Page.

Take care of each other, and mentor someone about fishing and hunting.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Don't brag, don't lecture but help other sportsmen

One beginner, one experienced angler and a beautiful spring steelhead.

A boast sometimes rankles other people, especially when two or more anglers are fishing together. Almost always, one of them is big on himself and wants everyone else to know what a great angler he is.

Most people could care less what people have done. The trick is to be courteous and helpful, and if asked, answer the question as well as possible without bragging yourself up.

For instance, I know how many deer I've shot over 60 years. It's really too many, and I seldom bring up the topic. I've been fortunate to have deer hunted in many states beside my native Michigan but choose not to constantly dwell on myself and my deeds.

On the other hand, I dislike being in a group that is being monopolized by an ego-freak who is determined to quote numbers, sizes, the width of a rack which invariably is larger than anyone else has taken. After a short time, the egotist discovers he no longer is preaching to the choir. They've gone home while the was running his mouth.

Mentoring outdoor writers

I mentor younger outdoor writers. All are making or have made many of the same mistakes I made when starting out, but in my case, there was no one who offered to teach me any of the things I didn't know. I struggled, made more mistakes, and trust me. When I tell people how to avoid making similar mistakes, there is not a word of a brag to it. I tell them about my mistakes and how long it took me to correct many such errors. They learn fast or struggle for a time before quitting.

A friend stopped by yesterday, and he is looking forward to drawing a turkey tag this spring. He wanted some calling advice, and I told him I am not a good turkey caller. I also told him that many, many hunters can call ten times better than me, but I can call turkeys. No brag involved when I downplay my miniscule calling skills, but others can associate with my lack of such because they have their own foibles. Some of these beginners are far better callers than me.

I showed him a couple of tricks I've learned, told him how I do it, and repeated what he'd been told before. Don't call too much, don't call too loud, don't move and be patient.

A quick lesson ...

Years ago, I gave my twin brother a five-minute lesson on turkey calling. I took my gent out, and the bird I tried to call came in behind us, stood there drumming and spitting, and we couldn't get a shot. My brother was hunting a mile away, and we drove over just in time to watch him call in and kill a gobbler with just five minutes of instruction.

He got a well deserved pat on the back. My gent was disappointed for a bit, but he shot his gobbler that afternoon.

The lesson to all of this is that bragging long and hard on oneself is boring to others. If I'm asked, I'll answer a question and quickly turn the conversation back toward them.

Beginning anglers and hunters need to boast a bit over their successes, and that's OK...up to a point. But if you've shot 100 bucks with a bow, it means that you've hunted far more than most people. It also means, if you dwell on that number without teaching, those people often think you are lying, boring or a game hog.

None of which may be true. I'm a good deer hunter and a good steelhead fisherman, and have spent six decadess at both endeavors. Unless a person is blind or stupid, it stands to reason that they should have learned something along the way. Share that knowledge with others but spare the bragging.

A guide teaches a gentle lesson...

Forty years ago I drove to New Brunswick to fish Atlantic salmon with a fishing guide. I sought his advice on which salmon flies to buy, and he pointed them out. I sought his advice on which fly to start with, and he picked one out for me.

Two hours into fishing, my guide said softly: "Begging your pardon, sir, but I suspect you've washed that fly long enough. I'd suggest changing to a brighter pattern."

He didn't have to dwell on the fact that I should have changed flies earlier. He offered a suggestion that I gladly accepted, and when I hooked a 10-pound salmon on a brightly colored fly, he didn't claim any credit. I'd been the one to choose the fly, and luckily, it produced a fish.

He could have bragged about his knowledge and skills, but instead, offered me a pat on the back for "choosing" the right fly. I had no clue what I was doing, and it was his suggestion that made that cast a success.

Even today, I enjoy giving credit to him for me catching my first Atlantic salmon. He poled the boat into position, told me where to cast, how long a cast to make, and all I did was manage to land the high-jumping fish once it hooked itself on the strike.

Stow the bragging, and if possible, share your know-how with another person without trying to make yourself look important. I labor in a business where there are more egotists than I ever believed possible, but I check my ego at the door when I leave home. Doing so works wonderfully for me.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Words to live by

Brook trout (left) and brown trout allow anglers to create their own dreams.

For more than four decades, I’ve played around with words: bringing them to light, examining them, fixing  them up, moving them around, and the end result is to make them mean a little bit more than what they should mean to most people.

That’s what this writing game is all about: making the reader find something of beauty and value about this great outdoors. Here I’ve collected some words by other writers that when read aloud or at a private moment, will create wonderful word pictures. Following each quote is where and when these quotes first appeared.

*The closer one lives to nature, the less he is affected by the chances and changes of life. -- Archibald Rutledge, An American Hunter, 1937.

*It is not, he muttered, the hasty ascent up the thorn tree when you are being chased by a rhino that hurts so much. It is the long trip down. -- Robert Ruar, The Honey Badger, 1965.

Read outdoor literature & find some favorite quotes.

*As he gets closer, it will dawn on you that there is simply no place you can go to avoiid his six tons of murder. He can easily outrun the fastest sprinter with his deceptive shuffle, and if you're thinking about climbing a tree, don’t bother. He’ll either knock you out of it personally or toot up a couple of chums to share in the festivities. If 12,000 pounds of screaming, screeching, infuriated  elephant bearing down on you has somehow rattled your nerves to the point that you miss that four-by-six-inch spot on his forehead, or your bullet fails to penetrate the two-and-one-half-feet of tough, spongy, honey-combed bone that protects his brain, then you may as well forget it. The most talented mortuary cosmetician in the world couldn’t rewire you so your own mother would know if you were face-up or down. -- Peter Hathaway Capstick, Death In The Long Grass, 1977.

*I still enjoy the company of most dogs more than that of most people, because dogs are capable of uncomplicated enthusiasm. -- John Gierach, Standing In A River Waving A Stick, 1999.

A quote that can easily be believed in.

*We keep our memories in the same place we bury dogs and pals who are no longer with us. We keep these treasures in the vaults that hold the sights of geese pitching into a set of field decoys, and quail buzzing out of a brushy corner by a split-rail fence. And when the time comes when it’s easier to remember old times than to gather up new ones, it is to this place that we go, you and I, to watch for the last flight at sunset. -- Steve Smith, Picking your Shots, 1986.

*Not only did turkeys originate Murphy’s Law, they have rewritten several of its postulates. And what they make go wrong has gone wrong, and then gotten worse, they really get down to work and create trouble. -- Tom Kelly, Tenth Legion, 1973.

*The deer hunter habitually watches the next bend, the duck hunter watches the skyline, the bird hunter watches the dog; the non-hunter does not watch. -- Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac, 1949.

*There is another answer to the question of why man hunts. He hunted before he had fire. If he was brave and skilled his family ate. If not, they starved. He no longer hunts from necessity. He hunts because he is the end product of a thousand gerations of hunters. He has inherited the love and enjoyment of it, as the artist has inherited the skills and desires of the primitive man who first drew  pictures on the wall of a cave. When he no longer does it he will be a far weaker man than he is today. -- Ben East, The Ben East Hunting Book, 1974.

*I never go to rivers to kill hecatombs of trout or, actually, any trout; I go to unkill parts of myself that otherwise might die. -- Nick Lyons, Fishing Widows, 1874.

Catching fish or shooting game isn’t about a limit. It’s about the experience.

*I fish not because I regard fishing as being so terribly important, but because I suspect so many of the other concerns are equally unimportant--and not nearly as much fun. -- Robert Traver, Anatomy If A Fisherman, 1864.

*If a man is really intelligent, there’s practically nothing a good dog can’t teach him. -- Robert Ruark, The Old Man & The Boy, 1957.

*To the sensitive gunner nothing can equal a bird and a dog and a gun in trilogy. -- George Bird
Evans, Men Who Shot, 1983.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Deer Death In The Winter Woods

Late winter is not a pleasant time for the state's whitetail deer. Nature exacts her vicious toll during a harsh winter, and the competition between deer for food can be vicious.

The words "survival of the fittest" is an apt description of an adult doe and her offspring. I've watched does stomp their fawns into a bloodied, befuddled state.

Several years ago I watched deer on the move. They came  from all direction to feed behind my home. I had placed corn on the ground, since it was legal to do so then, spread it around, and the deer came every evening right at dark.

Mature does fight for winter food. Fawns can't survive such a battering as this.

The deer ate but there's nothing courteous about winter deer. This was Mother Nature hard at work, with each deer vying for the most food. They ate as much as possible, as quickly and greedily as possible, and weren't keen about sharing.

A doe, accompanied by twin fawns, began feeding. The doe fawn moved too close to her mother, and the older animal reared up on her hind legs and pummeled the hapless youngster before running the fawn off. So much for motherly love and sharing at the February dinner table.

It was hardly a Disney-like portrayal of Bambi and Mom. This was a realistic view of a deer's winter life. The doe fawn, weighing barely 40 pounds, moved away from her mother. She was bowed and bloodied from the attack. Ten minutes later she tried to feed near her young brother, and was viciously kicked by the slightly larger sibling.

It's called survival of the fittest. Did the doe fawn survive? It's doubtful.

The doe fawn was fuzzy-faced, with ribs and hip bones jutting out. Her lethargic movements doomed her to one of two deaths: a lingering death from starvation or a more rapid demise as coyotes would eat her alive. Which is worse? For the young fawn, the end result wpi;d be the same.

Fawns need nutritional food but many never get enough.

In some areas the browse is eaten away higher than most adult deer can reach. Fawns move from one spot to another in search of food, and should they get off a well-packed deer trail, they are too weak to crawl back through deep snow onto the trail and its relative safety.

Snow depths throughout most of the northern areas averages two feet in depth right now after our brief thaw, and the snow is much deeper in most of the Upper Peninsula.

It's merely a statement of fact: hard winters exact a horrible toll on whitetails. A bobcat or free-ranging pet dog can easily kill winter-weakened whitetails.

In years of deep snow, the animals have nowhere to go. The DNR used tp allow supplemental deer feeding. Not any more, and this stupid action and unwise DNR decisions have hurt our deer herd. That false-alarm CWD scare two years ago has hurt our deer herd. It will take quite some time for our deer herd to recover from the lack of supplemental feeding. And frankly, with out a beefed-up crew of Conservation Officers, it can be difficult to keep up with illegal baiting.

The CWD false alarm and a DNR knee-jerk reaction hurt state deer herd.

Deer need thermal cover to break the wind and provide warm cover, but year after year they return to the same over-browsed deer yards, and most years the winter starvation rate can be incredibly high.

This little spike buck might not make it through the winter.

The most vulnerable deer right now are adult bucks and fawns. An adult buck will lose 25-30 percent of its body fat and weight during the rut, and unless the weather moderates enough to allow them to stockpile body fat, they can die early.

Fawns must compete with their mothers and other larger deer for food, and when the going gets tough, fawn and older bucks start dying.

Starving deer often start feeding on browse that lacks any nutritional value. The sad fact is that winter whitetails often die with a full belly, and it is a slow, wasting death. Survival means being mean, being big enough to reach enough browse to make it through the winter, and looking out for No. 1.

The fawns have to fend for themselves, and the death toll mounts in February and March. It's too bad but it's Nature's way.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors