Randy and “The Peek-A-Boo Spike”.

Shortly after e-mailing the story and picture of the Buck in “Rattled In” to my youngest son, Randy, he called me and quickly let me know that he wanted me to rattle one up for him. Agreeing just as quick, but reminding him that “rattling” was not a 100% deal and a lot of things wind, time of the rut and deer activity had to come together for success, so we agreed on Saturday, December 2 for our hunt. Randy is a Baptist Minister in San Marcos, Texas, and his hunting time is limited, but since I’m retired, working my schedule into his is not a problem.

The second phase of the rut was about a week off, but for the past several days there had been some buck movement on my place, which is five miles southwest of Goldthwaite, so our timing might be good after all. Randy and I had both gotten in just before midnight, he from San Marcos and me from Stephenville, where Goldthwaite had lost an Area Round game in the Class A state football playoffs. We were in no mood for an early morning hunt and since the moon was almost full, we decided to go out around 1:00 PM and try our luck.

Randy decided that we, Randy, his eleven year old son, Austin and I, would hunt first in the southwest corner of my ranch close to where, the day before around lunch time, I had seen a nice buck. We silently approached “The Tripod Blind” and Randy climbed up on to the seat that was surrounded by lightweight camo netting, making him nearly invisible, while Austin and I chose a comfortable seat inside of the Oak Shinnery. We were 95% hidden and after a fifteen minute wait I began “rattling”. Nothing. Another wait, more “rattling”. Nothing. Austin was fast asleep. Another wait, more “rattling”. Nothing.

It was after 2:00 PM and Randy wanted to try one more place about a quarter of a mile away. I said, “Fine,” Austin said, “I’m going back to the house and take a nap.” Our time was short since we had to be finished and get cleaned up by 5:00 PM so we could go and see Goldthwaite’s annual “Parade Of Lights” and attend the Lions Club pancake supper, which left us with little time to “rattle” up a Buck,

Moving carefully to “Poppy’s Blind”, Randy climbed into the camouflaged tree stand and I squirmed into some thick brush and after a ten minute wait, began “rattling”. Nothing. Another wait, more “rattling”. Randy whispers down to me, and since I had my game ears in, heard him say, “Dad, I see a Deer, grunt and rattle again.” Which I did. Nothing, but I look up and see Randy tense up and Bam! His .243 Remington 660 barked and Randy said, “I got him and he is down and not moving!” I reply, “Good shot! I guess we don’t need Spike (my Dog) this to find this one.”

We waited for five minutes and walked the one hundred yards down to the Deer, and not what I had expected, there lay a dead spike. He had heard the “rattling” and was trying to sneak off with a doe while the two bucks were fighting. I was surprised, having heard of spikes coming in to “rattling”, but had not seen it before. I can only hope I don’t rattle up a big cat!

Walking back to the house to get the Jeep, Randy described the past event, saying, “The second time you “rattled” I was half-dozing and to my left I thought I saw a Deer peeking around a cedar tree toward the sounds. You stopped and it peeked around again. I didn’t see it for a couple of minutes so I told you to repeat the process and then I see him about one hundred yards to my front peeking around some buck brush and I can make out his spikes. He makes a fatal error and steps out from behind the brush and “bam”, down he goes, right in his tracks!”

While Randy is preparing his deer, my wife, Layla, Austin, and his sister, Rebekah, and I get ready in time for the pancake supper and parade. Randy is taking the Deer to a processor in New Braunfels and is having it turned into German dry sausage. He says he will give me some.

Brad and our rattled in buck.

On Nov. 11, 2006 my son Brad and I went out at 12:15 PM to try and rattle up a buck. He is active duty military stationed at Ft. Hood and I am retired and own a ranch five miles southwest of Goldthwaite, Texas. The little cool snap we had just enjoyed and the first quarter of the new moon had triggered heavy buck movement in our area, and we believed that mid-day offered the best opportunity.

Brad had the first shot this day since he had not shot a Deer in almost three years. One of those years being spent in Iraq and the other eighteen months being taken up with surgery, chemotherapy and radiation to remove a Stage 4 tumor from his right tonsil. He has been cancer free for the past twenty-four months! Praise the Lord!

Brad had decided on a tree stand in some real thick oak and cedar, in the back of the property. My spot was in a concealed area at the base of the tree that held the stand. The thick cover dictated the weapon he would use. His choice was an iron sight, Springfield M1903, 30-06 Cal rifle, that he had hand picked from the racks of the Civilian Marksmanship Program, in Anniston, Alabama. I’ll add here that Brad is an excellent rifle shot, having been a member of the Army’s Rifle Team.

We parked the jeep about a quarter of a mile from the stand and began a very slow, careful walk/sneak into our chosen hunting spot. On the way in we saw no Deer, and when we reached the stand, Brad climbed up into it and I scrooched down and made me a comfortable spot on the ground. Checking my watch, I saw it was 12:35 PM.

Sitting under the tree stand, the excitement building, I waited for fifteen minutes and then began rattling and whacking the brush with the horns, while making fighting sounds with my feet scraping the ground. Since I was in a very concealed position, I could make this movement without being detected. Keeping up the rattling for about thirty seconds, I stopped and everything went back to being very quiet.

Fifteen minutes later, 1:05 PM, I performed the same rattling tactic as earlier. Not twenty seconds after I had stopped the rattling, there was a small sound of movement above me in the stand, then “Gruuunt!” from Brad, and “Bam” the ‘03 barked! Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Deer running in a tight circle, dropping and then getting up and heading off into the brush. That’s a new one I thought.

Jumping up the ladder, I whispered, “You got him!” and he replied, in a normal tone, “Yes sir, but it was pretty thick where I shot him and I think my shot was deflected by some twigs.” Walking over to the spot of the shot, not twenty yards from the tree stand, we found a lot of blood and not forty yards away, we saw the deer, down, still alive, but not moving. Brad walked over to the Deer and finished him with his knife.

Brad had not seen my Miniature Dachshund, Spike, track a downed deer, so we walked back to the Jeep to go and get the dog and Brad said, “The second you stopped the rattling, the Deer stepped out from behind the cover by the edge of the trail and looked straight at the source of the noise. I froze and couldn’t raise my rifle, but as he circled behind some thick brush, I raised the rifle and was ready for him. He was moving to my left when I grunted and he stopped behind a mesquite and I thought I had a good, clear shot, but I’m sure the round was deflected slightly by a limb or twig. Funny thing, when I shot him, he hopped and then made two complete circles before he took off into the brush.” This was a new one for both of us.

We picked up Spike and drove back almost to the tree stand, stopped the Jeep, let Spike down and I said, “Find the Deer, Spike!” He started circling looking for a blood trail and after several minutes found the spot where the Deer was shot and, in short order, tracked along the blood trail, right to it. Brad thought I had been kidding about Spike’s tracking ability. Even though each Deer he has found has been dead (and marked), there will be a time when we can’t find one and Spike’s nose will prove invaluable!

Meeting my oldest son, Brad, in Lampassas, early yesterday morning to accompany him to visit his oncologist (more to come on this) at the Lackland AFB hospital in San Antonio, we get a call at 8:00 AM from my youngest Son, Randy, that he has just scored on a nice Deer, a 11 pointer.

Excitedly, he relates the event, “Running late, I drove to near “The Scaffold Blind”, parked and quietly climbed into it and two does were feeding on the scattered corn and not 5 minutes after sitting down, a nice buck crossed the narrow opening behind the corn feeder. Trying to stop the buck, I grunted, “Grunttt,” but the Deer in question kept moving into the brush.”

“To my surprise, not 40 yards away, from out of the thick brush, pops 2 bucks. I see one’s rack is outside of his ears and as he is posturing around looking for the “grunter”, I nail him with a shot right through his heart! Down he flops and taking several deep breaths, I climb out of the stand to admire my prize.”

Randy’s Deer. A nice one! Randy, my Grandson, Sean and Spike, the wonder dog, proudly display the 11 pointer!

Randy shot a good one and I guess it shows that the “old man” doesn’t have to be around, but it does show that he was trained right and he’s training his Son right!

After enjoying our respective Church services this morning, my son, Randy, and I had a “fun” hunt this afternoon! Randy is Pastor of the Fellowship Of San Marcos, Baptist Church, in San Marcos, Texas.

Randy wanted to hunt “Poppy’s Blind”, so at 5:00 PM, we headed out. We were late because we both had forgotten about daylight savings time. We had remembered it and set our clocks back, but got to talking and the time just flew by us.

“Sneaking” into “Poppy’s Blind”, sure enough, 2 does were nibbling at the corn on the ground and as Randy tried to get into position, out came a spike on his right. The spike sensed trouble, wheeled and trotted off. When he left the 2 does followed suit.

Randy climbed into the blind and I found a hidden spot and 5 minutes later began rattling. Out came a large doe and her 2 yearlings and began eating. Soon a 4 pointer comes out just as I rattled again. He looked up, paid no attention, and kept eating. A 10 minute wait and I rattled again and the 4 pointer “bulks up”, tries to act like a big Deer, and comes right on in. No shooting, of course.

More rattling, but no shooters came in and near dark we headed back to the Jeep. It is supposed to rain this Tuesday, and maybe, this will trigger the rut?. It is 5 or 6 days until the last quarter of the Moon, maybe then?

More to come.

Our central Texas Deer season opens in a few days and I think a post and picture of a very, unappearing, successful hunt would be quite appropriate.

Better Late Than Never

My “second rut” buck!

Having retired to my ranch in Goldthwaite, Texas, the previous May, I was looking forward to, and planning on a “bang-up” Deer season, but as Robert Burns, the Scottish poet said, “Sometimes our plans falter and go astray.” I had spotted some real nice bucks before the season, but the first rut had ended without me getting a clear shot.

Getting out of bed early the Friday after Thanksgiving, Nov. 28, it was raining copiously and I decided to sleep in, telling myself that I would try hunting around noon. Noon found me climbing into “Poppy’s Stand” stand that was near a corn feeder and a well used Deer trail. Of course, as I climbed into the stand, the seat had caught some water from the rain, finding me without even a hankie.

Roughing it, I plop into the wet seat and very soon my rear has soaked up the water. Thank goodness it is 80 degrees now. Looking back, that year our temperature didn’t get to freezing until just before Christmas.

Not 5 minutes after I settle down, a young doe comes bouncing down the trail and following her is an equally young 6 pointer, not an option, but, maybe, the second phase of the rut is beginning. Maybe today will be the day.

For some reason, I had left my rattling horns at home, but I did have my grunt call looped around my neck, and the next thing I know, trotting out of the thick brush, is a nice buck.
A quick glance/study and I see that his nose seems to be too short and he has some size. His neck is swollen and his legs look short. Checking his horns, which aren’t that heavy, I see they are well past his ears.

Raising my Ruger .270 to my shoulder and holding it up with my left hand, he’s still trotting along the trail when I let him have a grrrrunt! He stops and looks directly at me and the .270 booms and the buck hops and takes off.

He is hit solid and after a 15 minute wait, I track him for 50 yards and see he is down for good. I head back to the ranch house to get Spike, our Dachshund, so he can get some more practice tracking a downed Deer. He “noses” right to the buck and begins his ritual of guarding him, keeping all of the onlookers but my wife, Layla, away.

Today’s hunt will be well remembered, but its funny how quickly we forget the hours and hours of preparation and wet britches that we endure.

Bradley is another successful youth, Deer hunter!

On Sunday afternoon Bradley decided we would hunt in our “Guest Blind” on the eastern part of my ranch. This was a new, spacious, elevated blind with a feeder 100 yards to its north. We climbed in and got ready, opening the windows and loading his gun. An adult must accompany the youth on the hunt, but the adult can’t do any of the shooting and can’t carry a rifle.

Does and yearlings came to the feeder and did not display the jitters we were used to seeing later in the season and finally out came a spike and a four pointer, neither of them being a “shooter”. More does and yearlings, but nothing “big”.

After about an hour, a glance to the left and I saw a nice, big buck in the brush by the edge of a trail. Leaning over and pointing to the left I said to Bradley, “There’s a shooter by the edge of the trail.” I leaned back in my chair as Bradley tried to get his .270 out of the window and line up the Deer. No luck. The buck didn’t tarry long and moved back into the thick stuff. A missed opportunity! “Maybe later,” I murmured under my breath.

With 30 minutes to go before the end of shooting time, I was apprehensive that we wouldn’t get Bradley a Deer. Then, right up to the feeder comes a 6 pointer but not big enough and behind him a nice 8. We both have our binocs on him and see his horns are outside of his ears and have good height, but not much mass.

Bradley whispers, “Poppy, should I shoot?” And I reply, “No, let’s wait a minute.” The Deer feeds leisurely on the corn with us watching him intently through our binocs and, as the Deer walks off, I think to myself that this is a marginal shooter but it will really be a good one next year, but that is a long way off. Finally the Grandfather in me takes over and I whisper to Bradley, “Go ahead and take him!”

Sliding his .270 out of the window, Bam, the buck hops, takes 2 steps and down he goes! A good shot! We wait for 10, or so, minutes with no movement from the Deer, unload his rifle, climb down out of the blind and go and inspect his prize.

It could have been a bigger spread, but, once again, the objectives of our states youth hunt program have been met, with success!

Colton is very happy, youth hunter!

The last week of October 2004, was comfortable, not hot and sweaty warm as Colton and I climbed into our famous “Scaffold Blind” that some call an elevated contraption. It is ideal for young hunters since it has plenty of room for 2 people and 2 real comfortable chairs. Only one drawback, it has no roof. As we say, “If its not raining, you won’t get wet.”

Texas hunting law enables hunters to feed or bait Deer and there was a feeder 95 yards south of the Scaffold Blind, tucked into a clearing along several Deer trails. That afternoon we watched several does and yearlings feed on the corn that was on the ground, and to our surprise, a Red Fox trotted not 20 feet in front of the blind. We both wondered what the Fox was doing out this early?

We knew the does would hang around and Colton could take one for “camp meat”, but he was holding out for a nice buck. I’m watching/dozing as Colton whispers, “Poppy, I see a real nice Deer!” “Where, son” I reply? Keeping his hand under the blind’s window he points toward a nearby mesquite tree and sure enough, tucked into the tree is a very nice buck, but I’m afraid there’s too many branches for a clear shot, then Colton says, “Poppy, I can hit him in the neck right below his chin.” I reply, “If you’re sure, take him!”

Bam, Colton’s .257 Roberts barks, and the Deer crumples in his tracks! Colton had hit him dead center! A fine shot!

“Poppy, I got him,” he said as he jumped up to go and admire his feat, but I told him, “Boy, let’s give the Deer 10 or 15 minutes and make sure he’s done.”

The objective of the youth hunt was fulfilled in Colton’s case. The boy shot a nice buck, received proper training from an adult and will be a successful, careful hunter the rest of his life.

A new ranch rule was also established, the next buck he takes, must be bigger than this one!