Photo by: Chris G.

Did this deer confront destiny within the ‘Circle of Life’ or was it needlessly killed and wasted in Lake Ontario?

This photo was taken by a friend, this past week, and when it surfaced on his Facebook account there were many questions posted as to how it may have died. I only post it here to ask fellow hunters and outdoor people to potentially provide some thoughts.

What makes it a mystery (at least to me) are: the ropes around the antlers and front leg, the bag-like covering around the torso (which could be fat as the deer hide deteriorates (hard to determine from the photo). Was the deer tied up and left to die (which would be sick)? Did it fall through the ice and the rope was tangled after the fact? Predation – looking at its hind quarters?

The potential 10-buck still has his antlers attached. Is this indicative of an early winter death and the deer washed on shore after the fact?

Thoughts? I think Chris is calling the MNR, or the Humane Society, to move and investigate it.

I remember, as a kid, an old Tamarack tree that guarded our well at the hunt camp. By day, I would hunt grouse in and around its lower branches. At night, it became a dark and spooky place that little boys liked to stay away from

It was the perfect place for an overactive imagination. I found that out the hard way on a dark, cold deer season night.

I was starting to enjoy the warmth of the camp stove when dad announced that we were out of water. Normally, I would not worry about such a comment but this time his voice sounded different. Or perhaps it was his ‘I am looking at, YOU, kid stare’ as he reached for my coat and flashlight. A feeling of impending doom surged through my entire body. Outside, a slight breeze began to awaken the ‘fang-like’ needles of an old tamarack.

Sensing my fear and hesitation, dad pulled me out of my over-worked imagination by saying something like, “You don’t need to be afraid of the dark. It’s time you got used to walking alone…at night.”

I felt like reminding him that it was not the dark that scared me. It was that old tamarack tree.

Slowly, dad ushered me to the cabin door and handed me a light and the water pot. The door creaked closed behind me as I headed down the foreboding trail to the well. Everything was fine until the trees around me moved closer together and blocked the light coming from the cabin windows. The beacons of hope were quickly overcome by the awakening darkness.

I was theirs now. Their branches, like giant fingers, crept out towards me. I did what any kid would do.

I started whistling. This was a mistake.

My barely audible tune woke up the ‘beast of beasts’ lurking under the branches of the pine and spruce tendrils. The beaked monster circled around me. It was attempting to block my approach to the well. I ran faster and it kept pace. I dove behind an old tree stump, held my breath and waited. The giant grouse missed my diving maneuver and noisily crashed with a thunderous flap into the surrounding night. I peered around the stump and my shaking light illuminated a small section of the well. I ran from my hiding place and made a final, timid approach to the well.

Wham!

I tripped on the tamarack’s gnarly roots and landed looking up into the tree’s needled gaze. If trees snickered – I just heard one. My flashlight fell a few yards from me, but through the moonlight  I could see the water pail resting against the side of the well. I crawled over to the well, like war wearied soldier, and slid the well’s lid open to dip the pail into the dark waters. A daring attempt to confirm the contents of the shivering pail revealed that it was full of tamarack needles.

Again, the well’s rooted sentry seemed to snicker.

I poured the water back into the sandy well and re-dipped the pot. Just then, a branched cracked out in the darkness. Perhaps, the grouse was preparing a counter-attack. I slid the lid back onto the well and and my legs hit ‘warp-speed’ in a matter of seconds. Drops of water flew out with every step. I did not slow until I was safely within the glow of the camp stove’s fire. When the door flew open, from my hasty arrival, I handed my prize to dad.

His reaction was mixed and definitely not what I expected. He brought the pot closer to the light and, together, we saw water that the water was clouded with sand and yellowing tamarack needles.

It looked like a kind of tamarack tea.

“You poured the water back into the well didn’t you?”, he sternly asked, “We can’t drink this and it will take a day or two for the sand to settle again”. I thought about telling him about the scary grouse, moving branches and the snickering tamarack.

Across the room, Grandpa laughed quietly; as if to remind my dad of a time long ago when his son did the same thing. Two days later dad took me back to the well (at night) and showed me how to get a better portion of clear water.

There were no gnarly branched tendrils.

No stalking grouses.

No tamarack sneers.

Figures.

Bringing this story back to the present. I am looking across the room at my daughter and wondering when it will be her turn to go for some tamarack tea.

Should I warn her about the old Tamarack?

It is nice to get noticed – especially since I have recently just returned back to blogging. I appreciate it Steve.

Jeff and his Muskoka Tom

One of Muskoka’s successful turkey hunters, Jeff Dupuis, sent me some photos of his recent hunt for a Muskoka gobbler. According to Jeff,  the large ‘Tom’ that was enticed by a variety of calls while Jeff watched his ‘jake’ and ‘hen’ decoys.

Well done Jeff!

Location:
Bracebridge Fairgrounds, 330 Fraserburg Road

Two Dates:
Saturday May 19th, 2012
Sunday October 21st, 2012

Times: 8 am to 2 pm

Admission: Adults $6; Children Under 12 Accompanied by an adult, free

All firearm laws are to be obeyed. Trigger locks are required. Security will check at entrance.

Show Organizers:
Ron Pickering and John Harlo
www.BracebridgeGunShow.com
info@BracebridgeGunShow.com
705 – 454 – 8177

The  next event is on Sunday, May 6, 2012, at Logging Chain Lodge in Dwight, Ontario.

Registration is at 9:00 AM with a 10:00 AM shotgun start.  The $25.00 entry fee is great value for a great cause and lunch is included!

F0r more details call Annemarie at 705-6352575 or visit: http://www.loggingchainlodge.on.ca/

Al and Jeff after a successful hunt

Living in Huntsville offers a little shorter hunting season compared to most deer hunting to the south of us. Once Dec 15/ 2010 had passed, I thought that was it. I had come to grips with the fact that 2010 just wasn’t my year. Well, that would all change after getting a call from Al Cavers.

Here it was the 2nd last day of deer season and my buddy Al and I decided we would giver one last try. Both of us had hunted pretty hard and we had seen a lot of deer throughout the season but the right opportunity for me, hadn’t quite presented itself. Al had harvested a deer a few weeks earlier and honestly, I thought my deer hunting days for this year were over.

Al lives down in Manilla Ontario, west of Lindsay Ontario and his deer season didn’t end until December 31. The purpose of Al’s call was to invite me to his place to hunt. He said that he had a couple of climbing tree stands and that he had permission in a couple of spots where there had been a lot of deer activity.

Al and I go way back. You know when you can say you have one, maybe two best friends if you’re lucky in a life time. Well, he’s one of those guys. He’s actually a brother! He’s a real bushman and he knows plenty about the outdoors and especially about hunting and fishing. So when you get a call from Al and he thinks we might have a good chance of getting something, you don’t hesitate. You get in your vehicle and go!

I arrived early in the morning on Dec 29th. We hunted all day in two different spots but came up short.

The next day Al had to leave. He and his family had to head down to southwestern Ontario but not before a last ditch effort morning hunt. So, there we were dragging our sorry butts out of bed at 4:30 AM, driving down a country road and hiking back into the bush in the dark. We hiked through the snow with our bows in our hands and bulky climbing tree stands strapped to our backs.

Now, I’ll be honest, I was a little skeptical about the whole climbing tree stand thing. After all, I had never used one before. I wasn’t skeptical about how they worked or if they worked. I knew they did. I just knew that picking the right tree meant picking one with minimal branches which also meant a tree without a whole lot of cover. I had been busted by deer in the past in situations just like that. In fact, that very morning as daylight fast approached a doe and two yearlings looked right up at me and I swear they grew wings. What ever it was I don’t know, they didn’t like something and in a flash they were gone.

Once again, I thought that was it. I sat down in my stand and not 20 minutes later in full morning light I heard what sounded like deer movement in the snow. I looked to my right and there he was just lightly feeding on small saplings. He began to move away from me and it was at that point I realized I forgot my grunt call. I don’t know if you’ve ever practiced grunt calling with your mouth. But it’s just typical. I can grunt call all day long using my mouth when I’m not deer hunting but stick me in front of a deer in that moment when it counts the most. Well, lets just say my grunt calls that morning weren’t the best.

Call it fate, call it luck, I might even have myself believe that my feeble attempt at calling turned that deer around. What ever it was, he did turn around and began heading my way. At first he approached directly towards me and that wasn’t good for a bunch of reasons, but mostly because there wasn’t a whole lot of ground cover between the deer and me. This can make it difficult to draw your bow. Just when I thought he was going to walk straight in on me he decided to take a little detour behind a small group of  standing cedar.

It was now or never. I took the opportunity to draw my bow. I held until he was open and broadside at about 15 yards. It was at that point after triggering my release, between the shaking and trying to draw a normal breath, I knew I had made a solid hit. After all, the WHACK sound was unmistakable.

How good of a shot was it, I wasn’t sure. Then I looked down at the snow. The red blood trail that followed him into the bush was proof enough that I must have made a good shot. After the shot, he ran and crashed through the bush and dropped at about 50 yards.  What a hunt!!

You want to talk about a celebration between friends. I’m 46 and Al is 45 years young. We’ve known each other since we were ten. It’s moments like that that make you thankful for great friends and thankful to God to be alive!

-Written and submitted by Jeff Dupuis-