Hunters across the state schedule their vacation time to coincide with the rut, but what are bucks really doing? Is the rut the best time to be in the woods?
The Friday (Nov. 27) opener of the annual WMA managed hunts was great for the early morning hunt. It was a cold and foggy boat ride up the East Pearl River. One boat had already gone by the launch with no running lights; hope no one else was on the water with him. Running lights, life jackets, flotation devices, etc., serve a purpose, and I hope you use them when you are on the water.
We made it safely to our destination, and at 6 a.m. I am sitting on my log where I had watched a fawn and doe the previous Tuesday morning. At 6:30, I see movement to the east and detect a big black hog moving through the woods to the west. The porker does not respond to my pig call, but it passes through an opening and it jumps like a bucking horse when the .444 bullet hits it.
At 7 a.m., I get a call from one of my other hunters, ace tracker David Stafford, who reports that he has killed a nubby buck. I go look for the hog and finally pick up a blood trail that leads to a great big briar patch.
I make numerous attempts to work my way into the briar patch from the north and south, but I cannot get to the spot where the blood trail is. At 10:30 a.m., I hook up with young Stafford, a junior at Franklinton High School. He is from good stock (his father and grandfather are excellent hunters) and last year he led us to the buck my son-in-law killed.
David is crawling on his belly through the briars and is commenting that the blood trail is good and this pig is dead. I am hacking my way into the briars toward him; the briars are so thick we both have put our rifles down, and I cannot see him in the briars even though he is wearing an orange jacket. We finally meet up at a big Katrina Oak on the ground. The blood trail leads straight into the root ball that is up in the air and is covered with briars.
I keep asking him about the blood and he says that it is a lot of blood and the pig is dead. We are discussing the next move when we hear a grunt/snort/squeal, and the dead hog runs straight toward us passing about a foot from young Stafford.
He yells at me, “Mr. David, you didn’t tell me the pig was that big.”
I am counting my blessings that I was on the other side of the tree and that David was not in the way of the hog. We make a big sweep in the area the hog ran through (after retrieving our rifles), but the pork chops are gone and there is no more sign.
There appears to be more acorns on Pearl River this year than I had originally thought, so no doubt as the winter progresses the game will be searching for them. David’s 6-month-old buck weighed 60 pounds, a nice weight for a fawn, so maybe the habitat that Katrina produced is benefiting the deer. The 5-year-old doe I killed the week before only weighed 80 pounds, which is not good. I think state Deer Study Leader Scott Durham is planning to do some nutritional studies in the state and perhaps look at the quality of the Pearl River browse.
The overall harvest of deer on Pearl River that Friday was only four, which shows just how tough the area is to hunt.
I told my wife this morning (Dec. 1) that the rain is supposed to stop Wednesday afternoon, and I am going to go to Clinton and my White House at Camp David. She suggested that since this weekend is busy with our grandson’s second birthday on Saturday and her parent’s 70th wedding anniversary on Sunday I should go today and Wednesday. Well you know, dear, my other deer are not going to be moving today and I would only get wet. But, a 70th wedding anniversary is pretty special – a 50th is not uncommon, but 70 is a lifetime, so I will cut the hunting short to make sure the house and yard look suitable.