Foxy Doxie

 

 

As it always seems to turn out, a quick weekend trip back in February 2013 turned into an extremely memorable one. The plan was to head up to the ranch in the Texas hill country, pull trail cameras, pick up pop up blinds to prevent weathering and damage, feed the cows and maybe do a little calling for predators and varmints. This wonderful piece of land is only populated with deer, varmints and predators so without hogs and turkey to hunt year round we try not to leave equipment out all year to prolong its use.

The first night we decided to set up by a small tank and use the Foxpro electronic caller. The moon was full so we had to remain concealed. As my husband and I scanned the area with our green lights we hadn’t seen much. We like to call in one area for about 20 minutes before moving on. We were using a woodpecker in distress call and right at the 20 minute mark we caught a glimpse of some eyes in the distance that quickly disappeared. We waited for a few minutes but never saw them again so we moved on.

We headed to another part of the ranch and set up to call near an open field and another tank. About 10 minutes in we saw a small grey fox come running in behind us. I was unable to take a shot because the cows had also come in to see what all the noise was and he ran right near the cows. I wasn’t in the mood for hamburger so I passed. It’s always important to know what is beyond your shot to prevent any accidents, especially at night. He circled around us and came out pretty far away. I tried for a shot with the 17HMR but with the distance he was at it didn’t quite work out. We decided to end the night and try again the next day.

The next morning we got up and headed back out to the first tank we had called at the night before. This time we set the call for the cottontail duet and waited. The fog was heavy, pretty much raining on us making it hard to see too far into the distance. About 15 minutes later a grey fox came over the tank running right at us. I picked up the 17HMR and took a shot; I hit him and he started spinning around. As we watched his fluffy tail in the tall broom weed I waited for a clear follow up shot but he never provided one. We grabbed the shotgun and headed in his direction and searched for about 30 minutes but couldn’t find him. With the fog, rain, and 3 foot tall broom weed it was nearly impossible to find such a well camouflaged animal in the mess. We called it off to go finish working on the ranch.

After about 5 hours of work, lunch, and feeding cows I decided it might be a good idea to go look for the fox again. This time however we enlisted the help of Muzzy, our miniature dachshund who has been learning to track deer with us. He was only 2 years old and but has a great nose so we took him over to the tank; there wasn’t any blood where I had shot the fox but all Muzzy needed to smell was where the fox had been standing and he was off with his nose to the ground. A few minutes later Muzzy had found blood and was on a mission. We followed close behind watching everywhere he stopped as he found more and more blood.

As you can imagine this took some time because Muzzy is so small and close to the ground he must maneuver through the tall brush and broom weed instead of being able to leap and bound over it like most larger dogs; but we trust him and just had patience. Almost 500 yards later Muzzy started to pick up speed and so did we. A few moments later he was barking and had found the fox…alive but wounded. Before we could catch up to him, Muzzy had grabbed the fox by his throat with his mouth, drug him out if the brush and was slinging him to the ground fighting him to the end. Go Muzzy!

Because this was one of Muzzy’s first real tracking encounters with a live animal, we weren’t sure how he was going to react but Muzzy got the job done. My shot was slightly low only broke the front leg and shoulder of the fox; it was enough for a great blood trail but not enough for a quick expiration. Thanks to our awesome doxie and his nose we were able to recover my fox.


Afterward Muzzy was a proud puppy of his kill and wanted to be in the picture with me. For those of you that have hunting dogs you know the feeling of pride you get when your hunting buddy succeeds and this was no different. He may not be your typical hunting dog but he has tracked 2 deer so far and now tracked and finished off my grey fox.

It was a wonderful success story for a quick trip. We were able to get our ‘chores’ done, have a little fun, and make another unforgettable memory. So even if you only have the weekend, get out there because sometimes the quick spontaneous trips end up being some of the best ones!

Update a few years later: Muzzy is almost 4 years old, has tracked many more deer, a few hogs, killed some birds, and a squirrel to add to his list. He also loves fishing with us! Although small he is mighty!

 

 

 

My MacGyver Moment

 

 

I always try to be as safe as possible when I am in the field, but sometimes things just happen; whether a pure accident or a result of my mistake, someone else’s mistake, or just me being clumsy. This moment happened during the 2011 deer hunting season. There were 3 of us hunting and the John Deer Gator we were driving truly only held 2 people up front comfortably; so since I was the first to be dropped off, I decided to ride in the back of the gator, while the warnings clearly say not to.

 

My ride was short to my drop off point, so it didn’t seem like a big deal. I rode in the back sitting down, holding my bow and my husband’s bow so he could drive. As he stopped he got out and I handed him my bow for some reason so I could climb out. I put one foot on the mini tailgate to step on and jump out, but the tail gate was not closed properly. This led to it opening and me falling towards the ground. All I could think about was I had my husband’s bow in my hand and I couldn’t let it hit the ground. If I dropped it he might have to re-sight it in, or I might break it. So as I fell toward the ground I raised my right hand in the air with his bow in it which only left me one hand to break my fall.

Instead however, my right knee absorbed the full impact being the first thing to hit the ground and luckily for me, my knee landed right on a rock. As I hit and rolled over on my back wincing in pain, I was still holding my husband’s bow high in the air. He asked if I was ok. My response….I said is your bow ok? He kept saying his bow was fine and checking on me. I looked at my knee and saw a hole in my leaf suit but only saw dirt on it. I said its hurts, but I’ll be fine; I just wanted to get my stuff and get to my stand. They drove off and I began the walk to my tree climber.

It became apparent that because my injury was on my knee, every time I bent it and took a step it opened the wound even more, causing more and more pain. I had on shorts (it was hot) with my leaf suit over the top which was causing more problems. The mesh from the suit was sticking to the wound. So I pulled the leg of it up over my knee to keep walking. I got to my tree climber and realized I was in for more pain. To climb the tree, I was going to have to bend my knees over and over to maneuver the climber up the tree. By this time, the dirt had worked itself out of the wound and blood was streaming down my leg.

 

All I could think about was getting in my stand and then I would figure it out there. So I climbed in pain and got settled in. As I set up all of my gear, I realized the first aid kit was in the Gator. Again not the brightest moment of not having some first aid gear in my backpack but lesson learned. I began to inventory the contents of my bag and put my MacGyver skills to work. I found a lens cleaning cloth that was in my binocular case which would be the wound dressing to absorb and stop the bleeding, at least of a while. Next I found my old back up head lamp that had an adjustable elastic head band. I removed the light and adjusted the band around my knee to press and hold the cloth onto my wound. It became my  homemade band-aid. I was able to pull my leaf suit leg over the bandage and was pretty much good to go.

 

The only problem was I could not elevate my leg sitting in the tree climber so my knee throbbed the entire hunt, but at least I stopped the bleeding. I still have the scar on my knee from that horrible fall, but I was a great wife by holding my husband’s bow in the air and saving it, even though my knee suffered the consequences. If that’s not dedication and awareness I don’t know what is haha!

Heals and Haunts

I mentioned in my previous blog “Baby Brows ‘Bout Time Buck” (http://camocandace.blogspot.com/2014/10/baby-brows-bout-time-buck.html) that I was working on a more ‘poetic’ version of the extreme emotional response to taking this buck…but to understand the highs, the lows must also be felt. In honor of the pure unfiltered bliss and bluster a hunter’s journey travels through I present this…I hope you can relate. 

  

Hunting; a consuming love triangle between me, my mind and the woods where learning how to fail is a staple of the journey.  It is a sickness that heals and haunts me, that brings me to the peak of my being and plunges to the depths of my soul. 

Before reaching a culmination of supreme perfection I press my face against the foundation of rock bottom where the cold, hard reality of heartbreak in the woods exists. Unfortunately this is not truly failure but a necessary moment each must turn and face at some point; however, in my mind and many like it, these are logged as failures long before a retrospective view is forced that ultimately leads to another scratch on the experience tree. There are moments where the bridge is burned solely to force a turnaround to face what you may have been avoiding or failed to see.

There goes my heart falling, falling, falling to the chasm created inside from a mistake, a misstep, or an uncontrollable moment only Mother Nature could create. When it hits, it hurts. It wrenches inside a pain that burns me, crushes confidence, ignites doubts, and envelops every thought. The world stops as a glimmer of self-pity sneaks in and weakness threatens to haunt me. I stagger and stumble through my mind in a cloud of disbelief, ambiguity, and empathy for any affected by this moment. It is a battle; it is hell on my mind, body and soul. Words cannot rectify it, comfort is out of reach and it is my solo internal struggle. Time, determination, dedication, and the inability to deny the fibers of my being will regenerate me and harmony will be restored; even if only briefly to carry on to witness the perfect moment we all seek. Unfortunately the return to heartbreak is nearly inevitable but it is the challenge, the moments, and the indescribable feelings inside that will always bring me back.

 After pure suffering through the dark moments of defeat, there comes a light that will shine brighter than ever before and blind the doubt that existed in my mind. With success comes renewed ambition, promise and confidence that the path I am on is deserved, honest, and merited. A successful shot is followed by a complete adrenaline release, uncontrollable shaking, tears, and a constant replay of the matter at hand. If the reward does not fall within sight all elation is stifled, just barely, by questionable ambivalence teetering on the brink of insanity followed by prayer. My heart is on the line, living in danger. Yes, no, good, bad, what if, please Lord.

But when that moment of confirmation arrives there is nothing, I mean nothing that can contain the passion, intensity and spirit of seeing the animal down. Typically I freeze in disbelief as my heart leaves my body and soars to the Heavens with gratitude and the tears continue to drain all logic from my mind leaving only emotion. It is raw, pure, unfiltered euphoria; a high like no other. As I move to feel the concrete evidence of my success and sustenance, the smile spread across my face can be seen for miles and is broken up with intervals of laughter as enthusiasm continues to exude from my body; in all forms of tears, laughter, dance, and embrace I am there in that moment and nowhere else. It, all of it, has come together. Perseverance, affliction, endless days and nights, Mother Nature, the intellectual warfare, physical complaints, and barraging battles unique to their own, all have collided in that moment and it cannot and will not be taken away…at least until the next meeting with the foundation of rock bottom starts its vicious cycle again.

It heals and it haunts…

Baby Brows ‘Bout Time Buck

 

 

*If you haven’t read my “Bittersweet Buck” blog, take a moment to go read that one before proceeding. It will help explain why Baby Brows is my ‘Bout Time Buck and add more meaning to this one. Here is the link: http://community.deergear.com/Article/BittersweetBuck I haven't updated it on my blog yet but its still currently up on the Legendary Whitetails page.

 

It was a typical weekend in the Texas Hill Country with rain forecasted which always seemed to happen when we headed there to hunt; it never failed it would rain at least one day but it was a hot Friday; Texas hot. We were hunting ground blinds in thick cedar (as much as I love being in a tree this area was not prime for tree stands, climbers, or even tripods so we had to forgo the hot boxes). It was 94 degrees and we sat in different areas; my husband, best buddy, and me, sweating, in shorts and snake boots waiting for the last possible moment to put on face masks or face paint. Rain was on the way the next 2 days so we were hoping for a successful hunt on Friday; It didn’t happen. We saw some movement but nothing legal or old enough.

 

 

Saturday morning it poured rain as we sat in our ground blinds listening to the pitter patter on the roof, watching a few drips come through, and hoping for it to let up and the deer to get moving. It didn’t happen. With a full moon and rain the odds were stacked against us but a cool front moved through with the rain and dropped the temperatures down to 59 degrees. The cloud cover from the cool front had blocked out the bright moon and Saturday afternoon looked to be the most promising for activity. We all made it to our stands early and I saw some movement about 4:00pm but nothing legal or mature. I was just happy to be in rain boots and pants instead of shorts and sweating!

 

 

A text message showed up on my phone about 6:30pm that our buddy shot a doe and he could see her laying about 20 yards from where he shot her. I texted back my congratulations and looked up to see a buck walk out of the brush. There he was standing broad side but with the antler restrictions in the county we were hunting I needed him to look at me or away to check his rack size. *The antler restrictions are for a 2 buck county where 1 buck must have one unbranched antler (a spike, 3 pt, or freak) and the other buck must have an inside spread greater than 13 inches, usually at the tips of their ears when alert. He finally turned to look in my direction and I confirmed he was big enough, a beautiful 9 pt. (The final measurement was 15 3/4 inches).  My heart began racing…

 

Trail Cam pic from the week before of Baby Brows

I was already in disbelief that this buck was even close enough to shoot. We were hunting a low fence, low deer population area with some of the most skittish deer I have ever hunted. They are definitely always on high alert compared to the deer I have hunted in South Texas and spook very easily; in 5 years of hunting this place the quantity of deer taken was low, well deer taken with a bow. The neighbors are content rifle hunting and shooting young deer or being reckless with their kills so our management of passing on young, although legal, bucks was in constant battle with those around us without the same management ideas. Regardless of what others were doing though we stayed true to our morals and ethics over the years and passed on young bucks more times than I can count hoping we would be rewarded.

 

As my heart started beating in my ears I made the decision of using my 20 yard pin. He was standing about 25 yards away because I had ranged a group of cactus in front of him at 22 yards and a group behind him at 28 yards earlier when I first got in the blind. I try to range landmarks early instead of waiting until the deer is in front of me to range distance so I can eliminate unnecessary movement. As I began to lift my bow, I caught a glimpse of another set of antlers in the brush so I pulled out my binoculars to look. He was a much younger buck but now I had another set of eyes to potentially bust me. My buck was now alternating between looking forward at the other buck and in my direction at the blind. I was completely blacked out in the blind with a long sleeve black shirt and black face mask but as I mentioned before, these deer are always on high alert.

 

I was trying to calm my breathing as I picked up my bow to draw. There wasn’t a breath of wind and the woods were dead silent so I knew I was going to have to be extremely stealthy and make small movements. I drew back but it was the slowest I had ever drawn my bow making it the most difficult. The adrenaline was pumping and as I lowered my pins onto his shoulder they went black. No longer could I see the fiber optics of my pins of green, yellow, red etc; instead my tunnel vision took over and I watched my top 20 yard pin hover over his shoulder. At this point he had turned in my direction and was looking at the blind. I watched the muscles in his shoulders for any type of twitch that would indicate he was about to run just as I released on him.

 

He didn’t jump my string and as my arrow slammed into his shoulder I heard the beautiful ‘thwack’ of the hit. He turned and I saw about 4 inches of my arrow with the lighted nock stick out. My arrow had passed through, although not a complete pass through, but I knew I had made enough penetration to drop him hopefully nearby. I could only watch him run a few yards before he was out of sight because the cedar trees are extremely thick; so I listened. I thought I heard a crash but my heart was still in my ears and I was shaking so bad I wasn’t sure what I heard. I fumbled for my phone to text that I had just shot a buck. Now the hard part…wait. I waited for about 30-45 minutes and my husband crossed the ranch to meet me to start tracking.

 

It was now dark and the ground was still wet from the rain and visions of my Bittersweet Buck danced in my head for fear of the same situation. I found blood at the impact site and both pieces of my arrow 5 yards behind there covered in blood. It resembled a lung shot because of the air bubbles so I knew the blood trail was going to be more minimal than a heart shot. We began tracking a small blood trail, marking each last spot with my lighted nock before moving forward. The positive of the wet ground was the imprints of his tracks as he ran and dug into the ground. We had only tracked about 30 yards when we saw a large pile of fresh deer droppings and a larger pool of blood. We both smiled at each other because that was a great sign! We both shined our flashlights up and there another 10 yards was my buck lying against a tree.

 

 

From where I stood I couldn’t even see his antlers but I didn’t care. I immediately burst into uncontrollable tears (yes ladies probably the ugly cry) from joy, years of hard work and never giving up, accomplishment and gratefulness. I just stood there holding my hands over my mouth as 100% pure unfiltered emotion took over. I grabbed my husband as he gave me a big hug and I cried. He walked over to him first because I was still frozen and ensured he was expired and grabbed his antlers. I finally followed and was able to see my buck as I took a huge deep breath. It is so hard to explain in words that exact moment and feeling especially after years of heartbreak and frustration; it was ‘Bout Time!!! (and if you couldn't tell the name Baby Brows came from his super small brow tines but they had character because he had green moss/tree leaves on them from rubbing - which I also found a fresh rub while tracking him!)

 

 

I filled out and attached my tag, loaded him up and then headed to pick up our buddy’s doe he had already tagged and field dressed. We headed back to camp to take a few pictures and hurry to get him cleaned and on ice. Although it was a cooler night, the temperatures still required us to get him cleaned, quartered and on ice as soon as possible. We decided on a European mount for my buck and wrapped his head up for transport. I was on cloud nine for the rest of the weekend (ok... I still am) and could barely sleep that night with such a big grin on my face! The entire hunt from start to finish was an out of body experience that I replay over and over in my mind that I will never forget.

 

I am working on a more poetic version of the feelings, emotions, sights, sounds and overwhelming joy in an attempt to explain that moment from my heart in a way that I feel will capture it to the best of my ability.

 

 

 

   Also I want to give a huge shout out to Deer Creek Cover scent who not only personalized my dirt foam soap, bar soap, after shower body spray, and scent cover field spray but kept me stealth in the field! This ground blind ninja is one happy huntress!