Another season has come and gone, and this year, I didn't get a buck. Not that I didn't have the opportunity, as it seems as every single time I walked up back behind my house, they were running every which way as soon as they smelled my funky sweat, as I huffed and puffed up the hill. Usually by the time I reached the old sugar shack, the sweat was pouring off me, and the wind always blows my scent straight at them.
The only deer that I knowingly jumped, but didn't see, was that sneaky little deer who led me around in circles.
However, I enjoyed chasing them around, and certainly enjoyed being in the woods, as I always do. The only problem seems to be that whenever there are lots of deer around, I can't seem to recruit anyone to help me.
My friend Doug, who lives right around the hill from me, says that he a pack of coy-dogs, up near the beaver dam close to the county line. He said that suddenly the entire ground seemed to be moving, and it gave him the 'willies', which didn't make him feel any better when he realized that they were a pack of wild dogs, or wolves, or whatever these critters are.
I've heard them occasionally. Doug tells me that they moved in about a year ago or so. Across the lake, we hear them all the time, yipping away.
The only story from this year that I have yet to tell, is the day Charlie shot his big buck, how it got away, and what happened the next day.
But that's another story!!
In the meantime, I'll be searching through my dad's photo collection for some good pics of the old days when the bucks were 400 pounds with tines as long as you can reach.
The only deer that I knowingly jumped, but didn't see, was that sneaky little deer who led me around in circles.
However, I enjoyed chasing them around, and certainly enjoyed being in the woods, as I always do. The only problem seems to be that whenever there are lots of deer around, I can't seem to recruit anyone to help me.
My friend Doug, who lives right around the hill from me, says that he a pack of coy-dogs, up near the beaver dam close to the county line. He said that suddenly the entire ground seemed to be moving, and it gave him the 'willies', which didn't make him feel any better when he realized that they were a pack of wild dogs, or wolves, or whatever these critters are.
I've heard them occasionally. Doug tells me that they moved in about a year ago or so. Across the lake, we hear them all the time, yipping away.
The only story from this year that I have yet to tell, is the day Charlie shot his big buck, how it got away, and what happened the next day.
But that's another story!!
In the meantime, I'll be searching through my dad's photo collection for some good pics of the old days when the bucks were 400 pounds with tines as long as you can reach.
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