OK boys, I have pre-rut vacation updates...
I rifle hunt up north on the rut, and so I take several days during the pre-rut to bow hunt down where I live.
Day 1
Sunday I worked a night shift, but cut a deal to get out early. I got up to my area at 5:15am to start the long hike into my best spot. This is a super thick patch of flooded timber and cedars. The water levels are really high, which I love because it keeps the other hunters out. Anyhow on my walk in I have to cross a small log bridge I built over a small but deep channel. Sure enough, I blow out and take a dive. both of my hip waders are full of water, and my a$$ and lower torso are soaked. I stripped off, wrung out all my gear and redressed. It was 3C (37F for you yankees), so not too cold thankfully. I did have a chance of clothes in the truck, but I was committed. I pushed on and climbed my best tree on favourable wind. A few hours go by and I have used everything I have to get/stay warm (drank all my thremos, put heat packs in my shirt, eaten all I got...). At 9am two does come out of the thick stuff coming perfectly to me. In this situation I will take a doe, but I am on the lookout for bucks that are following. Either the wind swirled a bit, they saw some movement by me, or their deer intuition kick in, but they stopped and changed direction out of my view. 20 min later, on bad wind in the thick stuff there is a giant commotion and a deer runs off through the flooded timber. My mind clearly comes to believe that I have now blown my best spot.... I hang on until 11am, and now between being wet and really cold, and exhausted I decide it is time to go. As I am climbing down (bolts), with my legs split between two well spaced out steps, I feel the need to fart. No problem. Wait, yes big problem - that wasn't a fart... Needless to say I hiked out totally defeated...
Day 2
The wind is perfect for that same spot as day 1. I am super reluctant to go in there again, because I am worried I have blown it out, but I decide to give it a shot. This time, instead of hiking in through all the water (~2km), I am going back to running the canoe. This solves one problem and creates another. The stream is really small, and there is sh!t tonnes of deadfall. Normally in the summer I go in and clear a bunch of it, so I can canoe, but it didn't happen this year. My buddy and start our paddle in, and hit a big fallen tree right away. I figure we are in for it. To make a long story short, we push through all manner of **** and get to our area. Mark goes to an area he likes, I go to my main spot - same tree as day 1. This time i am dry, warm and happy as a clam. The early morning is uneventful, I dont even hear anything that makes me think there is anything going on.
At 11am, across the hardwoods the story starts to change. 100 yards off, following the far bank of the stream moving South towards me is a deer. I focus more closely, and see quickly that it is a big deer. Then I see his rack as he moved forwards, and this is a monster. Just a huge 10 pointer. This is the kind of deer that can get the puck out of the corner... Wind is West and if he moves further South he is going to scent me, but I blow a soft grunt to see if he will come check me out, and he looks over for quite a while, but ultimately holds his course and disappears into the thick stuff. With a rifle, that deer is down, but on an archery hunt i never had a chance.
Shortly afterwards, Mark texts me to say that a deer has crossed the stream between us. There is some more movement near me which catches my attention, so I am feeling really good about deer activity in the area. Mark and I are determined to sit all day, and I have found my new phantom to be pretty comfortable. Now it starts to rain, and rain pretty hard. I hunker down...
Now it gets hard mentally. I am warm, but after 7, 8 hours in the saddle your brain starts to hurt. All I have to do is text Mark and say "let's pull out" - but I hold. Well sure enough, just when you think you are beat mother nature decides to share her bounty. In the thick stuff to my left I see an antler flash. The buck is sniffing the ground and moves right to the edge of my first shooting lane at 30yards. He takes a couple of steps forward, I "meep" and let fly on a great rear quartering shot. That was 3:07pm after ~9 hours of sitting.
We go through our standard routine, wait an hour and then go check out the bolt (i could see the illuminated knock sticking out of the ground from the stand). Flights had nice looking blood. Now tracking blood is a huge issue because the whole area is watery and it is raining hard. We fine virtually no blood, but to make a long story short, we find him piled up about 75yrds from where he was hit. The best part is that in searching for him, we found at least 15 scrapes all immediately around that area. This is a perennial hot spot, but this is the most sign I have ever seen there.
So, we have a decent, Canadian born and raised 8 pointer in the books. Today I have taken the day off, but will be back up that stream Thurs and Fri...