 |
| Yearly Count |
Five pieces of thin plywood. Wood
screwed together and attached to long legs chained to a red pine
sixteen feet in the air. This has been my home, my refuge, during the
gun season for over 15 years. Before that, some old Wausau Paper
mill felt lined the shooting rails to help block the wind. Even
earlier, it was a couple planks nailed to a crotch of an oak or
birch, where I'd shiver in the exposed air yet try not to twitch a
muscle for fear of being pegged by an unseen whitetail.
So maybe from a purest standpoint, my
boxstand is sacrilegious to true hunting-too comfortable some would
say? But deer hunting has changed-I've changed. Scant numbers of
hunters cruise snow covered hills and dales seeking out a track to
peruse.
Fragmented small land parcels prevent that technique and more-so,
few nimrods* are willing to put the effort nowadays. Still hunters,
taking step after painstaking slow step, scanning the forest for game
are scarce as well. I wonder how many of us have the patience to use
these techniques in our “modern” times? For a change of pace, I
have reverted to those ancestral skills from time to time but not often
enough it seems.
This year again, I, like the majority
of hunters, sit and wait. Fred Bear championed this hunting style
and indeed, maybe taking a stand, letting game come to you and
staying put can be the most successful. This little box on stilts
affords me at least a little comfort, letting me dwell longer. It's
the second day of the season as I write this and what was a near
perfect opener, (sans deer sightings) with mild temps and snow cover,
turned to a damp windy grey scape. I'm happy to have these four
walls blocking some of the mist and breeze.
It's not a luxury box like the new
plastic or fiberglass ones for sale outside Gander Mountain or the
local sporting goods store. Nope-mine is just homemade-I like the
openness in order to hear a twig snap or leaf shuffle. I'm not sure
how guys can hunt just visually from those windowed central heated
stands. Not a criticism- for I enjoy my little crib in a tree, I
just need a bit more exposure to keep all senses involved.
This stand is also my escape. I can
duck down and pour and sip what usually is the best coffee ever (deer
hunting helps “flavor” it) or stay almost hidden munching a
sandwich. It's a quiet place as well, so needed when removed from my
elementary school classroom (and appreciated). It's my humble abode
where notes can be jotted down, my hunting journal updated and maybe
pages of a book read. (this year's selection was Richard Thiel's
“the Timber Wolf in Wisconsin”)
The property where my stand resides has
been our family near Mosinee for over 40 years. I wandered and
hunted this and the surrounding land since a teen ager. The tree it
leans against is not a random choice. My stand locations gradually
migrated over the years further and further from our shack, now to
this remotest corner of the property. County and managed forest land
adjoin ours and although I've never had mass migrations of deer pass
by, the spot has been productive. The stands' lifetime average is
.75 deer per hour hunting. Maybe low by central farmland standards,
but enough to put venison in the freezer from time to time. Least I
forget, I've etched every whitetail seen from this box on the wood
walls. Yearlings, does and bucks with little lines indicating the
number of points. Occasionally, a mark will be circled, indicating a
successful shot. Some are noted with “Ten” or “Nik” next to
it-the kids joining me here for their first successful hunt with dad.
It can be a long hike in here-a mile
now, and although I pass through good habitat, I seem to just want to
get to the stand and settle in. Stashed warm boots, bibs and orange
coat are changed into by the glow of a headlamp, daylight still an
hour off. The backpack is unloaded of shells, binoculars, extra hats
and a camera. The notebook sits next to a thermos, ziplock bag of
moms cookies and a bologna pickle sandwich. Only when all that is
set can I relax and start taking in the sounds of the still pitch
black woods. Its amazing what one can hear and detect in those
agonizingly quiet pre-dawn minutes. As soon as the sun is up and
maybe a breeze begins, I can ease off the intensity of the senses.
 |
| Pre-Game |
Hiking in this year (on day 2) I
thought the weatherman should have issued a dense fog advisory for
hunters seeking their stands. My light barely pierced the blanket of
suspended cloud I waded through traversing the old logging road.
Luckily for me, my opening day tracks remained in the mashed potato
snow and I could blindly follow them to the ladder. Not surprising,
there were few shots in this murkiness, even after several hours of
daylight. Opening day, it seemed everyone was shooting....except
me. As it turned out, there were lucky hunters around us, but
unfortunately, none in the Meurett group.
Having a little comfort like this box
keeps me out in the woods longer. I usually stay all day. In the
back of my mind I think I can't get a deer if I'm sitting back in the warm
shack. Part stubbornness, part optimism I guess. I know if I'm out
there at least I have a chance-even on dead slow long fog days.
After several unproductive days and later in the season, even that
tenacity starts to wear off. Hours and hours staring at the same
bare trees and listening to the same red squirrel scurrying around
gathering pine cones gets old. The stand fends off the urge leave a
little longer-I have some coffee yet in the thermos and a few more
pages of notes to pen and the .308 leaning against the wall still has
a chance if it's here not in a case.
 |
| Day 2:Fog |
Although I have a few days left in this
season, the chances of getting a deer tend to dip dramatically. I
know this. Fewer hunters out moving whitetails, the animals staying
nocturnal and frankly, some of the deer are just now gone. I'll
still take my place and put in more time-one never knows what will
happen. It'll be bittersweet on the last hunt there this year,
tucking away my gear one last time. You become attached and
accustomed to this little place away from it all. I'll know that the
season is over and it'll be another year to wait until I climb this
ladder....with a new book, my trusty Winchester and a thermos full
of coffee.
 |
| Hour 17 |
*
1. (Bible) Old Testament a hunter, who was famous for his prowess (Genesis 10:8-9). Douay spelling: Nemrod
2. a person who is dedicated to or skilled in hunting
No comments:
Post a Comment