© 2009 Albert A Rasch and
The Rasch Outdoor Chronicles
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Well, that's why it's called "Hunting," and not shopping.
Due to some stuff going down yesterday and this morning, I didn't get to the WMA until mid-afternoon. By then it was good and warm, the sun shining and the humidity doing its best to make me as soggy as a chip in the sink.
After paying my entry fee, a very reasonable $3.00, I showed my license and archery tag to the volunteer at the check-in. He kindly helped me fill out the WMA card, and showed me where to put it at the end of the day in case he wasn't there anymore.
I drove down the road, made right turn where it teed, and drove until I found a partially obscured dirt trail that presumably would lead me to the old hunting camp that existed there long ago.
I decided at the last moment to bring my Browning compound instead of my longbow. I really want to take a deer with my SeigeWork American, but I want the wood arrows to make the experience complete. They should be here by weeks end, and then I'll take them out with the longbow.
I load up my pockets with the essentials, and start down the path. I only brought a few things with me, a TacPac (Those broadheads are sharp!), my magnesium fire starter, and a Case knife in case I got lucky. I had ten feet of cord in my pocket, my camera, and a do rag for my face.
I think I walked for about fifteen minutes, and still hunted another 30 or so until I got to an open area adjacent to what I think was the old camp.
Finding a convenient place to set up wasn't easy. The breeze had picked up a little, so that required me to circle as quietly as I could to the south, and then finding a place to sit was just about impossible. I finally settled on a crooked and bent tree that I could half sit, and half lean against.
I was there for a good hour, feeling all sorts of drowsy when some rustleing in the leaves alerted me. The squirrels had been doing their thing all afternoon, but this sounded more deliberate, and definitely from something bigger. But unfortunately it drifted off away from me, and I never got to see it.
Another hour passed, and drops of sweat gathered and spilled their way down my face. Once again I heard noise coming from the west, but these where the methodical sounds of a person tromping through the woods.
I silently watched him pass within thirty yards of where I half stood, half leaned.
The squirrels got back to business and birds flew through the scrub on occasion. Other than that, nothing else moved as the sun began its final decent.
I got to the truck while there was just enough light to see in front of me, so I timed it pretty well.
I had a good if not quite successful hunt. I need to get a tree stand, and I really should carry a pen light. I think I'm going to give it another go this Friday afternoon, but if not then definitely this coming Tuesday again.