As I watched the light slowly fade slowly away on this, the last day of the 2015 hunting season, I reflected with bittersweet melancholy over my time afield over the past few months. It is almost always so for me, all else has been cast aside for this – my main pursuit, my main interest – for weeks upon weeks now. And although I thoroughly Enjoyed and am extremely Appreciative of My Time out there, I cannot help but feeling a little wistful that it now ends, and always harbor a not so secretive desire that somehow it might continue…
This, as most years, had it’s ups and downs for me. I was fortunate enough to spend two weeks with a Great Buddy infield – pursuing the magnificent Mule Deer of Southern Alberta with a bow. This hunt rekindled a lengthy Friendship within which our time together had been sorely lacking. That re-connection alone was extremely satisfying, at the end of which we vowed to never let circumstances prevent such a precious commodity from being realized each and every fall as the future unfolds. That hunt also rekindled my love affair with the Badlands of Alberta, and the amazing amount of Life that it harbors, something else that had been missing from my life for far too long. And it culminated in a rather fine bow shot resulting in the harvest of the largest deer I have ever taken with stick and string. All in all, some very fine memories to carry with me until the next time…
The Blacktail season on the Island was not quite as I’d expected due to a myriad of complications. I had become foolishly complacent with this hunt due to so many previous years’ successes, and so allowed “other things” to get in the way of my usual Due Diligence. The lack of pre-season scouting, the lack of trail cam plantings and reviews, and the lack of concern all came with a price. By the time the rut came around, I was barely getting started, and the lack of encounters with mature bucks soon had the first inklings of alarm building in my subconscious…
Then, one particular evening when a decent buck did show at my blind, my right eye decided to present a horrifying complication. The dark swirling mass that prevented me from taking the shot was soon diagnosed to be somewhat temporary. Thankful indeed that was the case, but extremely concerned that the season would fade away before it could rectify itself…
Through the period the eye recovered, several good bucks were taken by Buddies, and although I was Happy for them, their successes only aggravated the Angst I felt as each valuable hunting day rolled by.
Finally and against the SawBones’ orders, I simply HAD to go. Taking a Young Gun in hand, I lived vicariously through his successful harvest of his very first Blacktail! Thoroughly enjoyed that hunt, even more so than if I had taken the buck myself!
Letting the next week slip by was Painful! But, as I planned for the upcoming mainland bow hunt with another Great Friend, I contented myself with the knowledge that the eye was getting better, and by the time this late hunt rolled around I would be Good To Go. So, planning continued, and my gear was subject to tinkering and fondling many many times over…
Sadly, the day before we were to depart for the mainland, a dreadful situation developed with my Partner’s home situation. The extremely heavy rains that had many areas sandbagging to control the influx of flood waters attacked his house with a vengeance. Two sump pumps at full roar barely kept up, and the forecast called for much more heavy sky-water. The end result was that we had to cancel the trip for the late archery hunts. I was damn near in tears when that decision was finally made…
Recognizing the rut was over for the local Blacktails, I knew I would be facing a rather tough go to dig any out of the woodwork. But, there was a week and change of season left, and I committed myself fully to that task. Day after day I was up well before light, sneaking through the mountain’s woods, or waiting patiently in a blind. And day after day I returned home well after dark – most often with a smile over the day’s activities, but still with an increasing sense of impending gloom as each day resulted in fewer and fewer encounters. One day last week I unexpectedly ran into a young buck with ~ 8-10 inch spikes. No “Trophy” by any means, but the only set of antlers I had seen in a considerable time that weren’t nocturnally recorded on my trail cams. Although I would pass most years, under these circumstances I did not. And I feel no remorse for doing so as he is indeed delicious.
Then, but a handful of days ago I jumped a huge mature Blacktail buck when still hunting solo. He did not present a shot, but I now had an idea where to concentrate my efforts. Several days into that effort, it became more than apparent he had vacated that mountain – I had simply pushed him too hard. With barely a couple days left in the season, a fine 2 point that had not left that mountain decided to join his spike buddy in our freezer. He two is rather fine eating.
The last few days I decided to take a doe. The areas that are open for such had been well pounded, and I realized quickly that any attempts at stalking / still hunting were likely fruitless. So I re-set a few of the blinds, and took to the patient sit within them. Despite many other encounters, the old Grey Gal which had appeared so many times when I was not targeting her refused to show. She has been “dry” for three years now, and thus I considered her to be my main target. Many of her sisters and their kids crossed my path, all within easy bow range, and not a shot was contemplated. I simply will not take a wet doe, and any bambi may well be a good future buck, so they get the pass as well.
That brings me around to where this lengthy post started. Sitting in the blind as the light fades on the last day of the season – reflecting on the Fine Adventures and the ups and downs this year brought, and wistfully harboring a not so secret desire that it might somehow continue…
In many ways it was a Great Season. For that I am once again very Thankful! And the not-so-great moments largely provided yet another Learning Curve as to what to avoid and how to plan for the future. Seems even old experienced dogs need the occasional reminder to pay attention to those details as well.
Today I awoke hours before dawn, and set about readying my equipment to head out the door once again. Sudden realization set in – it’s Over. Done. Kaput. As I ready to clean my guns and bow, I cannot help but wonder how many times I will awake early, how many weeks it will take, before my “Inner System” accepts this as fact…
Cheers,
Nog
