Tuesday, March 26, 2013

A Traditional KISS



A Traditional KISS

 Finally, it’s time to head to the woods to hunt deer as our ancestors hunted them – with bow and arrow.  We are a strange lot who choose to use a relatively primitive tool to hunt one of the most elusive, cautious and nature-smart creatures in the wild.  Always vigilant and on-guard, deer can hear, smell and anticipate our presence.  Our plan is to do all that we can to increase our chances of success.  The deer’s survival instincts appear to be supernatural, so we prepare for the hunt using the heavily promoted hunting accessories and supplies that promise to make us ghost busters.  We must overcome the deer’s senses of sight, smell and hearing to even hope to have the chance of getting a shot.
            The choice of camouflaged clothing is intended to make it difficult for the deer to see our human outline when compared to the surroundings.  The advertising for camo patterns can be found in all of the hunting journals.  Most of the successful bow hunters on TV and in magazines are clad in Mossy Oak or Realtree fashions.  Some of the “old school” bow hunters can be found wearing Treebark or army surplus pattern clothing.  The camouflage patterns can be found on hunting blinds, tree stands, bow limbs, and even 180 thread count bed sheets.   We’re lead to believe that we need to invest in the latest camouflage pattern to keep the deer from seeing us as we try to conceal ourselves in the woods.
            Learning how deer communicate via sound is critical.  Knowing the sounds that deer make and being able to anticipate their reaction to the sound provides us with a rare advantage.  However, we quickly learn that deer, very much like teenagers, rarely act in a predictable manner. We try grunting, bleeting, rattling and wheezing to get the deer’s attention and entice them to approach our position.   There are manual and electronic devices sold to emulate the deer “language” and advertised as the translation tool that will broadcast the invitation to other deer needed to lure them into an effective shooting range.
            We religiously shower with scent free soap and use the companion shampoo.  Brush our teeth with tasteless baking soda.  Apply unscented deodorant. Dress in the carbon activated, scent-absorbing, moisture wicking, HD camouflage clothing.  Finally, we completely spray every inch of our body with the scent-eliminating snake oil advertised as the “must have” ingredient for the successful hunt (as long as we stay down wind of the deer). 
            If we choose not to attempt to remove all of our scent, why not choose to smell like a promiscuous deer of the opposite sex who wants to meet up close and personal?  Years ago I tried a similar technique to entice the opposite sex by splashing on gallons of Brute and Hai Karate after gym class. I’d say the outcome could be termed as a mixed success.  I did have to fight off the ladies.  However, most of my fight was in self defense as they were trying to beat me down for completely depleting the room’s oxygen supply.
            Photographs captured by trail cameras provide dates and times of deer activity that help to pattern deer behavior.  The quality of the photographs and features on the cameras continue to improve each year.  Just because we can’t be in the field 24/7, that doesn’t mean the camera can’t record what we’re missing.  Who needs pictures of Ms. November wearing nothing more than a trigger release when we can see pictures of a healthy 4 by 4 passing our camera at 4:30 in the morning – and we’re not talking DuraMax baby! (wink, wink).  Some cameras record the date, time, temperature and moon phase.  The only thing missing is the deer’s age, weight and zodiac sign.
            There is a wide range of archery equipment.  It starts with the traditional longbow and wooden arrows all the way to the ultra-modern carbon composite killing machine.  We are talking bows that launch arrows in excess of 300 feet per second.  That is almost twice the speed of my traditional relic.
            The arrow rest on the modern compound bow appears to nullify the laws of gravity.  It keeps the arrow suspended in mid air.  It all but eliminates the friction between arrow and bow upon the activation of the calibrated trigger release.
            The HD fiber optic sighting device appears to be more technologically advanced than the first Lunar Module that landed on the moon.  It lights up, balances you and your bow, provides controls for micro fine adjustments and locks your retina.  It’s nice to know that I can shoot my bow instead of taking Prozac to get me balanced.  But that retina locking thing sounds like it could hurt. 
All that is left before field dressing our game is to record the laser measured distance using the state-of-the-art range finder, nock an arrow on our GLOWING adjustable arrow nocks, align the peep sight with the GLOWING HD Fiber Optic sight pin and activate the micro calibrated trigger release.  The fine micro carbon shaft with a straightness tolerance of plus or minus .001 inches and a weight tolerance of plus or minus 1 grain will streak through the air at 1/4 the speed of sound.  The fletching promises maximum steering and durability, minimum noise and weight, and tighter groups.  The mechanical broadhead is certain to create a cavernous wound cavity that will dispatch the animal quickly (that is, if the broadhead doesn’t open in the quiver first).  If the season is not over by the time we get all of this done, dinner is served.
I’m sure there is a Time and Place for all of the technological innovations that increase the bow hunter’s success.  However, I find that when I have the Time to make my Place in the woods, I prefer to do without technology as much as possible.  Hunting with a longbow and shooting wooden arrows is how I unplug.
I would eventually like to make my own hunting bow.  However, for now I’ll stick to my treasured 62 pound, 62 inch longbow.  I make my own arrows from cedar blanks that I fletch and finish with a fixed blade Zwicky broadhead.  My most recent innovation is to wrap rattle snake skin on the shaft as my signature cresting.  I experimented with different glues to get the feathers on the skin without taking off the scales.  When the arrow was completed, I was concerned that it was not balanced and would not fly correctly.  To my surprise and delight, it missed the bull’s-eye with the same errant precision as any of my store bought arrows.  I only had enough rattle snake skin left over after covering my bow limbs to wrap two arrows.  I proclaimed that any deer taken with these arrows would be termed “Snake Bitten.”
The next personal touch that I added to my hunt is my attire.  There has been so much research into what is best, worst, and doesn’t matter when it comes to blending in with nature.  It only stands to reason, as a traditional hunter, I should wear what nature provides.  It gets too chilly in the mornings to go completely au natural, so I settled on burlap.  My choice for camouflage is tailored burlap coffee sacks.  The breeze that flows through the mesh is refreshing after a long hike.  I wear wicking shorts and top and find my burlap creation just as comfortable as my store bought clothing.  I’ve gone undetected in the field by several buddies when only yards away.  So now I think I’m ready to approach my deer hunt with all of my traditional tools tested.
I arrive at an area large enough for me to stand surrounded by manzanita and sage brush.  There are bushes to my rear that guard against providing a view of my silhouette as the sun rises over the mountains.  I stand there in my stylish burlap coffee sack camo, holding my Acadian Woods 62 pound at 28 inch longbow and nocked my 29 inch, rattle snake skin wrapped arrow with 125 grain Zwicky broadhead.  I adjust my finger tab and continue to wait.  About 40 minutes into my wait, I hear noises come from a bush on the other side of the ridge.  I watch as a doe appears from beneath the canopy of brush and walk along the trail.  The adrenalin pump is switched to high as I size up my options and plan to get a quality shot.  I finger my arrow nock to make sure my simple glue on arrow nock is secure on my simple bow string holding my simple wooden arrow that I have no idea of the weight or the straightness.  Simply put – everything is simple.
I shift one foot in front of the other allowing me to get in shooting position.  As I raise my bow, the doe stares deeply into my eyes and moves her head side to side in puzzlement – as if to say, “Are you really wearing a burlap coffee sack?!”  The unspecified weight wooden arrow finds its mark and the doe drops in her tracks.
There are friends who hunt with firearms and compound bows who say that my traditional method of hunting is pretty stupid when there are many things that can make the hunt more successful.  My response is, “There are few things that are as memorable and satisfying as A Traditional Archery KISS (Keeping It Simple Stupid) and just about everyone remembers their fist KISS.”

I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up



I”ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up
I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.  The only sound I hear is the barking alert of a nearby tree squirrel.  He had a front row seat to my “fall from Grace”.  The squirrel’s heckling drives home the point that it definitely was not a graceful fall.  He’s telegraphing throughout the forest the updated score, deer one, hunter none.  How embarrassing to be dissed by a squirrel…

Just yesterday morning I had my 6 year old son and his 14 year old cousin hunting with me in this area.  We got out of bed at 4:30 AM and we were in the forest by 5:45 AM.  To say that we were still hunting would be completely laughable.  If you know anything about many 6 year old boys, the last thing that they can be is still.  So I used the time that we had in the woods to allow the boys to shoot their slingshots and for me to find a potential tree stand location.  The boys soon learned that acorns make pretty good slingshot ammunition.  I’m sure the squirrels were not expecting the onslaught of an acorn shower launched by slingshots.  I also held out a very faint hope that a curious buck would find the boys too irresistible not to investigate.  Any respectable buck would know that this loud and raucous group could not be a hunting party.  For goodness sakes, the smallest one in the bunch was singing pop songs and skipping along the trail.  Unfortunately for us, we did not come across a buck whose curiosity was greater than his common sense; although I stood ready should the event present itself. 

I scouted an area where three recently traveled deer trails converged and there was fresh scat on the ground.  I located what appeared to be a sturdy oak tree adjacent to the trails.  I trimmed back a little brush and removed the dead limbs to provide a better view of where the trails converged.  This appeared to be a great spot for me to return early in the morning in hope to catch the deer moving.

I corralled my two-man Chinese fire drill team and pointed them in the direction of the car.  They did not get to see any deer, but both raved that they had a great time.  My 6 year old even made up a song about his great time that I had to hear all the way home.

My wife was pleased that we all had fun; and more pleased that we were gone for so long.  I told her that the constructive part of my hunt was the tree stand location and preparation completed.  She insisted that I return the next day to the tree stand location without the boys.  The boys already had a great time and should be worn out for at least a day and one-half.  Besides, it was my responsibility to step up and bring the meat home.

The next day I was up at 4:30 AM again and in the woods by 5:30 AM.  Knowing the tree location relative to the access road, I was able to park a little closer to where I wanted to set up.  I decided to put on my safety harness before walking to the tree so that I would make less noise once I arrived.  Getting the snaps and straps oriented correctly takes time and can be noisy.  I walked quietly through the brush and arrived at Grace, the mighty oak tree.   Yes, the tree’s name is Grace, as in “…fall from Grace”.  The trunk branched out at about 12 feet, so I set 3 pegs in the lower trunk to get up to the saddle.  Giving a little favoritism to my right knee, I had MCL surgery 6 weeks ago, I braced against what appeared to be a sturdy branch to reach the limb to attach my safety harness and …oops…

On the way down I reached for other branches.  Of course, all of the branches I managed to reach turned out to be breakaway branches.  I hit the ground, and thankfully nothing else but the ground on my left side.  I am positive it was my left side because it still hurts!  As I lay there on the ground, I can remember my first thought, “$#@!, I just fell out of a tree!”  I know that falling from tree stands is among the leading causes of hunting injuries, but I don’t believe that I just fell out of a tree.  Ok, now what?  Can you move your hands and fingers?  Check.  Can you move your legs and feet?  Check.  Can you sit up?  Check, but it really hurts.  Ok then, lay back down.  I can’t believe I just fell out of a tree!  That tree squirrel has been squawking since I hit the ground.  He is the one creature to witness the whole pathetic event.  The longer I lay here, the louder the squirrel gets. 

Ok, I’ve just fallen out of a tree and a heckling squirrel is making fun of me.  I take that as a sign that it is time for me to go home.  That means I have to find a way to stand up and eventually walk.  I rolled onto my stomach, raised myself to my knees and pushed up with my arms.  One more surge and I was standing, and it hurt!  My steps were a very slow and deliberate shuffle, much like a constipated Frankenstein monster. 

As I looked back at my landing zone beneath the tree, I could clearly see the imprint of my body in the dirt.  There was so much dirt turned over that the area looked like a Tyrannosaurus Rex scrape.  My last recollection as I limped to the truck was the mocking heckle of Mr. Squirrel.  Please email me your favorite squirrel recipes.

FACTS:
According to a 2008 Consumer Product Safety Commission report on tree-stand-related accidents, between 2005 and 2007:
- 41 hunters were killed
- About 19,000 were injured
My fall resulted in bruising and embarrassment, but nothing broken.

The Perfect Shot



The opening day of the 2011 Archery Only D11 Zone was yesterday.  However, I spent most the day celebrating a friend’s birthday and completing long over due “honey do’s” around the house.  So today, Sunday, will be my first 2011 hunt.  Too much celebrating would make me less eager for an early morning hunt.  I left the party early Saturday night and headed home to pack my gear.  The plan – up by 0400 hours and out of the house by 0500 hours.

I love it when a plan comes together.  Unfortunately for me, this is the exception, not the rule.  I was up at 0400 hours this morning as planned, but all of the food and drink from the birthday party had a WWF Smack Down in my belly.  Suffice it to say, I did not leave the house until 0530 hours and the bathroom air fresheners were working overtime.

At 0615 hours I arrived at one of my favorite spots.  It’s a private plot of land surrounded by US Forest Service that requires hunting permission.  I planned to have the permission papers signed, but forgot that it is Sunday and the offices are closed.  Oh well, I’ll just scout the area.  It took three attempts for me to locate the area that I setup last year.  The first two attempts left me exhausted from bush whacking to the wrong areas that present little to no shot opportunities. 

The brush was so thick and I was so loud crashing through it, I’m sure I spooked game from Oregon to Arizona.  When I finally reached my “honey pot,” I sat and got right down to business…I took a nap.  The four hours spent there were uneventful, so I left to check out another favorite area on public lands.

My knee surgery was one month and two days old now, so I didn’t think there would be limitations to my hiking.  My knee allowed me to hike without pain, however at a much slower pace.  Climbing the hillsides became more difficult, also. I realize that I’m about twice the age of many active professional athletes, but how is it that they can destroy their knees and still run 4.5 second forties after surgery?  Just askin’…

As I walked the trails, I continued to glass and inhale the strong sage aroma riding the thermals crisscrossing the forest floor.  I like the smell so much I tried to make it into a cologne.  My wife vetoed the cologne project and stands sentry at the door when I return from the forest so that I remove my clothing before making the house smell like a sage farm.  The sage smell is extraordinarily overwhelming; and that is the secret to my scent control.  When I smell like sage, I don’t smell like a human to the deer I hunt, AND I can’t go home unless I get naked -- pretty fair trade-off, eh?
 
My spot and stalk hike unveils plenty of sign – scat, tracks, rubs – but no deer are in sight.  I stopped to glass the area ahead, but before I raised the binoculars to my eyes, I glanced to my right and I see the rump of a deer about 40 yards away near the top of a hill.  There is a tree directly in front of my head and a tree directly in front of the deer’s head making it impossible for us to have eye-to-eye contact.  I could see his rump and he could probably see my arms and bow.  We both stood motionless for no less than 35 minutes.  As I stood there contemplating my options, I recalled that I needed to confirm the sex and legality of the deer if I was presented with a shot.  The rear view of the “cojones” confirmed that it was a male deer.  The remaining concern was to make sure the antler size was within the legal limits.  When he finally decided that the staring contest had gone on too long, he slowly walked down the ridge about 40 yards away.  As he walked and his head became exposed, I saw that he was a massive 5 or 6 pointer.  I’m not sure of the exact count because I didn’t want to get fixated on his antlers.  I had more important business to handle.  I came to full draw on my 62 pound Acadian Woods custom longbow and kissed the knock as the brute continued down the ridge.  As he entered an area that had small trees present an unobstructed frame of his vitals, I unleashed my most reliable wooden arrow with its Zwicky single edge razor sharp broadhead.  I kept my focus on the intended impact spot as the arrow spiraled perfectly toward the kill zone.  I recall the pulsating glimmer of the freshly sharpened razor edges on the broadhead in the sunlight and the rotating brightly colored feathers as the arrow followed the planned path to a perfect heart/lung shot.  Everything was perfect – except the buck was not there when the arrow arrived.  The small string twang caused the buck to hasten his pace.  The arrow arrived at the kill zone about ½ second too late.  It was a clean miss.

This majestic buck deserved nothing less than a perfect hit or a perfect miss.  My preference is obvious, I would have been honored to harvest the animal.  I brought to bear my years of experience and practice to make the perfect shot.  The buck brought to bear his years of experience and instincts to survive. 

This was not my first encounter with this buck.  We met over 2 years ago along the same trail.  He was up hill, about 50 yards away and completely surrounded by trees and brush.  I knew that I did not have shot and it appeared that he also knew it.  We stared at one another for about 5 minutes before he turned and disappeared into the trees.  I’m hoping that our meeting today will not be our last.  Encounters like this make me a better and more appreciative hunter.

Timothy  Jones
Los Angeles County Fish and Game Commissioner 2005-2011

My gear included:
Acadian Woods custom longbow
62# at 28” draw
Cedar arrows
Zwicky single edge broadheads
Feather Fletching
Bushnell 16x32 binoculars
Timberland Boots
Homemade Ode de Sage cover scent
Military surplus camouflage outwear
“Batman” underwear