Bright Idea Outdoors Weblog

Deer Season is Over When?

It dawned on me Saturday, as I sat shivering in a tree stand in 20-degree weather: deer season is almost over.  With the first Saturday of the New Year falling on January 2, there are only three weeks remaining in Virginia's general firearms deer season.

The abrupt end to the season doesn't bother me too much.  First of all, we do still have three weeks left; that's three weeks of optimism for any hunter who is still hoping to get a buck.  Secondly, I got a prettynice buck back in November and at this point I'm hunting for meat to donate to the needy and also to thin the deer herd.  As most of Bright Idea Blog readers know, the opportunity to  hunt for meat and management of the deer herd actually exists in my county until late March.  We can't shoot bucks after January 2, but antlerless deer remain fair game all winter.

So I'm not too upset about the end of deer season.  It's more that, for me, the final day of the season marks the passage of time, much more so than New Year's Day itself.  Life is a book written in short chapters, and one of mine will end January 2, regardless of whether I'm in the woods.

On the Road Again. . .

Yesterday it was Reston, and I spent this morning working in the Arlington area.  I'm actually writing this from a public library in the City of Falls Church.  I'm ashamed to say it, but this is the first time I've ever used a WiFi connection in a library.   It's free, easy and beats the hell out of going some place where you have to pay $4 for coffee if you want to sit around and use a computer.

What's Matt doing in a library when he's supposed to be working, you ask? 

It's like this: in my job as a termite inspector I have a number of scheduled stops every day.  Each of those stops has a one or two-hour window; 7-8 a.m., 8-10 a.m., etc.  Unfortunately, as a "rookie" inspector I get stuck with a 3-5 p.m. stop just about every day.  I don't mind it most of the time; the days are usually pretty full.  But today, I was finished with my next-to-last stop by 11:30 a.m.  It's 12:30 now, and I've got some time to kill. . .

Speaking of killing, I sure would like to get some hunting in this weekend.  It seems like months since the last time I got into a tree stand.  In fact, I'm not even sure when it was; Thanksgiving weekend I guess.  Compared to the last few years, my hunting opportunities have been extremely limited during the 2009 season.  Because of that, I feel fortunate to have had some success and to have venison in the freezer.

I also feel fortunate to live in a  county where deer season is far from over (even if I can't hunt on Sundays!)

Happy Birthday. . .

The sun came out today, and I pulled over and got out of my truck for a moment at Reston Hospital.  What better place, I thought, to thank God for my family, especially for my two sons who were born at that hospital early in this decade.  The little bit of snow left over from Saturday's storm took me back to the icy December days when I became a father for the first and second times.

I'd spent the day working in Reston, which, for the most part, is not my kind of place.  The traffic is heavy, the buildings are tall and it seems like everyone dresses nice.  But Reston Hospital Center will always hold a special place in my heart.  It is where I became what I am, where I gained my true identity.

All I can add to that is: Happy Birthday Nick!

Another Snow Pic

I already wrote my snow post (see below) but I couldn't resist publishing this picture as well.  Hopefully, we'll have plenty more days like this in the coming weeks and months.

First Snow A Welcome Stress Reliever.

A difficult week for my family came to a pleasant end yesterday when we got four inches of snow, our first of the season and the first in my nine years of fatherhood that I didn't have to drive a plow truck.  Although I did have to work at my new job in the morning, it was great to be able to take the kids sledding in the afternoon and to help my two-year-old son build this snowman as darkness fell.

The trouble we had came on Monday afternoon when my dog Rocky and my seven-year-old were involved in an unfortunate incident.  The dog is currently taking a little vacation at Camp Cowboy while we decide what to do.  We love the dog, and all of us miss him, but the bottom line is he bit my kid.  Why, no one is really sure, but it's not something I can take a chance on happening again.  If anyone has any possible solution or advice, I'd love to hear it.

As difficult as it has been to cope with the Rocky problem, it was nice to get that snow and accomplish the goal I set so long ago to actually be able to be home with my kids in a snowstorm.  I would have accomplished one of my other goals this morning if it weren't for Virginia's ridiculous prohibition against hunting on Sundays.  Maybe next time it snows. . .

Dog Seeking Farm

Remember this guy?  He's a lot bigger now but still a great looking dog.
 

I'm sad to say though, that Rocky--a two-year-old Golden Retriever mix--is looking for a new home.  If you think you might have a place for him or know someone who does, give me a call at (703)431-0182 or email outdoorblogger@verizon.net.

When you contact me, I'll explain why Rocky is no longer living at my house and what kind of place might make him happy.  Meanwhile, I plan to write more about this situation at some point, but for now I am focused on finding Rocky a farm or other suitable situation.

Holiday Weekend Hunting Report

The young buck appeared right about the time I had decided to call it an evening.  It looked up at the clump of trees that hid my stand and kept walking.  Then it stopped; right in my shooting lane.

My bowstring was drawn, and my sight pin was on the kill zone.  If it had been five minutes earlier, or if the doe that was behind the buck had come first, I might have shot. 

When I decided for sure to let it walk, I eased off the string.  This motion got the buck's attention.  It spooked, and he and his girlfriend dashed off into the approaching night.

Other than that, the weekend was pretty uneventful from a hunting standpoint.  I concentrated more on goose hunting than deer hunting; I'm new to that and am making some progress but still have had little success.  They came to my decoys yesterday; I think I just need to put the deeks closer to my blind.

My middle son got to hunt with me, but my oldest was sick with the flu and unable to participate.  This was a big disappointment for both of us.  We had really been looking forward to doing some shooting together.  I woke up to frosty conditions this morning; a perfect day to take the youngster, who is feeling better, to the woods.  But you know; we can't hunt on Sundays in Virginia.  The hunt is over for us, at least until next Saturday.

Meanwhile, the Captain is rumored to have killed a big buck Saturday afternoon.  I'll report on that as information comes in.

Saturday Hunting Report

My six-year-old son and I picked a hunting spot on the west side of the pond this afternoon.  We saw the biggest buck I've ever seen at Camp Cowboy; on the east side of the pond!  The huge 10-pointer was in full rut, sniffing and pawing at the ground right in the middle of an open field.  All we could do, however, was watch and desperately blow into a grunt call.

Meanwhile, the Captain knocked down a big doe on another property in eastern Loudoun County. . .

The buck I saw was headed right for one of my favorite stands, and I sure would like to take a crack at him tomorrow morning.  Oh, wait a minute; it's illegal to hunt on Sundays in Virginia. . .

Damn!

My six-year-old son and I picked a hunting spot on the west side of the pond this afternoon.  We saw the biggest buck I've ever seen at Camp Cowboy; on the east side of the pond!  The huge 10-pointer was in full rut, sniffing and pawing at the ground right in the middle of an open field.  All we could do, however, was watch and desperately blow into a grunt call.

Meanwhile, the Captain knocked down a big doe on another property in eastern Loudoun County. . .

The buck I saw was headed right for one of my favorite stands, and I sure would like to take a crack at him tomorrow morning.  Oh, wait a minute; it's illegal to hunt on Sundays in Virginia. . .

Damn!

The Ashburn Sawzall Massacre

Leave it to the Captain to take an ordinary day and turn it into an adventure. It started when I got a call on my way home from work.

"I think my dream is about to come true," the Captain said.

As it happened, I had just passed the Ashburn-area road where my buddy Mike, aka "The Captain" lives.  So, when he filled me in on the situation, I immediately made a U-turn and headed straight for his tee-pee.

It seems that the Captain was awakened last night by the sounds of a car crash and sirens.  When he went to investigate, he found a car with its windshield caved in and learned that the driver had struck a deer. The animal had run off, and the police were unable to locate it.

Uneasy knowing that there could be a dead deer within a mile of his home, the Captain launched his own investigation when he got home from work today.  Astride his trusty 12-speed, it didn't take the veteran tracker long to find the buck in a wooded creek bed near a pedestrian trail.  Only there was a catch; the deer was still alive!

Nearly 24 hours after being hit, the deer clung to life despite the fact that its broken back legs prevented it from moving any more than a few inches at a time.

When I arrived at the house, a sheriff's deputy had already arrived.  The Captain jumped into my truck, and we led the lawman to the spot--about 100 yards away from a major road--where the buck still thrashed about in the underbrush.  By this time two more patrol cars had arrived, and the deputy who put the animal out of its misery had an audience of five (me, the Captain, two other officers and a "ride-a-long") when he unloaded two 12-gauge slugs into the deer.

He then gave the Captain a case number and told him to do with the buck what he would.  I won't go into details, but I will say that we walked into the woods with two kids, Mrs. Captain, a Buck knife and a Sawzall.  Twenty minutes later, we walked out with all of the above as well as two big back straps and a set of antlers.

No; we're not rednecks or anything. . .

A Sinister Plot

Under the watchful eye of the wise heron, Canada Geese calmly swim about on a beautiful Sunday at Cowboy Lake. 
Little do they know that just a few hundred yards away, a fiendish leprechaun and his six new friends are planning their demise.

Goose season starts Saturday!