At the ripe age of fifteen, "J" is 72 inches of youthful vigor, gargantuan appetite, and LARGE feet.
The world is his oyster and he is eagerly waiting for the pearl formation process to begin as he enters each new day with a smile, positive attitude, and joy at being alive.
Last year the neophyte hunter bagged his first deer on the ranch by taking a doe. This year the stakes were raised a tad to include one of the several "spikes" that roam the Tin Star.
Last evening near dusk young Daniel Boone very ably planted a .270 projectile that competently initiated the venison sausage ceremony for yet another year.
Cost of the bullet: $1.00
Seeing "J" exhilarated with adrenalin at taking his first buck: PRICELESS!
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Thursday, November 25, 2010
The Future
The testosterone swollen neck immediately signaled gender as the sleek, but muscular male silently tiptoed from the demarcation between brush and pasture.
He was an excellent example of conditioning, fortunate genetics, and substantial food supply. However, groceries were not the priority this November afternoon. The breeding season is full bore and feminine companionship was paramount for the young buck.
Nose to the ground and eyes ever trained on the surrounding foliage, the would be suitor gave no notice to the ole ranch hand concealed in the ubiquitous deer blind.
Regardless of the opportunity, a shot was not to be.
Although handsome in presentation, this particular item of ranch inventory was the future. At two to three years of age, the eight points of the white tail's horns gave but promise of later antler glory and a hunting story yet to be told.
Maybe next year?
He was an excellent example of conditioning, fortunate genetics, and substantial food supply. However, groceries were not the priority this November afternoon. The breeding season is full bore and feminine companionship was paramount for the young buck.
Nose to the ground and eyes ever trained on the surrounding foliage, the would be suitor gave no notice to the ole ranch hand concealed in the ubiquitous deer blind.
Regardless of the opportunity, a shot was not to be.
Although handsome in presentation, this particular item of ranch inventory was the future. At two to three years of age, the eight points of the white tail's horns gave but promise of later antler glory and a hunting story yet to be told.
Maybe next year?
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Wind
The extraction of the kinetic energy from wind and conversion of it into a useful type of energy; thermal, mechanical, or electrical is a worthy endeavor.
The application of wind to deer hunting is a bane to success.
The varmits key on sound and movement. Start shaking every little thing in the woods with a passle of wind and ya got a recipe for hunting failure as the ever elusive forest ruminants will hide in the brush till hell freezes over?
If ya git the ideer that the ole fat boy ain't seen hide nor hair of the trophy buck this morn...ya are on the right track???????
Hmmmm...there is always "tomorrow"!
The application of wind to deer hunting is a bane to success.
The varmits key on sound and movement. Start shaking every little thing in the woods with a passle of wind and ya got a recipe for hunting failure as the ever elusive forest ruminants will hide in the brush till hell freezes over?
If ya git the ideer that the ole fat boy ain't seen hide nor hair of the trophy buck this morn...ya are on the right track???????
Hmmmm...there is always "tomorrow"!
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Gobbler Grease
The ole fat boy strolled out the back door this mid-morn and immediately heard the busy cluck of a flock of wild turkey in the nearby tree line.
Easin' back into the house, the hungry hunter slipped a 7mm-08 cartridge into the breech of the Ruger and eagerly awaited a poultry bounty.
Right as rain, the winged varmits walked and flew from the brush in toothless anticipation of the bright yellow corn at the feeder.
Then the suckas clucked their gossip, while dancing their head bobbin' crooked walk to and fro with no rhyme or reason, until they was out of sight in the distant back woods????
Yep, no shot, no meat?
Unloaded the protein collection device and figgered would blast some feathers another day.
Looked back and the teasin' rascals was sash-shayin' back into view as if to tempt the fate of gun powder driven lead yet again?????
Wright City boys know that free groceries don't come to the table every day so the ranch hand ratcheted a bullet in the carbine one mo' time and drew a careful bead on a cocky tom with a seven inch beard.
Squeeze the trigger, which weren't loaded with no sofa pillers, and scratched one male of the gobbler species.
True to their raisin', once the commotion died down, the whole herd of grasshopper wranglers gathered round the dearly departed and held a (clucking) eulogy.
Although not one to be greedy, the country rifleman opted to harvest one of the more succulent looking hens as compliment to the first "victim".
Ranch hand: 2
Turkeys: 0
Heat the grease!
Easin' back into the house, the hungry hunter slipped a 7mm-08 cartridge into the breech of the Ruger and eagerly awaited a poultry bounty.
Right as rain, the winged varmits walked and flew from the brush in toothless anticipation of the bright yellow corn at the feeder.
Then the suckas clucked their gossip, while dancing their head bobbin' crooked walk to and fro with no rhyme or reason, until they was out of sight in the distant back woods????
Yep, no shot, no meat?
Unloaded the protein collection device and figgered would blast some feathers another day.
Looked back and the teasin' rascals was sash-shayin' back into view as if to tempt the fate of gun powder driven lead yet again?????
Wright City boys know that free groceries don't come to the table every day so the ranch hand ratcheted a bullet in the carbine one mo' time and drew a careful bead on a cocky tom with a seven inch beard.
Squeeze the trigger, which weren't loaded with no sofa pillers, and scratched one male of the gobbler species.
True to their raisin', once the commotion died down, the whole herd of grasshopper wranglers gathered round the dearly departed and held a (clucking) eulogy.
Although not one to be greedy, the country rifleman opted to harvest one of the more succulent looking hens as compliment to the first "victim".
Ranch hand: 2
Turkeys: 0
Heat the grease!
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Morning Bounty
It's the second Saturday of the 2011 deer season and the predawn sky most resembled dark gray dryer lint pulled into long strands across a slate background.
The coming sun gave promise of its glory by slowly oozing a soft pink into the landscape as it gathered energy for its daily passage across the Tin Star Ranch sky.
Daylight brought the welcome visit of four does slowly walking toward their morning drink at the pond.
A "latecomer" eventually trotted across the pasture in pursuit of her companions, obviously distressed for missing the wake up call.
Thereafter, a dozen turkey hens strolled thru the brush, perused the ubiquitous corn feeder, and clucked their daily gossip to each other as they meandered back into the brush.
No shots fired by the mighty hunter, but all is good and the ranch hand is elated at the bounty of the morning!
The coming sun gave promise of its glory by slowly oozing a soft pink into the landscape as it gathered energy for its daily passage across the Tin Star Ranch sky.
Daylight brought the welcome visit of four does slowly walking toward their morning drink at the pond.
A "latecomer" eventually trotted across the pasture in pursuit of her companions, obviously distressed for missing the wake up call.
Thereafter, a dozen turkey hens strolled thru the brush, perused the ubiquitous corn feeder, and clucked their daily gossip to each other as they meandered back into the brush.
No shots fired by the mighty hunter, but all is good and the ranch hand is elated at the bounty of the morning!
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Deer Loafin'
The ranch hand has engaged in deer hunting for nigh on 40 years.
Deer "hunting", or more aptly named deer "working", involves a myriad of laborious activities.
First ya gotta walk all over creation in the woods and find a suitable place to ambush the suckers. Next ya have to haul to that place, or construct on site, a "hiding" spot for military observation of the varmits. Then comes the brush/limb cutting for creation of "shooting lanes", as well as the interminable ritual of filling one's corn feeder with "bait".
The weather is a whole other subject in deer "hunting". Ya got your garden variety cold, and then there is the mind numbing, butt freezing, "why am I here" cold. Yep, rain, insects, snakes, skunks...you name it, deer "hunting" is a male rodeo on many levels.
Fortunately, the ole fat boy's testosterone has diminished sufficiently in dotage for "ego" to allow deer "LOAFIN".
That's right sports fans. We are talking being in the heated sun room, laid back in the recliner, chosen beverage at hand, TV remote nearby, and the always necessary bathroom but a step away. Hell, ya can sneeze, cough, fart, and generally wiggle around as the innocent woodland creatures have no clue that Ruger 7mm-08 death waits behind the windows of the loafin' room.
Course the pretty days still find the chubby one sitting outside for the hunt, but old age and treachery have finally overcome masculine dumass (to a small degree?).
Deer "hunting", or more aptly named deer "working", involves a myriad of laborious activities.
First ya gotta walk all over creation in the woods and find a suitable place to ambush the suckers. Next ya have to haul to that place, or construct on site, a "hiding" spot for military observation of the varmits. Then comes the brush/limb cutting for creation of "shooting lanes", as well as the interminable ritual of filling one's corn feeder with "bait".
The weather is a whole other subject in deer "hunting". Ya got your garden variety cold, and then there is the mind numbing, butt freezing, "why am I here" cold. Yep, rain, insects, snakes, skunks...you name it, deer "hunting" is a male rodeo on many levels.
Fortunately, the ole fat boy's testosterone has diminished sufficiently in dotage for "ego" to allow deer "LOAFIN".
That's right sports fans. We are talking being in the heated sun room, laid back in the recliner, chosen beverage at hand, TV remote nearby, and the always necessary bathroom but a step away. Hell, ya can sneeze, cough, fart, and generally wiggle around as the innocent woodland creatures have no clue that Ruger 7mm-08 death waits behind the windows of the loafin' room.
Course the pretty days still find the chubby one sitting outside for the hunt, but old age and treachery have finally overcome masculine dumass (to a small degree?).
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Rich Blessings
In theory, the affinity to "deer hunting" has direct relation to pursuit of the elusive forest ruminant.
In reality, it is only rookies that attach significance to the acquisition of venison.
The ranch hand's "hunt" this fine afternoon did not include so much as the sighting of an insect.
And yet.....the experience was a tranquil, soul satisfying experience which drained all vestige of life's trials from a tired and worn body.
The peace born of solitude, communion with nature, and all of God's creation is a priceless experience beyond comparison.
Truly, the quantity of game has no relation to the quality of the moment.
Thank you, oh Lord, for a blessing most rich.
In reality, it is only rookies that attach significance to the acquisition of venison.
The ranch hand's "hunt" this fine afternoon did not include so much as the sighting of an insect.
And yet.....the experience was a tranquil, soul satisfying experience which drained all vestige of life's trials from a tired and worn body.
The peace born of solitude, communion with nature, and all of God's creation is a priceless experience beyond comparison.
Truly, the quantity of game has no relation to the quality of the moment.
Thank you, oh Lord, for a blessing most rich.
Alpha Dawgs
The youngster was shy about his pasture debut.
Tentative steps led from the dense brush into full view, but body language suggested lack of confidence.
Timidity was understandable as the neophyte was entering the jousting arena of the tall dawgs.
This was the battlefield of tenured testosterone warriors who are long of antler and short of patience in their fight for the privilege of resident females.
The dwindling light of the evening sun eventually allowed confirmation of an empty pasture. There would be no challenge from older suitors on this day.
The immature six point buck was free to explore the pasture, graze on the corn, and generally "rule" the area for a brief moment in time.
The ranch hand, thru this brief glimpse, saw the future of the Tin Star herd.
Here's hopin' to see that youngun' another day as the alpha dawg in the mix.
Tentative steps led from the dense brush into full view, but body language suggested lack of confidence.
Timidity was understandable as the neophyte was entering the jousting arena of the tall dawgs.
This was the battlefield of tenured testosterone warriors who are long of antler and short of patience in their fight for the privilege of resident females.
The dwindling light of the evening sun eventually allowed confirmation of an empty pasture. There would be no challenge from older suitors on this day.
The immature six point buck was free to explore the pasture, graze on the corn, and generally "rule" the area for a brief moment in time.
The ranch hand, thru this brief glimpse, saw the future of the Tin Star herd.
Here's hopin' to see that youngun' another day as the alpha dawg in the mix.
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