By Glen Wunderlich
Charter Member Professional Outdoor Media Association (POMA)
The first week of firearms deer season is well under way and the never-ending preparation has been supplanted by the deadline: opening day. My longtime hunting partner and friend, Joe Reynolds, couldn’t be with me on this day we’ve focused on for the entire year because of some physical issues, so I’d go it alone for now.
A small 7×8-foot hunting shack we’ve dubbed “The Housetrailer”, built atop a tandem-axle trailer, would be my home for the anticipated excitement. In recent past the tiny building has been more of a get-away to relax and to watch nature close-up. Situated on a ridge overlooking a swamp to the east and my neighbor’s clover field to the west, I hiked the half mile in the early morning darkness and settled in with my Thermos full of coffee and a full dose of optimism.
If it sounds comfortable, it is; in fact, it has been purposely outfitted so that, when hunting, a person could hunt the entire day without leaving. With a northeast wind, my focus would be into the wind toward the treacherous swamp’s edge. The swivel chair allowed me to check the field, as well.
From Heaven came a deer hunter’s greatest advantage: the season’s first snowfall. As the white stuff blanketed the ground, my neighbor sent me a text asking if I saw the buck in the field. I hadn’t but soon spotted the long-tined 8-point buck at a distance of 263 yards. No doubt, it was a good buck but one I had seen on trailcam photos and had decided to let to grow, if I came across it afield. It was beyond my range limitations anyway, so I disregarded it and concentrated on the swamp side of the Housetrailer.
A bit later, looking toward the field, I was startled by two quickly approaching does heading directly toward me at a scant 40 yards. Hot on their tails was that buck I had ignored previously. If action like that doesn’t test the capability of one’s heart, nothing will. I remained vigilant for another look at the buck but it vanished like smoke in the wind.
A group of 4 antlerless deer began to head down a nearby trail, when I noticed a trailing adult doe come to a halt at 50 yards. It certainly couldn’t detect my scent, because it was upwind; however, I was mistaken. The seasoned animal had picked up the scent from my rubber-bottomed boots along the path I walked to the shack hours before. It finally joined the remainder of the group but did so in alert mode. I made a mental note to use cover scent on my boots next time.
I had a few more whitetail encounters before the day was finished but none as enlightening as one provided by a rather chunky fox squirrel. As mentioned, the Housetrailer has been used as more of a daytime respite from the daily grind of politics, inflation and other woes of the world. For well over a year, I have fed the wild birds at the site and seemed to have found a durable galvanized metal feeder to stand abuse.
When I found it on the ground, I realized that some animal was out-foxing me and I set out to stymie its penchant for bird seed. I had assumed it was jumping from a picnic table onto the feeder, so the table was moved.
The feeder was hung from a small branch of an oak tree with a drop-down wire of some three feet. I figured that no squirrel would climb onto the precarious branch, let alone find a way to the feeder below tethered to the wire. Wrong! Before my eyes, a huge fox squirrel climbed the tree then onto the small branch with the feeder’s support wire between the squirrel and a nourishing meal. The fat rodent then slid head-first down the wire like some circus performer directly onto and into the feeder, where it got breakfast.
That $20 deer-license was worth the price of admission to one of life’s greatest shows, and this was only the first day!
