:
I remember when he showed up in 2014. His little drop tine set him apart from his juvenile accomplices. I could only hope "Little Drop" would survive the season;
Hope is an asset to be sought. Hope is but one attribute of faith, commonly fostered by the results of prayer. By 2015 I could only pray Little Drop would survive another season;
My prayers where answered and in early August he showed back up;
In one year's time, his antlers had blossomed into a respectable crown;
I renamed him "Dubby" and found myself obsessed with his pics. Checking trail cams can been just like Christmas;
I try to manage by only harvesting mature bucks. There in lies the conflict; Dubby is not a mature buck.
By the time he shed his velvet, I decided that he is an exception to the rule;
Should have renamed him the fever buck. I was sick as a dog when I shot him. It would take all my energy just to get to the stand. With temps in the 70s & 60s, I would sit in the stand freezing cold, shivering, and wishing for bed. During my hunts my fever broke multiple times. I would find a little relief in the breaking of sweat. At times, I felt I had all I could stand. I would get to the point of giving up and getting down, instead I would pull out my phone and look at trail cam pics. His pics gave me the motivation to stick it out and stay on stand;
The stand I was hunting is in a cedar tree, next to the skeleton of what used to be an enclosed stand built on telephone poles 30 years ago. Aside from memories, all that remains of that old stand are the poles and a few rotten cross braces. The set-up is on a pinch point where 2 trails meet and form into one. The single trail leads up a rise that is the old meander line of the river’s edge. The trail crosses an old fence; I cut the wires leaving only 2 strands a long time ago. Ever since, the deer beat a path crossing where the wires are cut. Dubby has been crossing here regularly during daylight hours.
With only half an hour of daylight left it happened fast. I had my eyes and head resting on the tree trunk with body aching. I heard crunch-crunch and slowly opened my eyes and there he was. I drew down on him as he crossed under the fence and shot as soon as he stood upright. There was good blood where I hit him. I backed out and went to the house, tried to eat and rest. Food and rest where not happening and in a few hours I am out the door with a flash light.
I guess he is the medicine I needed. As soon as I saw him my fever was gone and I suddenly had my energy back. Funny how that works and not only that, I am still unable to find words that explain the feeling of first placing hands on these antlers;
I can only imagine Dubby's potential in 3 years. Still, I have no regrets taking him young;
RIP . Dubby
AKA Little Drop
2013-2016
I remember when he showed up in 2014. His little drop tine set him apart from his juvenile accomplices. I could only hope "Little Drop" would survive the season;
Hope is an asset to be sought. Hope is but one attribute of faith, commonly fostered by the results of prayer. By 2015 I could only pray Little Drop would survive another season;
My prayers where answered and in early August he showed back up;
In one year's time, his antlers had blossomed into a respectable crown;
I renamed him "Dubby" and found myself obsessed with his pics. Checking trail cams can been just like Christmas;
I try to manage by only harvesting mature bucks. There in lies the conflict; Dubby is not a mature buck.
By the time he shed his velvet, I decided that he is an exception to the rule;
Should have renamed him the fever buck. I was sick as a dog when I shot him. It would take all my energy just to get to the stand. With temps in the 70s & 60s, I would sit in the stand freezing cold, shivering, and wishing for bed. During my hunts my fever broke multiple times. I would find a little relief in the breaking of sweat. At times, I felt I had all I could stand. I would get to the point of giving up and getting down, instead I would pull out my phone and look at trail cam pics. His pics gave me the motivation to stick it out and stay on stand;
The stand I was hunting is in a cedar tree, next to the skeleton of what used to be an enclosed stand built on telephone poles 30 years ago. Aside from memories, all that remains of that old stand are the poles and a few rotten cross braces. The set-up is on a pinch point where 2 trails meet and form into one. The single trail leads up a rise that is the old meander line of the river’s edge. The trail crosses an old fence; I cut the wires leaving only 2 strands a long time ago. Ever since, the deer beat a path crossing where the wires are cut. Dubby has been crossing here regularly during daylight hours.
With only half an hour of daylight left it happened fast. I had my eyes and head resting on the tree trunk with body aching. I heard crunch-crunch and slowly opened my eyes and there he was. I drew down on him as he crossed under the fence and shot as soon as he stood upright. There was good blood where I hit him. I backed out and went to the house, tried to eat and rest. Food and rest where not happening and in a few hours I am out the door with a flash light.
I guess he is the medicine I needed. As soon as I saw him my fever was gone and I suddenly had my energy back. Funny how that works and not only that, I am still unable to find words that explain the feeling of first placing hands on these antlers;
I can only imagine Dubby's potential in 3 years. Still, I have no regrets taking him young;
RIP . Dubby
AKA Little Drop
2013-2016
