Wagons West

Annually, the first weekend of November brings me to the place where I grew up, the Weiland Family Farm, located just south of Brainerd, Minnesota.  Here, the Minnesota rifle season is opened amidst the peak of the rut.  The hunt is always interesting as this particular time of the year can produce weather varying in “degree” from ten degrees to fifty and can also produce high winds, rain, sleet, snow, and everything in between.

 

The 2015 gun season in Minnesota had a very positive weather outlook as the opening weekend neared.  The week prior brought with it above-average temperatures that seemed to insult the weather gods and probably even proved tough on rutting bucks’ daytime activities.  Grasses which are normally brown and drab remained quite green and full of life.  However, two days prior to the opening scheduled day of rifle season which was November 7, 2015, temperatures were predicted to drop off to more “average” levels, even though the thermometers would still only barely be cracking freezing.

 

The boys, Nolan, John Daniel, my brother, Nicholas, and myself were all packed up and heading back to Brainerd with high hopes of a big whitetail and a long weekend of R & R in front of us.  Grandpa Dan had sent over a few teaser photographs during the prior weeks of a few bucks that he had photos of on his property so far this fall and there was the added factor that absolutely anything could show up during the rut in pursuit of a hot doe and a little added pressure from any of the bordering properties could always bring something new to the area.

 

We ventured west and found ourselves pulling into the driveway of my parents’ farm a little over an hour after sundown.  As I began turning into the driveway we noticed a big buck coming to the road’s edge just a hundred yards north of the farm and drove up to see if we could garner an additional look.  Sure enough, a very large buck!  -It was difficult to see whether he was an eight, a nine, or a ten point, but it was easy to see that he was indeed big.  –Big bodied and big antlers.  This was enough to get the blood pumping right off the bat and we weren’t even parked yet.

 

The opening morning of the season began cool, but not cold, and brought with it nearly immediate action.  I had a basket racked eight point come to a grunt call on a string just minutes after the opening bell tolled.  With it were several shots around the area and the season was well underway.  At about 7:30 am crashing followed by grunting and then more crashing ensued.  It quickly became evident that a doe was being chased by a buck through some of the poplar trees that my stand overlooked near a beaver dam.  I readied my gun as I had a gut feeling it was something big chasing, but didn’t know for certain.  What I did know was that in all likeliness I would have only a few seconds, if that, to make a quick decision if the deer kept moving through the woods the way that they were.  With that, suddenly a big doe popped out and was looking over her shoulder.  She was about 160 yards from me and trotted up the slashing in the poplars before dipping back into the trees.  Only a few seconds later, on the same trail, popped out a long-tined buck trotting with his head down to the ground and stopping to scan up and see where his newly-discovered love for that morning was.  Immediately, I identified it as a buck I would shoot if presented with the right shot and clicked my safety to the fire position.  The buck followed the exact path as the doe and trotted toward the stand before going broadside where he too would duck back into the poplars in pursuit.  Just as the buck turned broadside I grunted loud to stop him, centered the crosshairs, and let ‘er rip.

 

–The shot was a little quicker than I would have liked it to be, but there was no waiting around.  In this instance, there would be “the quick or the hungry” as one of my friends, Pat McGrew, once stated.  Fortunately, on this particular morning we would be eating well as my shot rang out the buck dropped immediately.  I had a suspicion that I had hit him a bit high severing his spine, but the buck lay completely motionless on the ground.  I watched the buck’s antlers, which was pretty much all I could really see through my scope for several minutes to ensure that he was down for good. 

 

In fact, I did not even get out of my stand for the next three hours as deer continued to move all around me that morning.  Several other small bucks were cruising through the woods with their noses to the ground in search of fresh doe scent and another buck was seen chasing a few does immediately to the south of my stand.  I finally got out of my stand at about eleven o’clock when my brother and father arrived.  Once out of the stand I told them how the morning went and we all went down to check out the buck that I had shot earlier.  In complete honesty I knew it was a solid buck, but had no idea as to what exactly he was as the entire time I saw him up on his feet before shooting was only mere seconds.

 

Upon inspection, it was indeed a very nice heavy horned eight point buck, probably a 4.5 year old.  The hit was indeed a bit high as I did sever his spine, but took out the top of his lungs as well.  The three of us went back to the farm, picked up my boys, and brought them back out to clean and pick the deer up.

 

The rest of the weekend continued to go well as we climbed the stands strewn across the Weiland Farm for the next few days with Nolan, and JD joining us on many of the hunts.  We saw several more bucks and a couple handfuls of does.  Nick, who was hunting with his bow, had some luck as well.  He put a nice shot on a deer that provided a great blood trail for JD to work. Later on in the weekend JD was with me when we shot a doe as she was being chased by a young buck only yards from our stand.  Other sightings on the farm included a bear and several grouse over the long weekend.

 

We got the deer all trimmed up and ready for the meat locker with all hands on deck as the Indian Summer continued to bless us.  –This annual ritual is one we all look forward to sharing with one another every year and look forward to many more trips west with “the boys” back to the Weiland Family Farm where it all began.