The call came in Thursday, as my friends and I were enjoying some end of the school week beers at the local alehouse. “The rut in on, you better get up here.” My dad says as they were on the way to the processor with a 9 pointer anyone would be tickled with harvesting. I had previously declined the invitation to hunt Flint River Farms this particular weekend, as the pressures from my senior year at FSU were keeping me fully occupied on the weekends. I spent the next hour contemplating the pros and cons of cutting out of town. There were numerous legitimate reasons to stay in town, but it was not going to happen. Having the opportunity to observe whitetails in full on mating behavior is a rare sight that many hunters only dream of, I was not going to pass this up.
I arrived to FRF Friday a few minutes after dark, and was greeted by my father, hunt master Don Braddock, and Billy Hamilton. Tommy Elis would be arriving sometime before dinner. As the previous hunt was recapped my ears burred and my eyes lit up, everyone saw deer, lots of deer…they’re really moving, and within 12 hours I’d be out there logging in my first morning of the year. We all enjoyed a wonderful dinner, and the wine flowed. As the evening was winding down, my nerves were cranking up; I didn’t realize how much I have missed the camaraderie, and the unmistakable aura that entails the hunting camp. I felt like a young child waiting for Santa Clause as I tried to make myself get a few hours of sleep. This was my Christmas Eve, and sleep would not be plentiful.
Finally, the house began to awake at 4:30 AM. I layered my clothing as the temperature was reading just above 40. After coffee and checking the wind, dad and I were off in complete darkness, to a destination unknown to myself. I was put in a field known as “upper.” The first hint of daybreak was met with me frantically glassing the field with my binoculars. I spent the next 30 minutes checking and double-checking every deer-like bush making sure big boy wasn’t out there enjoying the comfort the darkness brings. As the sky lightened up the fog rolled in, making it difficult to see over 100 yards. The morning was picture perfect. I managed to see a dozen deer, with one young buck putting on a show chasing a group of does back a forth, belching out loud grunts with every step he took.
Back to the camp for a quick breakfast, and back in the woods for a mid-morning sit. I opted for a stand that many would never contemplate sitting, a little funnel that sat not 100 yards from a public hard road. The temperatures warmed and the deer were elusive. Our mid-morning efforts led to a big goose egg for sightings.
CONTINUED ON 53D PART 2
