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- Category Hunting Stories
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- Prostaff Member Trout Whisperer
The first frost of this fall, came one night prior to the second frost. They came kinda sudden to my way of thinking. That second frost was one night before the archery bow season started around my home woods. So for the first time in many years I sat in my tree stand without any mosquitoes flitting around and that was a very special treat, one I'm not used to, but could get used too. When I'm bow hunting, I don't expect bugs, and I'm not a big fan of little bugs to begin with, so not swatting at, or having to listen to them buzzing about, was much appreciated by ol mother nature knocking them off for me.
Sitting in the stand, after not sitting in the stand for better than a year took awhile to get used to again, first my butt needed to adjust to the old metal seat. I know there isn't more metal seat this year, perhaps less metal seat, but this year it seemed abit tighter, so I may need to adjust that, every time I take the stand.
I don't as a general rule shoot big deer, but I do get a deer out of this balsam stand every so often and one of my favorite reasons to perch the big metal ladder in here each fall is in every little breeze I get plenty of pine scented aroma therapy. When it's unusually wet the very ground sends up the years attempt at leaf composting. I like that rich earthen dirt smell and after a few hours of breathing that, I can go back in the house and pour a glass of something that tastes just about as good, especially on nights not to distant that the evenings frosts will chill me.
I like that Chickadees and kinglets almost every time I sit here, flit through checking every branch for some errant seed, maybe next years insects eggs stuck to the underside of a piece of loose bark, but they come, they glean the place pretty consistently and the chickadees Dee, Dee, dee'ing is always an added benefit to what's supposed to be a very silent style of hunting. Chickadees are smart, and friendly, because if I set the stand at 14 feet above the level of deer tracks, that's the height those little birds come past at.
Speaking of deer tracks, today, not twenty minutes into my backside adjusting period a nubbin buck is slowly making his way towards my stand. That old familiar shake is racing through my hands and legs even though I've told my brain I aint shootin that little buck.
He moseys along, I watch him nibble raspberry cane leaves, and then it's a snippet of one low hanging maple leaf. He wanders along the trail out of my sight. My shaking subsides, then in what's seems only minutes, which has actually been three hours, the woods goes quiet and the sun sets. I get up and stretch, and decide to head for home; I'm done with my initial adjustments for this week. The trout whisperer