ARTICLE: MY SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE HUNTS: 2007, A RETROSPECTIVE
  For those readers that have read past articles in this series you’ll be familiar with the tales of woe I’m about to relate to you. If you’re new to this series then I warn you to continue reading at your own risk. For you see these aren’t the usual hunting success stories you’re so familiar with reading in the big national magazines. No, these are tales of me, the “Charlie Brown” of deer hunting that’s always in the wrong place at the right time or just plain misses an easy shot at a deer that’s about to keel over from old age. That’s why I call these stories, My Series Of Unfortunate Hunts.
  As in years past I was full of anticipation when bow season rolled around. I had practiced with my bow, my knives were sharp and my hunting clothes de-scented. I was as ready has I would ever be so off to the ranch I went on opening weekend.
  My optimism slowly diminished over the three days I hunted. No deer were seen during hunting hours. No bucks, no does, no fawns, nothing at all. I hunted from a tree stand overlooking a clover field to a ground blind along a travel route. There were tracks, rubs and a few small scraps the bucks had started to make but nothing showed their fuzzy brown heads.
  Since I didn’t need to waste my time skinning and quartering deer, I was left with plenty of time to plant a couple of food plots. It was kind of late to get them in but I was hoping that with a little rain and a lot of luck they would be ready for gun season six weeks away.
  One story I’d like to relate happened the last morning I hunted.
  I decided to take the long way back to the truck and walked by one of the food plots just to see if any deer had been curious the previous night and came to see why the field was worked up. Sure enough, there were tracks in the freshly worked up dirt. As I stood there surveying the plot I heard a banging noise and glanced toward this old barn at the edge of the field just in time to see the biggest coyote I had ever saw come bursting out and running up the hill. He must have been snooping around the old barn trying to scrounge up a mouse or two. Though it wasn’t a deer, I thought it was kind of cool seeing a coyote at that time of day.
  I headed home later that day putting the last few days out of my mind and pumping myself up for some muzzleloader hunting in Oklahoma a few weeks later.
  The trip to my friend David’s ranch in Oklahoma was uneventful and I arrived as usual a couple of days before opening day to get comfortable, set some stands and check my gun. The usual crowd was there, Robert, Dano, Brentt, David and a couple of new guys, Mike and Dave.
  The first thing I told the boys I was going to do was go shoot a dog, coyote, cow or something in the leg so I could get the bad luck monkey off my back. See they had nicknamed me “The Crippler” the year before for my great exploits in the art of deer hunting. I was determined not add fuel to the fire. Those guys can be downright relentless when they latch on to something. Anyway…..
  Opening morning I hunted one of my favorite spots, Cripple Creek. I had renamed the spot from Cedar Creek two years earlier after…well that’s not important right now. I saw no deer but was really excited about the evening hunt as that’s when I had always seen most of the deer when hunting that spot.
  That evening a nice little four point came in to entertain me for a while as he grazed around the food plot. Things were looking up. Sometime later I heard some splashing noise and looked down in the creek to see a doe walking straight up the middle of the creek to the plot. She wasn’t ten yards from me so I got a good look at her. She wasn’t a fawn nor was she a mature doe. I guessed her age at a year and half old.
  She walked up the bank and started nosing around the food plot. I put my crosshairs on her and considered my options. Fill my doe tag with this young deer with an hour and half left to hunt on the opening evening or wait for a bigger doe to show that day or another evening that week. I had a dilemma.
  I decided to pass on her and watched as she filled her belly and then mosey off up the trail. It was a big mistake! As it turned out that was the only shot I had for the rest of the week. I should have known. Think long, thing wrong.
  There were a couple of deer taken that season. Dan took a big doe opening morning and Mike and Dave both took a doe in the next few days. Robert reported seeing deer every time he went out though he never fired a shot. He said they were all too small. It was his lie so we let him tell it anyway he wanted.
  Where were the bucks? There was a lot of good sign around. We figured the full moon was to blame making the bucks move at night. The full moon also motivated most of the does to move at night too. By the end of the week I anticipated the moon to wane some and hoped the deer activity would pick up before I had to leave.
  Sure enough on the last morning we hunted David missed a great ten pointer at sixty yards. David had concluded it was a clean miss since there wasn’t a blood trail only a small tuft of belly hair where the buck had been standing when the shot occurred. He searched several hours before we joined in the search. No new evidence was uncovered but we had to look anyway.
  I’ll finish this chapter with this little story from that trip. A story about Dano and Robert.
  Robert always stayed out longer than anyone else in the mornings and stayed on stand well after dark in the evenings. Dano, always being back at camp before him, would turn on his radio to a certain channel at a certain time he and Robert had agreed upon in the event either one needed some help in any way. I decided to do the same with mine though they didn’t know it.
  I would go into my camper under the pretense of changing clothes, getting a snack or something else. I would then turn on my radio and push the page button and listen for Dano’s radio to ring outside. Many times I’d thought he would hear me laughing as I listened to him and Robert argue over who was calling who.
  "Robert, are you there? Do you need help?" Dano would say.
  "No I don’t need help. You called me." Robert would respond.
  "Well it did that ringing thing again. I don’t know what’s going on." Dano would explain. "Maybe it’s them other guys. (Mike and Dave) They’ve been jabbering on the radio all day."
  I did this to them every chance I could. Once I thought I was busted as I forgot to turn my volume down and thought Dano would hear his own voice coming from inside my camper. He didn’t and they never caught on. Guess the cats out of the bag now. I’ll have to think up something new for this year.
  As usual I had a great time and a lot of fun. I look forward to going back this fall. Sooner or later the odds have to switch in my favor, right? Yeah, whatever helps me sleep at night. I did mention to David a few days into the hunt that I was kind of upset. He asked me why and I told him "It’s Monday already and I haven’t crippled anything yet. I got a reputation to uphold."
  In the next chapter I’ll continue with the rest of my hunting season. It doesn’t get any better. Until next time – Jim Bob
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