But on to more entertainin' subjects, like our awesome weekend upstate.
I swear to God that my little brother is the luckiest bastard on the face of the earth. Friday afternoon, I left him 300 yards from his spot with ladder steps, a hang-on stand and his bow at about 1:15pm. By five after two, the little bastard was on the phone with the ol' man, requestin' help for trackin'. After a whoppin' five minutes on stand, a big ol' brute strolled by lookin' for a doe to bang, and wound up with a 100-grain Muzzy takin' off the top of his heart instead. He was a fat booger, too... weighed in at 180 pounds field dressed, which is around 230 pounds live weight. That's a big ol' boy just about anywhere south of Canada.
After Schlongie and I gave him a hand with trackin', guttin' and draggin', I headed out to another part of the same property. Wandered up onto some turkeys, and after a half-hour wait managed to shank a 20-yard shot through a small gap in a blowdown. Busted my arrow in half in the process too, damnit.
I kept goin' to where I wanted to set up, only to find deer already in the field about where I wanted to be. I was surrounded by deer sign where I stood though, and since I couldn't think of anything more intelligent to do I just planted my arse at the base of a nearby tree.
About a half hour later, I was happily allowin' my mind to wander when a six-point magically appeared a mere 10 yards away. As soon as he went behind a tree, I drew, and as soon as his vitals hit my red pin on the other side of the tree, the arrow was on it's way. I called up and got Joe headin' my way, since it was gettin' dark. Thankfully, it didn't take long to find the buck, as he only went about 80 yards. Total time from initially seein' the buck to him pilin' up... less than a minute.
Ron wrapped up our success for the weekend by whackin' a jenny hen the next mornin'. Anytime he can take away some competition for the gobblers in the spring, he's a happy guy.
Needless to say, we spent the better part of the weekend with good company, eatin' very well and dousin' ourselves with various spirits. If anybody leaves Ron's place hungry, it is most certainly their own damn fault.
|Joe's stuffed venison tenderloin. I guess he's good|
for something after all.
|A light showin' this year but still a great time!|
|That lucky bastard.|
Our buddy Dave, who's usually with us up there for Bowhunter's Weekend, couldn't make it up this year. He did manage some time in the woods at home though, and wound up punchin' his tag on a nice buck of his own.
Back on the home front last night, we managed to get into the geese a bit. It's been awhile since I've been in on a good shoot, and it had the added bonus of being on one of my favorite ponds. We used to pound the piss outta geese on this pond back in the day, but it's been several years since we've even set it up. Of course, we set it up tonight with a few extra guns, but didn't see a damn thing. That's okay though... after cleanin' geese last night and finishin' the butcherin' on our bucks today, Joe and I didn't feel like cuttin' up anymore meat.
On that note, this is a rather long-winded post for me, and I'd rather be fallin' asleep in front of the VA Tech-FSU game. Y'all have a good night.