Just got back from my trip home. What a real blessing it was to be there hunting the old farm again. It was fantastic. I hunted 4.5 days...saw some nice "jumpers" (local slang for WT deer) but no real wall hangers. They were around though...the big guy that left this print is becoming something of a local legend.
(That's not a travel sized tube of pit-stick either)
Our neighbours sons have been after him for 6 years now all bow and rifle season and have yet to get a shot at him.
My second day there I spent the morning attempting without sucess to sneak up on a small clover field just north of our farm where I had seen a nice 8pt the previous morining. It was a partial success - the buck was there alright, but this time was on the far side of the field, with 200yds of open hay field between us. Had I been rifle hunting - game over. But I wasn't, so game on.
Early on I found this smoking spot - a classic funnel created by a seasonal creek separating two hay fields. Sign was everywhere...scrapes, rubs, trails...clearly several bucks were moving through here regularly. I had seen 2 shooters from distance checking/making scrapes near the funnel and was dying to set up on it. Except I needed a northerly wind to hunt it and...preferably a North easter, but anything from the north was workable. Unfortunately the wind stubbornly refused to cooperate and stayed southerly or westerly. Friday I got my chance as the wind swung around from the NW...but someone forgot to tell the bucks to show up. The next day, the wind was back from the south and stayed that way for the rest of my hunt. Such is hunting. Too bad. It was a beauty spot:
Before I left my wife informed me that if I was too fussy holding out for a trophy rack and failed to return with deer meat - there would definitely be a head stuffed and mounted above the fireplace. I had seen some decent bucks just out of range, and passed on a forkhorn earlier in the week. BUt now time was running out. On Saturday I was hunting one of my favourite spots - a pine-forested series of low sandy ridges called the sandhills. We own 160 acres of hay field bordering the south edge of this tract of crown land. I have never failed to see deer in here, and Saturday was no exception. It was may last day in the field, and at 1000 this girl offered me an easy 25yd shot.
It's not what most people come to Sask for, but I'll take it. I was just glad to be there. Thanks to the Lord and my wife for enabling and allowing this fantastic opportunity.