Herbert Grosshans: The Hunt of 2014, Part One

It's been a while since I posted last, but there was a good reason. My son and I, together with my friend Rudi and his son, went on our yearly deer hunting trip in the first week in November. We’ve been going to the same area for over 25 years and this year was no exception. For many years there were six of us and we shot our share of deer, quite a few nice bucks among them. All of us are running out of wall space to hang the mounted antlers, but somehow I always find another spot on one of my walls. Every buck we shoot is special and deserves to be remembered.

Unfortunately, this year things didn’t turn out as well as most of the previous years. The weather plays a major role. We’ve hunted in warm weather, extremely cold weather, in windy weather, in sleet, in rain and in snow storms. As an outdoor’s man (or woman) you have to adapt to the conditions.

Another thing that changes is the landscape. Trees and shrubs that once were small grow tall. Beavers built dams and flood the land. The area we hunt is used as community pasture where farmers keep the cattle during the summer. Within the last few years, the farmers cleared a large area of brush, cut down trees and changed the area into something not favourable for deer and hunters.

On top of everything, that part of our province received more rain than anyone can remember it ever getting, which meant that much of the land and bush area turned into mud, perfect for swamp dwellers, but a nightmare for hunters.

We couldn’t get to our usual camping spot because of the mud, so we had to set up camp as close as we could possibly get to our hunting area, which resulted in longer distances to walk.

A few years ago I built a tree stand from which I’ve shot many deer over the years. It had always been a good producer and there was no reason not to go there again. The road leading to it was flooded, so I had to find a different route. Checking my map I discovered an old cutline that should take me near my stand. Then it should be only a short trip through the bush. I had a compass and it would be no problem.

The cutline was partially overgrown but still visible. Things weren’t bad for the first 100 yards, but then the mud started. Every step was a battle. I sank into the mud to the top of my brand new insulated rubber boots, many times in danger of loosing my balance and ending face down in the mud. It was fortunate my boots were a good fit and stayed on my feet, otherwise the muddy ground might have claimed them. I persevered, because I needed to get to my deer stand. Nothing else mattered. Once I got there everything would be fine and worth the ordeal.

The muddy ground finally ended and then I stepped into a clearing. I didn’t know if it was mine, but looking toward the other end I saw my stand. From far, the new ladder I built the previous year seemed intact. I had worried the cattle might have destroyed it. As tired as I was, I could have done a little dance of happiness. A trip that should have taken no more than 20 minutes had taken twice that long, but it didn’t matter. Another five minutes and I’d be sitting in my comfortable deer stand ten feet above ground waiting for my big buck to make an appearance. Victory was near.

So I thought.

But, like so many dreams in life, not all dreams turn out the way we plan, and some are brutally shattered. When I got close to my stand, instead of breaking into a song of victory I felt like sobbing. The ladder was the only thing that was not broken. The rest of the stand looked like it had been visited by a drunken bear with a sledgehammer. There was no floor and the seat appeared intact only on one side. I climbed up the ladder and found the seat was still usable if I sat right at the edge. I would have to rest one foot on a crossbar in the front; the only thing left of the floor. However, as I got comfortable the seat broke and I held on for dear life to keep from ending up 10 feet below. I managed to climb down the ladder without any further mishaps.

Standing safely on the ground again, I looked around the clearing that had produced so many nice deer, and then with a heavy heart I bid my deer stand good bye. It was beyond repair and I didn’t feel like building a new one. My dream of sitting comfortably for this trip was over. I fought my way back to camp through the mud, taking a different route which was just as miserable to travel as the other one. Now I had to find a different place to hunt, because it was too difficult to reach my old clearing. Without a stand to sit on there was no point, anyway.

I’m telling you my sad tale not because I want you to feel sorry for me but to tell you that even sad stories sometimes have a happy ending.

Come back and find out what I’m talking about from my next blog. It will be a much happier tale.