Boo On Some TV Hunting Shows

I'm not a big television fan, and would rather read a good book than watch dumb shows. Many people apparently agree with this philosophy.

OK, folks, want an example. Most television hunting shows focus on whitetails. Most of the show hosts are from down south. Now, I mean no disrespect to any one, but I'm tired of hearing deer antlers being called "horns."

Deer do not have  horns. They have antlers. Bison, goats, muskoxen and sheep around the world have horns. Horns on big-game animals continue to grow until the animal dies while antlers are shed every year. I even hear a few people from Michigan call a deer's rack "horns." Guess again, fella, and try to get the show terminology correct. It will give you and your television show more credibility. The animal below and to the left is a whitetail wearing antlers, nor "horns."

Sportsmen, speak the proper language. Call antlers by their proper name.

On occasion, and I mean that both figuratively and literally, I'll watch a television hunting show. I shy away from some because I have a major problem viewing many bloody, brain-dead, poorly-thought-out shows. I hate watching shows with the host walking around in his underwear.

Many hunts are filmed on a game ranch. I don't care if the deer they shoot are raised behind a fence as long as the host informs the viewing audience. Too many people view these shows, and consider the host a superb hunter. How many hunters do you personally know that kills a big buck every week and everywhere they go.

Some are excellent hunters, and great shots, and some may not be but the viewer is left out of touch with what is real and what is not.

I won't name names, and I'm not out to bad-mouth anyone. But I see things on some shows that fly in the face of what I consider good form and good hunting ethics. Some set poor examples for their viewers.

Here is an example. A guy was sitting 25-30 feet up a tree, and along comes a buck walking directly at him. The bow comes back to full draw, the deer catches the movement and stops to look up, and he shoots the animal in front of the front shoulder near the brisket.

The deer was shot in full daylight, and suddenly it is extremely dark, and they find the deer 75 yards away after a perfect shot, or so they say. Does this mean that taking whatever shot the deer offers will make the viewer a better hunter? Not hardly, because they may assume that this was a good shot when in fact it was a horrible shot placement.

Deer facing the hunter like this are very low percentage shots. Don't take this one. Wait for it to turn.

There are two high-percentage shots that hunters should take: broadside and quartering-away, and the latter is the best. The showing of this deer being shot in front of the front shoulder, coupled with the fact that it had apparently taken hours and perhaps more than one day to find the animal, is never explained. Again, a poor example is set for novice hunters. Sportsmen who know better won't watch these shows more than once because they have respect for the game they shoot.

Another show I recently watched saw an arrow hit a deer in the front shoulder blade. There was hardly any penetration, and the animal ran off with the arrow dangling down. They later found a deer, and it shows the animal with a round hole behind the front shoulder. It appeared to be a different deer, one that was apparently shot with a rifle to provide a dead animal for the show. Folks, you were suckered on that one.

Right, wrong, I'm not the hunting-show police. It's not up to me to act as an unpaid overseer of how they produce their shows. I made a vow to my readers many years ago that I wouldn't fib, lie, prevaricate or tell something which was not true. For 42 years I've kept that promise.

I write books, magazine articles, newspaper articles and columns, and now write for my personal website. I write a daily blog, and one has to have countless experiences to continue to write a story every day, but what I write is what I've done. There's no need for exaggeration. I've hunted on a professional level for most of my life, and I want my professsional image to be queaky clean.

Granted, this is just a personal observation about some television hunting shows. Each person has his or her own sense of personal ethics, but when I see someone shoot a buck in the shoulder, and when they "recover" the deer and it looks different, I have a problem accepting such things. It's just flat wrong! I just saw one show where a bear was shot in the water. That's not legal in the many places I hunt.

The video made me want to puke.

Many years ago, a hunter who had numerous whitetail bucks in the  record books (before they were disqualified) got into making videos. I bumped into him on a hunt, and he wanted me to see his latest video.

I almost walked out before the video ended. He was proud of the live "kill" and "pass-through" shots. In one scene he shot a buck, it ran off, stumbled and fell in a tiny stream. The camera zeroed in on the downed buck, blood spurting into the air and turning the creek water red, and he asked what I thought of his latest masterpiece.

"That is the most disgusting video I've ever seen!" I said. "How many "pass-through" shots are needed? I believe your sales will dwindle if you leave the buck-in-the-creek and spurting blood in that video. We all know that an arrow-shot deer bleeds and dies, but is it necessary to video such a scene? It would be like videotaping one of your children or a parent dying. Some women will ask their husband not to view it when the children are around. Some women will just make the thing disappear."

He left in the spurting blood portion of the buck kicking and thrashing in the creek, and the video didn't sell well. Then, other video producers started an attempt to clean up some gorier hunting videos.

A nice buck but a quartering-to bow shot is a low-percentage opportunity.

He didn't speak to me again for several years, but later admitted that he and the video producer made an error in judgement. I am not the guy to say such things mustn't be shown. I'm just a guy who feels that some things don't deserve to be shown in all their blood-and-guts glory.

Some things are better left alone. The outdoor magazines long ago shied away from bloody abdomens, blood around the nose and mouth, and most outdoor writers take time to clean up the animal and stick its tongue back in before shooting photos. A live deer is majestic to look at but a dead deer just looks dead, even if it has been cleaned up. You can put lipstick on a pig to make it look better, but in the end, it is still a pig that has been tramped up a bit.

Sorry to natter on so long on such tasteless topics. I just saw one of the shows a few days ago, and felt I had to write about it. Journalists should report only that which is honest and true, and if it doesn't cause other people to get wild-eyed with horror when they see it.

Frankly, I'm tired of the fist pumps, the knuckle bumps, the thumb-grip handshakes, and the phoniness of some of these shows. The laughing and giggling when something dies leaves a very bad taste in my mouth.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Blood Trailing Isn't Easy

I've helped many people blood-trail wounded deer, but one look at the spoor of this whitetail doe told the story. This would be a difficult trailing job. The deer had been hit through the paunch, and finding gut-shot deer is never an easy task.

There was very little blood to follow. I knew if we pressed the deer it wouldn't lay down, but would continue to run all night, resulting in a lost animal. The arrow was covered with digested food, tallow and specks of blood. It was a bad hit, and the hunter was baffled.

"Where did the arrow hit?" I asked. "How did the deer react when hit?"

"I thought it went in behind the front shoulder," he said. "The doe humped up when the arrow hit, but it should have been a good lung hit."

A big difference between reality and truth.

It wasn't. A gut-hit deer often humps up when hit and can travel long distances before succumbing. A hunter's only hope is to walk away, have a late dinner, and return several hours later to begin a tough tracking job. We hoped to find the animal before the coyotes did.

We hoped the animal would lay down and stiffen up instead of moving away from pursuing hunters. Waiting several hours would improve our chance of recovery but also increase the risk of losing the it to coyotes.

We recovered that animal, but it required an hour of tracking after we had waited several hours. The doe covered a half-mile of thick swamp before bedding down, and we lost the trail several times before finding the animal under a fallen log.

A gruesome story? Absolutely, but any hunter worthy of the name must do everything possible to recover the animal. Hunting ethics demand nothing less than a concentrated effort.

Blood trailing a wounded deer is seldom easy.

Blood-trailing wounded deer is the responsibility of the hunter who shot the animal, but some skill is required. A good lung or heart shot usually anchors the deer within 100 yards; a gut-shot animal may run miles.

Unfortunately, what looked to be a good arrow hit to the hunter, and what actually took place, were two entirely different things. It's important to observe the exact point of arrow impact, and know how the animal reacted when hit.

Clues, like color of deer hair found on the ground where the animal was shot can indicate where the arrow hit; white hair usually indicates a low belly hit.

Zero in on where the arrow actually hits and Use a Gane Tracker.

Train yourself to key in on the exact location of the arrow wound, and learn if the arrow exited the animal, leaving an entrance and exit wound. A bloody arrow, a steady blood trail, frothy blood that indicates a lung hit; all can help the hunter make wise trailing decisions.

The Game Tracker, a string tracking device, is a great tool for bow hunters. The string attaches to an arrow behind the broadhead, and once the head slices into the deer, the line pays out from a canister attached to the bow.

It is easy to follow the line (use orange Game Tracker line in the winter) to the fallen animal. A double string means the arrow passed through the deer; a single line means the arrow is still in the animal. A white string can be used during the fall until snow covers the ground.

A sharp broadhead kills by severing arteries, capillaries and veins, and by slicing through and disrupting the function of vital organs, thereby creating massive hemorrhaging. All deer, unless hit in the spine, will run and offer some type of blood trail although it may take 50 yards before the flow exits the animal.

Trailing wounded deer can be a time consuming task. It often means a slow approach from one drop of blood to the next, and the task cannot be hurried. Too many people charge wildly through the trail and obliterate all sign left on the ground or nearby vegetation. Keep the trailing crew to no more than three people, and don't walk on the blood trail.

Move slowly, one step at a time. Mark each drop of blood with a piece of tissue paper to establish a line of travel or leave one person at the last blood. Move cautiously forward until more blood is found, but don't lose track of the last spot where blood was found.

Keep well-meaning people away from a blood trail to avoid problems.

Never allow well-meaning bystanders to move ahead; serious blood trailing is a one- or two-man job. Look for blood on grass, leaves, trees,  twigs or weeds.

Blood on autumn leaves will look rusty, and a squirt of hydrogen peroxide will cause blood to bubble. A russet-colored leaf without blood will not foam up.

Look for any sign that might indicate a deer's passage. A scuffed leaf, matted marsh grass, hoof prints, broken tree limbs near the ground or any blood, tallow or bodily fluid.

Wounded deer often run in a straight line until they reach heavy cover. Then the animal often follows established deer trails until it begins to weaken, and then it may head downhill or begin to travel in a different direction.

Know what to expect from a wounded deer's blood trail.

A badly wounded deer with a heart or lung hit may not bleed until the last 10 to 20 yards before dying on the run. Be alert to sudden direction changes, and if necessary, spend time on hands and knees when searching for sign.

A Coleman lantern works better for blood trailing than a flashlight. Blood is more visible under lantern light. Scientific technlogy has led to improvement of lights for blood trailing. The light color often is blue.

Blood trailing isn't fun, but it is a necessity. It also is the ethical and proper thing to do. Leaving a deer to suffer and die a lingering death is not what sportsmen do.

I've often spend many hours trailing a wounded deer. Just make certain that the person who made the poor shot is in on the blood trailing. It may make that person concentrate more before releasing another arrow at a deer.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Bears Can Make One Wonder Why They Hunt Bruins

My vision is no longer good enough to hunt black bears. At least, not in those areas where they are hunted over bait as the animals slowly make their way to the bait just before shooting time ends.

I'll miss it, but after taking more than two dozen bruins over the past 30-some years, I've had more than my share of close encounters of the best and worst kinds Each encounter is different but all have the distinct possibility of leaving a hunter in a bad situation. Here are seven personal experiences that may make you question my sanity in the years gone by.

1. My closest call to total disaster came in Montana back in the 1960s while hiking the mountains. It started to snow, and I headed back down the mountain on a faint trail. I spotted a fresh grizzly bear track in the mud, whistled and made some noise and went around a dogleg bend. There stood the bear, perhaps 20 feet away, and we eyeballed each other for a few seconds before he ran off.

Some bears run in the open while others stay in heavy cover when wounded.

2. Once while fishing at Great Bear Lake in Canada's Northwest Territories, I was photographing a bruin at close range, and the animal looked up just as the flash went off, and here came the critter at a slow walk. I talked to it as it circled halfway around me at a distance of less than three feet while I turned with it. He backtracked after getting downwind and catching my scent, and walked off without hassling me. Another close call.

3. Years ago when my vision was good, I'd go in after wounded bears when a hapless hunter was too frightened to do it himself but I always went alone. No noise and fewer distractions. I spotted the bear crossing at an angle, ran a short distance to cut the angle, and then had to shoot the hip-shot bear five times with a 12 gauge 3-inch magnum shotgun and No. 4 buckshot. The last shot killed the pain-crazed bruin at six feet.

4. I really shouldn't count them but have walked into bait a stand, and walked to within just a few feet of a bruin on many occasions. The bruins would be there waiting for the dinner bell and showed up early. On one occasion the bear was on the far side of a log, and my bait was on the near side. He roused up when I put out the bait, stood up only three or four feet away, looked me over and walked away without looking back.

5. I hunted once near Higgins Lake, Michigan, and somehow I got off the path on the way out of a swamp after hunting and seeing a bear that was just out of my effective bow range. I started out, realized I was off my trail, backtracked and found the trail in the dark, and I had an escort all the way to my car. The bruin walked within 20 feet of me all the way out. No growls, no gnashing of teeth or foot-stomping. He just acted as an escort in the dark, perhaps to keep me from getting turned around again. He was a most considerate animal.

Face-to-face with an enraged sow with cubs.

6. Once, while hunting bears in Saskatchewan, a sow with three cubs gave me all the grief I wanted or would ever need. I had settled into my ground blind when she began growling, snapping her jaws, and swatting nearby trees. She left the area where I was and walked to the bait, shooed her cubs up a tree and came for me at a rapid walk. I stepped out, started talking to her, and she turned and went back. The cubs saw her coming and started down the tree, and she whoofed at them to get up the tree, and came for me on a dead run. She stopped 10 feet away while I held my scoped 7mm magnum rifle on her chest, and talked quietly. She popped her teeth, put her ears back, and once she started stomping the ground with her front feet, I felt a charge was imminent. The safety was off, the crosshairs settled on her head, and one forward movement would result in me killing her. I kept talking softly, and soon she backed off and so did I as I grabbed my backpack and walked three quarters of a mile out of the swamp with an enraged sow behind me. Thankfully, I didn’t have to shoot her. Fortunately, all of this occurred before it began to get dark.

7. I followed up on a wounded bear in Quebec once, and kept jumping the animal without seeing it in the heavy cover. I'd take the bear a ways, and then lose the trail again. I went back to the lodge, rested for an hour, and went back to the last blood and could find no more. I circled around, found a tiny foot-wide creek that looked as if something had crossed there. I rolled a blade of grass between my thumb and fore-finger, and found a spot of blood. I followed it up a slight hill through heavy cover, one slow step at a time with the shotgun barrel leading the way. I heard the bear growl just above me, took one more step up, and there he was, less than 10 feet away. One shot with the No. 4 buckshot took care of this animal.

Killing wounded bears isn't fun but it is exciting.

Some may think this is a large number of bears to shoot, but it's wise to remember that six of them had been wounded by someone else. I'd rather follow and put them out of their misery than to leave a bear, wounded by someone else, in the woods. They could live long enough to become a horrible menace to another person.

It was exciting work, and most of the wounded bears were killed within spitting distance. That kind of action will dry out your mouth, make the heart pound at a rapid pace, and cause you to wonder why you ever decided to do it.

Then I'd think of the wounded bear, and that would answer my mental question. Someone had to do the job, and I was there at the right (or wrong) time, depending on your point of view. And I was really pretty good at it back in the day.

Those days are of hunting down wounded bears is now gone forever but each one is vividly remembered. These close encounters with bears can leave a lasting impression on a guy.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Late-Season Steelheading

Rumor has it that last week's rains brought some silver steelhead into area streams, and I may go and check it out tomorrow morning and then drag out my bow to complete a surf-and-turf day.

The silver bullets, if one believes the rumors (which I do), are being caught in many rivers. Good bets are the AuSable, Betsie, Boardman, Elk, Manistee, Muskegon, Pentwater, Pere Marquette, Platte and White rivers.

If the inland lakes stay free of ice, steelhead can be caught by trolling in Betsie Bay, and Lake Charlevoix, Manistee Lake, Muskegon Lake, Pentwater Lake, Pere Marquette Lake, and other drowned rivermouth lakes just inland from Lake Michigan.

Trolling some inland lakes can produce big steelhead.

This presents a rather extraordinary opportunity for some late-season action, and the lakes will produce fair to good fishing action until they freeze up tight for winter.

Slow trolling produces most of the lake fish, and FlatFish in X-4. X-5 and U-20 sizes are best. Good colors are silver, silver-blue, gray pearl, chartreuse with red spots, yellow with red spots and pearl.

Fish can be found near the inlet and outlets of a lake but be certain to check regulations for each individual county for specific rules and regulations that may apply.

There is only one way a person can troll a FlatFish, and that is slow. Years ago, the most successful anglers were those who rowed the boat while trolling, but now, a small outboard can be throttled back to the putt-putt speed needed to bring out the peak action of these lures.

I always used 8- or 10-pound mono, and troll lures about 40 yards behind the slow-moving boat. We would steer a zig-zag course with sudden 10-foot bursts of speed that would  spurt ahead and then quickly slow down. Fish often hit on the speed-up or when making a turn to port or starboard.

Trolling hotspots.

The best spots to troll are along the first and/or second dropoffs out from shore. Most of the fish will be hooked in eight to 15 feet of water. Fall steelhead often roll on the surface of the lake, and give anglers some idea that they are present. Key fishing times are from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m., during the warmest part of the day. Another key time for fish to strike is when the sky is overcast and the sun breaks through the clouds for a few minutes.

Make no mistake about it. This is cold fishing, and we've had some great days fishing during a heavy snowstorm. Fish can be caught until the lake freezes up, and we've had a few good days when it was necessary to break ice to reach open water.

Bait produces well in rivers.

River fishing produces as well but the river water is cold and the fish get lethargic when water temperatures drop below 38 degrees. The key to river success is to fish slow, fish deep, and cover all potential holding water from every possible direction.

Spawnbags rolled across bottom work well or spawnbags can be released downstream from an anchored boat. Lift the bait up off bottom, release about three feet of line, and let the bait settle back to bottom. Steelies are somewhat reluctant to hit in cold water, and a slow presentation that gives fish time to react is what produces.

Anglers can use the dropback method with lures, and favorite plugs include the FlatFish, Tadpolly, Hot-n-Tot, and HotShot. Lower the lure into the water, and let the lure drift downstream for about 30 feet, and then thumb the reel arbor to halt its progress. These lures will wiggle in the current, and in cold water, let them wiggle in place for 30 to 60 seconds, and then release another three feet of line.

The lure will slowly work downstream, wiggle in one place, and then it will drop downstream another three feet. If a fish is holding nearby, it may drift downstream behind the lure, and sooner or later, one of two things will happen.

The fish will spook and head away from the wiggling lure. Or ... it will slam the plug. These strikes are hard, and although winter steelhead seldom jump, they will wallow on the surface.

Anglers have a somewhat rare opportunity now to fish for steelhead before the eventual freeze-up occurs. Now is the best time to take advantage of this action.

121309_droblog_Late-SeasonSteelheading_((tag: bait. Dave Richey, lures, Michigan, outdoors, rivers, spawnbags, steelhead, sunny, trolling, warm, wax worms))

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Coyotes Are Biding Their Time

The time of the Hunger Moon is fast approaching. It's that period next month when January coyotes and other critters have cleaned up on the aged, dead and wounded deer in the woods.

Right now, the woods are fairly silent at night. We've just started the muzzleloader season. There didn't seem to be a great deal of interest because of the deep snow, and I spent a good deal of time today outdoors shoveling my deck. We've had a big week for snow, and as of this writing, we've received 82 inches of snow at my house.

There is still a bunch of standing corn in the area where local farmers couldn't get it off before all the snow arrived. Deer are  staying near this  abundant food  source.

I never heard a shot all day today, and although a neighbor hunted, he didn't see a deer. All of that will soon change when the winter woods will rumble with the sounds of coyotes on the chase.

Coyotes most prevalent predator of all.

These predators are looking for food, and it matters little what is available. Coyotes have learned how to live in close proximity to man, and they are not bashful about announcing their presence. It's at times like this, with cold temperatures at night and snow growing deeper by the day, that the brush wolves start to make their presence known.

Twice this week I've seen coyote tracks near my mail bow, and out in back where deep snow covers what's left of our food plot. The local coyote population has learned to hang close to whatever deer forage is available, and as the snow piles up, they will start pulling down deer.

A coyote has a couple of favorite foods. One is cats. If Tabby is left outdoors at night, and doesn't show up in the morning, it's quite likely the mouser ran afoul of one or more coyotes and won't ever be coming home again.

The same holds true for small dogs. Leave a bowser out all night, and one of two things will happen. The dogs and other local dogs will form a pack and start running deer. Or ... they may bump heads with a pack of hunting coyotes, and they too will become fodder for their closely related canine family members.

There is little room in today's society for free-roaming cats and dogs. Cats are luckier than dogs because they can climb trees unless they get ambushed by the coyotes. The best bet is to keep pets inside at all times to avoid losing Fifi. Not much is left of a cat or dog that is caught outside by a bunch of coyotes.

I know some coyote hunters who won't run these animals unless there are at least two or more big dogs in the pack. Coyotes, especially in February when males and females are about to breed and are running together, will team up and kill a single hound dog and it's not a pretty sight.

Small dogs are a favorite coyote food. Fewer dogs are taken than cats, but fewer people let their small dogs run loose in the winter. By all that is right, no cat or dog should be left outside after dark. Cats are every bit the predator that a coyote is, but they tend to catch mice and ruffed grouse while coyotes prefer larger prey.

The coyote is a much maligned animal, and over many years when Michigan paid a bounty on coyotes and foxes, the only thing the bounty system proved was that it didn't work. I grew up in Clio, just north of Flint, and we hunted red foxes all winter for the bounty back in the late 1950s.

Bounties on coyotes never worked.

No matter how many fox were taken by the Clio group, and our nearby rivals, the Frankenmuth fox hunters, there were as many or more foxes the next year. The bounty system was a worthless waste of time and taxpayer money.

But i digress. This upcoming hunger moon of January is when coyotes howl and  prowl, and forget about eating mice and other rodents. It's a time when they need food, and lots of it, and it's a time when coyotes begin picking off the elderly and weakened deer.

There is nothing to match the ferocity of a coyote other than a wolf. Fox were once the most popular canine predator in the state. As coyote numbers grew, the fox became fewer in number. In the Upper Peninsula, where wolves are the ultimate apex predator (other than man), coyote numbers are few and fox numbers even less. Wolves will catch and kill coyotes and foxes at every opportunity.

Coyotes often hunt in loose packs until the breeding season begins, and right now the coyote pups born this spring are hunting together with at least the mother as they learn how to drag something down and kill it.

It's easy to tell the approximate age of coyotes by their voices. Young ones yip-yip-yip, and try to howl. The adults can and often howl or yodel as family members gather for the hunt.

Two basic hunting methods.

Hunters take some coyotes, and two primary methods produce. The spot-and-stalk and by calling. Calling is great fun but as more and more people try it, and then move too soon and spook the approaching animals, that coyote gets a fast education. I've had mediocre success calling coyotes.

My favorite hunting method is to drive the roads through relatively open terrain, and spot a coyote. It may be crossing the road, mousing in a field or looking for a spot to bed down. Watch the animal until it circles around before laying down.

Make an upwind stalk, moving slowly and stopping often to keep the bedded coyote in sight, and move again when it lowers its head to nap for a few more minutes. A slow stalk can put the hunter within easy shooting range.

The coyote, much cussed and discussed, is difficult to hunt. Make one mistake, and the coyote will just get smarter and smarter. If it's a challenge you seek, look no further than the coyote. They are plentiful everywhere in the state, including Detroit and its crowded suburbs, but nowhere are there any dumb 'yotes.

A hunter earns every coyote he takes.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Outwitting A Red Fox On Snow

Many years ago there were far more red foxes than coyotes, and one of the things I enjoyed almost every winter day was to cut a fresh red fox track, and take off cross-country on foot along the straight-as-a-string trail.

Once I was driving to my late twin brother George's house, and spotted a fresh track crossing the road a quarter-mile from his house. I stopped, got out of the car, and studied it. The track was smoking hot.

George and I put our heads together, and he felt the fox would probably skirt behind his barn, head off across an open field, hunt those weed fields for mice, and then settle down for a nap atop a clump of uprooted trees a half-mile from his house.

Go slow, look ahead and spot the fox before it sees you.

We took turns doggin’ the fox tracks, and it was his turn. I'd lag behind, check ahead through binoculars, and try to make certain we didn't accidentally bump the critter. We headed out on the hot track, and the fox did cut behind the barn, moved down a hill, and crossed the field.

I glassed the tracks from cover, and lost them near a patch of sumac this side of a fence row 300 yards away, and on the other side of the fence was the tree-tops that would provide a sunny hiding place for a napping fox.

We eased through the field, spotted several areas where the fox had tried for a mouse, but the tracks stay straight until it came to a small knoll, and we bellied up to the edge of the knoll. More fox stalks are blown when people rush to see what is on the other side, and blunder into the fox. Once spooked, the animal will run for a long distance.

My eyes just eased over the top, and I glassed everything within view. The fox was nowhere to be seen, but its tracks cut through the field, into a cluster of sumac bushes near the hill-top, and we couldn't see the tracks beyond there.

We huddled, and whispered back and forth, and felt if the fox wasn't in the sumac, which we didn't believe possible, we'd have a reasonably clear look at the tree-tops. Perhaps the fox was already sunning himself.

I studied the sumac until my eyes watered, and couldn't see any tracks coming out. We had to keep going while we were fairly close to the animal. Stalling now could ruin the hunt if we got too far behind the animal.

Use extreme caution when crossing open fields.

We crossed the open field and approached the sumacs with caution. We could then see the fox tracks heading toward the fence line and the nasty mass of tree-tops scattered about like jackstraws.

"I can see his tracks down to the fence," George whispered. "Check the tree-tops, and see if you can spot him. We'll stick out like two sore thumbs while crossing the field to the fence row if he’s looking this way."

Long minutes were spent glassing the tree-tops before I spotted the reddish-russet color of the bedded fox. He was facing away, directly into the wind, and we formulated a plan. I would give George hand signals, and a palm raised upright meant for him to stop.

He watched a minute or two longer, saw the fox raise his head and check his back trail. We waited until he checked his back trail the second time, and we had five minutes. As soon as his head went down, George stayed low and ran for the fence only 40 yards from the fox.

Know when to move and when to stop.

He eased into place just as the fox's head came up to look around, and when it went down, I moved out. We met at the fence, and George pointed to a hole in the fence that would put him only 25 yards from the fox but he couldn't make a sound getting into position.

The fox looked around again, and when his head went back down, George crawled to the hole, and snaked his way through without making a sound. He had to depend on me now to tell him when the fox raised his head again.

Two minutes later the fox raised his head, and I made one small hand movement to George. He raised his 12 gauge 3-inch magnum, started to aim and the fox stood up when it caught the movement, and with one shot this fox hunt was over.

Stalking a fox is no different than stalking bedded coyotes. Work into the wind, check closely before commiting to a move, and when the stalk leads to a close shot, make it count. It's an exciting way to spend part of a mid-winter day, especially this time of year when foxes and coyotes are nearing the mating season, but not with each other.

The two species are deadly enemies, and a coyote will kill every fox they can catch. One rule hunters can count on: if fox are abundant, there aren't many coyotes around. However, if coyotes are thick, very few fox exist in the area.

If you’re looking for something to do with the abundance of snow in the state right now, try taking on a winter stalk on a coyote or a fox. It’s not necessarily difficult nor is it easy.

Luck comes when the animal starts  dozing.

Catching a break with a snoozing predator is the key ingredient to a successful hunt. Just pay keen attention to the wind, keep it in your face, move only when the animal’s head goes down and don't rush things once you get close to a shot. Trying to hurry leads to mistakes. Use patience and well planned-out moves.

And once within easy range, shoot once, shoot straight and don’t miss.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Gut Instincts Govern My Wilderness Travels

A lifetime spent fishing and hunting has put me in some rather perilous outdoor situations. Some have been caused by my personal stupidity, and some were by events well beyond my control.

That said, it follows that certain circumstances have been somewhat dangerous. All these years, my gut instincts have served me well.

It was opening day of the firearm deer season 35 years ago, and I was hunting in Kalkaska County. I hunted back in a clear-cut with an elevated knob in the middle and fallen tree tops lay in all directions.

My set-up was perfect.

I sensed that 150-yards in all directions was enough for me to cover the entire clear-cut with my pre-1964 .264 Winchester Magnum. I had a little seat on the ground, my back to a tree stump at the top of the knob, and by turning slowly to right or left, I could cover all 360 degrees.

It was late morning, and the first deer I saw was an 8-point buck. I had a solid rest, and the buck came out of the brush and started following the clear-cut edge. It stopped, I aimed, shot and the buck fell but got up and ran into the surrounding brush.

Several minutes were needed to find where the deer was hit, and I began tracking the blood trail. I found the deer with a guy bent over as he started field dressing my buck.

I had an inkling of impending trouble.

I had a funny feeling about this, a thought that niggled at the back of my brain telling me this could be serious. "Hey, partner, I appreciate you field dressing my buck."

"What are you talking about," he said. "I shot it 10 minutes ago."

"Sorry, friend, but only one shot has been fired in this area all morning, and it was fired by me 10 minutes ago when I shot this buck."

One of his buddies stepped out of the brush, casually pointed his rifle midway between me knees and belly button, and muttered: "You got a problem here?"

"My problem is I shot that deer, and your friend is gutting it out, and you are pointing a rifle at a tender part of my anatomy. What's up?"

"You come around here, trying to cause trouble, and you'll find it. My buddy shot that buck, and you're not going to take it away from him. Get out of here or you'll have more trouble than you can handle."

So I lost my buck. Fighting or getting shot over a buck is not something I'm interested in doing. I hope they choked on a rib bone. It also points out that little gut instincts told me this would be a bad deal and it was.

A gentle nudge from somewhere.

Once, also many years ago, some friends and I were hunting those big European hares in southern Ontario. The beagles were on a hot track but the wind was blowing up a gale as I leaned against a dead elm tree.

I kept listening, and occasionally there would come a bawl from a hound, but the jackrabbit detoured around me. The wind continued to howl, and I was considering a move when a gut instinct told me to move ... fast. It was as if God put his hand on my shoulder and urged me from that dead tree.

I found another spot about 20 yards away, and with a loud crack, the crown and 20 feet of tree trunk gave way and crashed down where I'd been standing. Divine intervention? I'd love to think so, but it could have been my gut instincts kicking in. Whichever, it had been a dangerous and scary situation.

Another time, while bow hunting elk in Colorado, we were crossing the spine of the Rockies late at nigh in strong moonlight after a 10-mile hike at a high altitude. There were sheer drop-offs on either side but the game trail seemed well traveled, well worn and safe.

We reached a spot where we had to cross a shale outcropping that pitched off with a 2,000-foot free-fall. We had to cross 20 yards of shale to reach the "shortcut" my guide said came out near his truck. My neck hairs were standing on end. This didn't look or sound like much fun.

We had to cross or spend more time hiking.

"Stay upright, keep your balance and keep moving," he said. "I'll go first, and once I'm across, you come directly toward me. Got it?

I had it but didn't like it. He crossed easily enough and it was my turn. One slip, and a 2,000-foot plunge would ruin my day. I started across, and halfway to the guide, the shale slipped under one foot. I lurched a bit to get straightened up, and managed to keep my feet moving.

The trip across that shale was scary but I made it to the other side, and the guide was reaching out for me when I got close. It was a shortcut, and saved us another two or three miles of mountain hiking in the dark.

I've learned to trust my instincts in outdoor situations, and they have done well by me. Getting tuned in to nature, and knowing your personal capabilities, has kept me going. However, if my instincts scream at me "Don't do i!", I turn around and find another route.

Two rules have always governed my wilderness travels: Don't mess with Mother Nature, and never second-guess your gut instincts.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors