Annie's Buck
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Annie's Buck
As stories go, this one is like most. It has a beginning, middle and an end. One might consider it unremarkable by most standards of judgment. But I will leave that task up to you. It would be presumptuous of me to do other wise.
The beginning was a well rehearsed ritual of traveling from my house to a funnel between two separate groves of White Oaks located on Doc's place. Doc owns the land that adjoins my land. He is my hunting partner, trap shooting partner, primary care physician and general all around best friend. I have accomplished the passage to the funnel many times over the years, most times without the aid of artificial light be it after dusk or before dawn. The big Ash tree just off the funnel trail that I climb with the Viper is like an old colleague. We know each other well. Each year we spend many hours together as the sweet acorns fall.
The funnel is my early season choice of hunting spots. I seldom see the buck I want to kill at this spot when the White Oaks are providing a bounty of tasty treats. It does not matter. What does matter is the experience of the new season with all the hope and expectations in front of me. It is a celebration if you will; a renewing of my time of year. It is the beginning of a four month journey to an uncertain end. As I age the journey becomes more difficult due to the physical demands. These demands are accomplished, they must be. But the price I pay for these accomplishments increases with each year. Call it "physical inflation" for lack of a better term. I pay the inflated price without complaint. It is one of the few payments in life that I relish.
I sat in the big Ash this Thursday morning waiting for the arrival of the new day and all was right with the world. The first hunt of the new season is Christmas, birthdays and every other significant event of the year all rolled up into one. It is a day to be savored. It will not happen again for another three hundred and sixty-five days. Every moment of the hunt must be tallied. The number of opening season hunts once seemed endless. Now, not so much as the final opening season looms in the not to distant future. I would enjoy this morning to the fullest. I will watch with the wonderment of a young child as the new season before me is born in the deer woods below. And I am reborn along with it.
As I mentioned, to some the beginning would be unremarkable. To me it was extraordinary. Even in the lean light of first dawn I noticed how well I could see. The drought here in Southern Ohio has taken its toll. The vegetation was thin and your vision into the woods was greater then most years when the plants were green with color and robust with leaves. I thought this to be advantageous to my position between the Oak groves. I surmised that the deer would be hitting the mast crop with vigor as the salad bowl normally served this time of year with all the lush plants was lacking. The next two hours proved my theory correct as deer traveled the well worn funnel path in large numbers. I saw doe's with fawns and old barren nanny's pass with frequency under and within twenty yards of the Viper. I saw young bucks of various size, both body and antler. I even watched turkey flocks and marveled as I do each year how this year's polts are nearly the size of their mothers. And at nine-thirty I saw him. Annie's buck was coming through the funnel.
My wife Annika hunted this buck the entire 2009/2010 season. She missed a shot at him last year at thirty yards. She had two other meetings with him during the season but had not been presented with a shot opportunity. She never really came to terms with putting that arrow right under him last year. It was a shot she should have made. And she knew it. I know she replayed the miss a million times during and after the season. She used the miss for fuel. She is a competitor and does not like to lose at anything. Don't get me wrong; when she does lose she is gracious. But you will be hard pressed to beat her again at the same game.
If anything the big ten point was more impressive this year then last. His rack was identical in every way save one from the crown he wore last year. He had gained mass. And lots of it! I consider myself a pretty fair country judge of antler inches as I have scored untold numbers of racks. This buck added twenty inches of antler from last year. He would easily move into the rare atmosphere of one hundred and sixty inches. His bases were the size of beer cans. And he was walking directly towards me.
"I saw your buck this morning" I said between sips of the freshly brewed coffee sitting on the breakfast room table. She raised her eyes from the food section of the Cincinnati Enquirer spread out before her on that same table. She said nothing but her expression said "Do tell?" "He came down Doc's funnel at nine-thirty. He has really added some mass from last year, I bet he might go 165 or higher" I continued. Her eyes narrowed as she studied me. She was pondering this announcement. Finally she asked what I knew she could not resist. "And da buck did not come close enough fer de shot" she quizzed in her Swedlish hybrid butchering of the kings English. "No, he didn't stay on the path and give me a shot" I replied. She knew I was lying. She always does.
"I don know if ya telling me how much you love me or ya telling me you know I would kill ya if ya killed der buck" she said not really finding the need to phrase the words and connotation in the form of a question.
"Annie, I am telling you how much I love you" I replied.
I just failed to mention that I didn't want to sleep with one eye open for the remainder of the season.
The beginning was a well rehearsed ritual of traveling from my house to a funnel between two separate groves of White Oaks located on Doc's place. Doc owns the land that adjoins my land. He is my hunting partner, trap shooting partner, primary care physician and general all around best friend. I have accomplished the passage to the funnel many times over the years, most times without the aid of artificial light be it after dusk or before dawn. The big Ash tree just off the funnel trail that I climb with the Viper is like an old colleague. We know each other well. Each year we spend many hours together as the sweet acorns fall.
The funnel is my early season choice of hunting spots. I seldom see the buck I want to kill at this spot when the White Oaks are providing a bounty of tasty treats. It does not matter. What does matter is the experience of the new season with all the hope and expectations in front of me. It is a celebration if you will; a renewing of my time of year. It is the beginning of a four month journey to an uncertain end. As I age the journey becomes more difficult due to the physical demands. These demands are accomplished, they must be. But the price I pay for these accomplishments increases with each year. Call it "physical inflation" for lack of a better term. I pay the inflated price without complaint. It is one of the few payments in life that I relish.
I sat in the big Ash this Thursday morning waiting for the arrival of the new day and all was right with the world. The first hunt of the new season is Christmas, birthdays and every other significant event of the year all rolled up into one. It is a day to be savored. It will not happen again for another three hundred and sixty-five days. Every moment of the hunt must be tallied. The number of opening season hunts once seemed endless. Now, not so much as the final opening season looms in the not to distant future. I would enjoy this morning to the fullest. I will watch with the wonderment of a young child as the new season before me is born in the deer woods below. And I am reborn along with it.
As I mentioned, to some the beginning would be unremarkable. To me it was extraordinary. Even in the lean light of first dawn I noticed how well I could see. The drought here in Southern Ohio has taken its toll. The vegetation was thin and your vision into the woods was greater then most years when the plants were green with color and robust with leaves. I thought this to be advantageous to my position between the Oak groves. I surmised that the deer would be hitting the mast crop with vigor as the salad bowl normally served this time of year with all the lush plants was lacking. The next two hours proved my theory correct as deer traveled the well worn funnel path in large numbers. I saw doe's with fawns and old barren nanny's pass with frequency under and within twenty yards of the Viper. I saw young bucks of various size, both body and antler. I even watched turkey flocks and marveled as I do each year how this year's polts are nearly the size of their mothers. And at nine-thirty I saw him. Annie's buck was coming through the funnel.
My wife Annika hunted this buck the entire 2009/2010 season. She missed a shot at him last year at thirty yards. She had two other meetings with him during the season but had not been presented with a shot opportunity. She never really came to terms with putting that arrow right under him last year. It was a shot she should have made. And she knew it. I know she replayed the miss a million times during and after the season. She used the miss for fuel. She is a competitor and does not like to lose at anything. Don't get me wrong; when she does lose she is gracious. But you will be hard pressed to beat her again at the same game.
If anything the big ten point was more impressive this year then last. His rack was identical in every way save one from the crown he wore last year. He had gained mass. And lots of it! I consider myself a pretty fair country judge of antler inches as I have scored untold numbers of racks. This buck added twenty inches of antler from last year. He would easily move into the rare atmosphere of one hundred and sixty inches. His bases were the size of beer cans. And he was walking directly towards me.
"I saw your buck this morning" I said between sips of the freshly brewed coffee sitting on the breakfast room table. She raised her eyes from the food section of the Cincinnati Enquirer spread out before her on that same table. She said nothing but her expression said "Do tell?" "He came down Doc's funnel at nine-thirty. He has really added some mass from last year, I bet he might go 165 or higher" I continued. Her eyes narrowed as she studied me. She was pondering this announcement. Finally she asked what I knew she could not resist. "And da buck did not come close enough fer de shot" she quizzed in her Swedlish hybrid butchering of the kings English. "No, he didn't stay on the path and give me a shot" I replied. She knew I was lying. She always does.
"I don know if ya telling me how much you love me or ya telling me you know I would kill ya if ya killed der buck" she said not really finding the need to phrase the words and connotation in the form of a question.
"Annie, I am telling you how much I love you" I replied.
I just failed to mention that I didn't want to sleep with one eye open for the remainder of the season.
Last edited by Mike P on Thu Sep 30, 2010 4:21 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Annie's Buck
I had wondered what became of that buck, if your wife had managed to get him. Good to see you posting again Mike P!!
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Re: Annie's Buck
That was good! I enjoyed that. I'm glad you did what you did. Now I can leave for my hunting weekend. Thanks for sharing, Mike!!
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Re: Annie's Buck
Awesome story!
Mike
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Re: Annie's Buck
Balance has once again been restored.
Welcome back Mike, and congratulations to Annika, we all knew it was her buck anyways.
My 2010 season just got a little better.
Welcome back Mike, and congratulations to Annika, we all knew it was her buck anyways.
My 2010 season just got a little better.
If you are not willing to learn, nobody can help you, if you are willing, nobody can stop you.
A bowhunter with a passion for shooting firearms.
WMU 91
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A bowhunter with a passion for shooting firearms.
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Re: Annie's Buck
something finally good enough to read on here hahhaha
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Re: Annie's Buck
Good read Mike P.!
Either you didn't get a shot or you have the horns in the shed somewhere.
Either you didn't get a shot or you have the horns in the shed somewhere.
I'd rather wear out than rust out.
Perception trumps intention.
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Perception trumps intention.
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20" Easton Powerbolts w/125gr Trophy Ridge Stricknines & 2"Blazers
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2006 Vixen
Re: Annie's Buck
Mike, can you share a story or two about some of the other bucks seen on your trail cameras this summer and early fall? Doc, Shrader and yourself must have spent many evenings viewing the photos while jostling for position to hunt this years mass, points and inches. Do you have a favourite this year?
I read this just one day before our Ontario deer opener and your post could not have come at a better time to boost moral, already today I have one very excited forum member from here leave my a heart pounding phone message about tomorrows exciting hunt. It will be the end of October before my requested vacation time arrives to hunt, it will be a lengthy wait. I wish Annie a very succesful hunt in 2010.
"Now Annie ya go to dat funnel and sit yourself quiet in da tree and kill dat der nice buck"
Have you found the space yet to mount it?
Oh, and Mike, the love will be returned if I may address your first opening sentences. Maybe just not the way you might think. It might require that you bring the quad and gutting knife.
I read this just one day before our Ontario deer opener and your post could not have come at a better time to boost moral, already today I have one very excited forum member from here leave my a heart pounding phone message about tomorrows exciting hunt. It will be the end of October before my requested vacation time arrives to hunt, it will be a lengthy wait. I wish Annie a very succesful hunt in 2010.
"Now Annie ya go to dat funnel and sit yourself quiet in da tree and kill dat der nice buck"
Have you found the space yet to mount it?
Oh, and Mike, the love will be returned if I may address your first opening sentences. Maybe just not the way you might think. It might require that you bring the quad and gutting knife.
Last edited by Normous on Thu Sep 30, 2010 5:54 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Annie's Buck
Great story Mike. I am really glad to see you back. I have missed your posts.
Bob
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Re: Annie's Buck
Wow, what a great read.
You sir have a way with words. That story had a great flow to it.
I hope your wife nails that bad boy.
You sir have a way with words. That story had a great flow to it.
I hope your wife nails that bad boy.
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Re: Annie's Buck
Mike P, you wrote another good story & you have that gift. Glad to hear from you & now you can sleep easy as Annie can take up her hunt again.
Re: Annie's Buck
I did enjoy the tale. well written. That might even tear at the heart of a PETA wannnabe.
The leaves are falling here real fast, had a hard frost about a week ago. This year was so wet and the field grass is quite tall. Think it was a primo year for antler development.
Can start looking tomorrow !!!!!!!!!!
The leaves are falling here real fast, had a hard frost about a week ago. This year was so wet and the field grass is quite tall. Think it was a primo year for antler development.
Can start looking tomorrow !!!!!!!!!!
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Re: Annie's Buck
Great story Mike, I truely enjoyed reading every word of this story and your other stories, then I go back and read them a second time because its such a well written story that comes from the heart. Really glad to be reading your posts again.
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