By Glen Wunderlich Outdoor Columnist Member Professional Outdoor Media Association
With the late-season antlerless deer season underway, time to wait for another chance afield was running out. The predictable attractiveness of the lush -and still green – brassica food plot had provided ample opportunities with snow on the ground and many chances were well within range with my modern Knight smokepole over the past few weeks. My second whitetail was harvested on November 28th and immediate reloading of the stout Barnes bullet had me wondering if the three-week old load would still ignite. They have never failed to shoot with the 209 shotshell primers but the notion of a misfire with an older load always seems to creep into my mind. But, I had made my mind up on the 22nd day of December to fill a tag, if the deer cooperated.
I set up a decoy about 100 yards from my blind hoping it would draw some interest from the more curious in the crowd. It was already past 5 PM and shooting light began to wane but the Leupold glass atop the rifle brightened prospects. One by one deer began filing onto the stage at the far end of the food plot. At the other end of the field, more hungry deer rushed to the turnips for evening sustenance amid the snow cover. I then moved the muzzleloader into position and began focusing on body sizes and lengths of snouts. Careful to single out a mature doe, which had tuned into the unfamiliar silhouette of my feeding decoy cutout, I waited for the doe to move from its head-on position.
The smokepole belched a cloud of temporary blindness and the field emptied in seconds. Even though I couldn’t be sure of the hit at 130 yards, the unmistakable sound of the projectile’s audible thumping downrange gave me confidence. Without delay, I headed to the scene before natural light completely vanished and found specks of blood in the snow. I noted the tracking direction of the victim and departed. That’s when I phoned my friend, Joe, keeper of his wonder dog, Cocoa, for assistance.
Cocoa began her deer fetching career last year on a New Year’s Eve doe mission that was worth repeating. Actually, we have used the services of Cocoa several times already this season with 100 percent success. In fact, I now purposely rely on Cocoa to keep her in shape and to personally witness the nose that knows.
I gathered all the field-dressing necessities and Joe jumped into the front seat and Cocoa in the pickup’s bed. She knows she’s in for some wild action with this arrangement far from her confining comforts of a small city yard in Lansing. Once on the trail, she began a furious nose-down scamper to the downed deer. In 60 seconds it was all over – well, almost. The chore of field dressing had to be suspended, while we restrained the frenzied hound from the animal she claimed for her own. She doesn’t have an off button, so we tied her to a sapling for our mutual benefit.
It’s ironic that only a few years ago I couldn’t comprehend the level of enjoyment a houndsman shared with me about treeing cougars out West. I sure get it now.
