Hunter: Ron Richards
Season: Spring Shotgun
Method: Calling to decoys
License Requirements: Resident: Turkey Stamp $28.00, Habitat Stamp $13.00
Weaponry/Gear: Shotgun (10ga.), Full camo clothing, 2 hen decoys
Guide: None used.
Agency Contact: Nebraska Game & Parks Department
2200 N. 33rd Street
Lincoln, NE 68503
(402) 471-0641
http://www.ngpc.state.ne.us/
The Tale:
Spring Turkey Season – Capitalized! This is becoming my favorite hunting season as it encompasses calling, decoying, and getting very close to your game.
This year in Nebraska had been tough. Very tough! The birds busted up into small groups in a warm March so the archery hunters were having a great year but just before shotgun season opened a cold front rolled in.
Maybe “rolled in” doesn’t cover it… “trampled in” would be closer. The temperature dropped to 10 degrees! No lilacs, no spring flowers, no fruit blossoms and the darned ol’ turkeys all bunched back up.
Mother Nature at her worst.
Then my work took a turn for the better and I wasn’t able to go to Turkey Camp with our group of guys who gather every year. Our camp is located in what is normally a slam dunk location so what happened there pretty much painted how poor the season had been – four of them killed two turkeys.
Then it rained for four days. It was needed but…
I had planned on hunting this particular weekend and then work reared its head, again, and I didn’t get home until late Friday night. I never set an alarm; don’t need to. Uh-huh. Guess I was tired because the robins’ singing woke me up – too late for a roost hunt.
I decided to get some things caught up around the house and try an afternoon hunt.
At 2:00pm I was setting my decoys in the blazing sun with a temperature approaching 80 degrees. So much for the cool spring rains!
I got set up on a log in the shade, pulled on my head net and gloves and made my first call. Fifteen minutes later I made my second call. Nothing.
I was about half asleep and nodding and happened to look down between my feet. Oh Dear Lord!!!
Directly between my feet, within striking distance, within picking distance was a three inch morel mushroom. A Shroom!!!
I reached down and plucked it from the boggy bottom. I caressed it. I smelled it. I placed it carefully in my extra head net.
Then I made another call.
Why? Beats me.
I already knew what I was going to do next. Darned ol’ turkeys weren’t answering the call anyway. It’s 80 degrees and I was now on a mission!
You have to understand that out here in western Nebraska we don’t get that many morels. It is rare. I have hunted this particular section of the Platte River for spring turkeys (and morels) for three years and this was the first time I’d found a morel!
So… I pulled off the gloves and started “hunting”. My efforts were rewarded with a pair of small ones. Then another decent one. And then with what my buddy Ray called a “Hickory Chicken”; what had to be the biggest morel I have ever found.
Two more positive notes; cleaning was a lot easier than a turkey would have been and supper was absolutely incredible! Steak is cheaper than wild turkey anyway!!
Hunter: Shayne Calzavara
Season: Regular Firearm
Method: Tree Stand
License Requirements: Resident—Either-Sex Firearm Deer Permit $15.00, Habitat Stamp $5.50 Non-Resident—Either-Sex Firearm Deer Permit $250.00, 5-Day Hunting License $28.75 OR Annual Hunting License $50.75 AND Habitat Stamp $5.50
Weaponry/Gear: Mossberg Model 500 12gauge using Winchester Super X slugs
Guide: None used.
Agency Contact:
Illinois Department of Natural Resources
One Natural Resources Way
Springfield, Illinois 62702-1271
(217) 782-6302
http://dnr.state.il.us/
The Tale
I would have to say that hunting is my new favorite sport. Everything about it intrigues me. I absolutely love spending time outdoors and experiencing the beauty of nature.
Recently I had an unforgettable experience hunting whitetail deer.
This past November was the first of the firearm deer seasons in the State of Illinois. Ever since last April, when I applied for my tags, I had been anxiously awaiting my first whitetail hunt. I had taken great preparation for this weekend, including purchasing hundreds of dollars worth of new camouflage from Cabela’s.
My Uncle Dan was the first person to “show me the ropes” of hunting and help me to really experience the outdoors for the first time. Prior to the first day of open season, Dan and I practiced shooting his Mossberg shotgun at the local gun club.
Even though this gun was fitted with a duck-hunting barrel, it was all we had for shotguns. I cycled through about 45 Winchester Super X slugs, getting some idea on this gun’s placement.
Upon returning to his cabin, my Uncle and I washed all our hunting fatigues in scentless soap and went to sleep. We knew that 4:30am would come a lot sooner than expected.
Early the next morning, we dressed in our camouflage, loaded our weapons, and headed for the tree stand. Before we were even in the stand, my uncle spotted a midsize doe exiting from some thick brush along a fenceline. This deer was cautiously looking behind her as she crept out of the cover.
I tried calming myself down and readied myself for a hundred-plus yard shot. Almost instantly, a large buck crept out behind the first doe.
My first shot struck the buck above the right leg, shattering the shoulder. The deer was already too far away to try another shot so we watched it limp over to some brush along a small creek.
After getting permission from the landowner, my uncle and I tracked the blood trail to the edge of a cornfield. We decided that Dan would circumnavigate the field as I pushed the deer out towards him.
I slowly crept along the edge of the corn, almost walking directly on top of the wounded buck. He jumped up as I put another slug into his side. Still moving, the deer walked slowly out of the corn only to meet the finishing slug from my uncle’s shotgun.
I could hardly contain my excitement while Dan taught me how to field dress my deer. After a mini photo shoot with my first whitetail trophy, we got it checked in at the Ogle County check station. It weighed-in at an incredible 225 pounds after being field dressed and had 9 antler points. He was a true monster buck!
I never would have expected that my first whitetail hunt would be as fun and productive as it was. Being able to get outdoors and hunt such an amazing animal is one of my fondest memories.
Maybe I’ll try elk hunting in the Rockies next year!
Hunters: Ron Richards-in the beard, Larry and his grandson Luke
Deer Season: Regular Rifle
Location: Western Nebraska
Method: Stand hunting
License Requirements: Resident: $28.00, Conservation Stamp $13.00; Non-Resident: (Regular Rifle) $178.00, Conservation Stamp $13.00
Weaponry/Gear: Rifle – Marlin Model 336 30-30; Scope – Tasco 4×40; Ammo – Hornaday LeveRevolution 160 gr. (An awesome load)
Guide: None used.
Agency Contact:
Nebraska Game & Parks Department
2200 N. 33rd Street
Lincoln, Nebraska 68503
(402) 471-0641
http://www.ngpc.state.ne.us/
The Tale:
Deer Camp for our group, like many others, is a special place with special people. Two of our group have hunted deer together since the 1960’s. We’re all “shirttail cousins” and, more importantly, “brothers” when it comes to deer camp.
The Camp Elders have all seen their sons kill their first deer out of our camp and now the torch has been passed to grandsons.
We are doubly fortunate in that a relative owns the ground where we hunt and that land borders a state WMA so we have access to thousands of acres of prime whitetail and mule deer country.
We have an old mobile home in a pasture allowing the luxury of a warm bed, a place to cook and other amenities not normally associated with roughing it. As I get older, those “other amenities” have taken on even more importance.
Some really nice deer have been taken by our camp members but this isn’t a tale about big whitetails or monster mulies. It’s just a story about some nice deer being taken on a fine day in November.
By Friday afternoon before the opener everyone was in camp. My brother’s grandson discovered he would be sitting by himself this year and would be accompanied only by a new .270. He was thrilled and nervous. Who wouldn’t be?
That evening the BS session got rolling and I announced that this season I was not passing a buck to wait for The Big Boy. I’ve passed many small bucks in years past and gone home meatless but I wanted some venison this winter. My brother felt the same way.
We got around to deciding who was going to sit where and my brother’s grandson was given first choice in honor of his being the newest member of the fraternity.
We have two “gimme” locations on the property and he chose the one best suited for his rifle. “The Bluff” overlooks a nice piece of bottom ground. Every visible deer is in range out to roughly 280 yards.
The rest of us took those stands where we normally sit… except me. I had found a new spot while spring turkey hunting and decided to give it a try.
I had my popup blind in place Friday afternoon and borrowed a range finder to mark some distances. To one side was winter wheat bordering a creek. To the other was a dry creek bottom over which I could shoot and still be within range for my 30-30.
The only drawback to my new stand was its close proximity to the trailer. Only 150 yards distant, the in-and-out and back-and-forth associated with getting 8 hunters situated – by way of 3 pickup trucks – might prove too much activity on opening day.
I got settled in to my blind that morning and looked at the trail coming up from camp. Two does were staring back at me. So much for the “drawback”.
Thirty minutes after shooting light I heard a shot I thought might be big brother’s grandson. Thirty minutes later I saw big brother’s pickup on the horizon heading back towards camp. I thought, “Hmm? The grandson must have scored and he’s coming back to help him out… good deal.”
This thought was still fresh in my mind when a whitetail doe and small buck tore through the dry creek in front of me. They never missed a step as they dashed through the opening and kept going. I was just getting ready to break cover to get a different vantage point when a gorgeous 5×5 whitetail appeared behind them.
He stopped dead center in the opening!
Then he turned up the hill and stared at my blind.
I pulled up on him, squared the scope on his chest, fired—and missed. Completely missed!
The buck just stood there trying to figure out where the noise had come from while I levered in a new round. He turned broadside and, just as he started his leap to freedom, I fired and caught him high, breaking his spine and killing him almost instantly.
I sat and collected my thoughts and my gear for the task to come. As I walked down to my buck I heard my brother’s pickup pulling up to the trailer. I gave him a holler to come over and pick up my deer, it was that close.
As I was field dressing my buck, my brother related his story.
A nice 4×4 whitetail had come trotting straight at his blind right at shooting light. He watched him to 40 yards and then put a bullet right through his heart. He field dressed the buck and then came back to camp to get help dragging it out. His was the shot I had heard earlier.
We loaded my deer in his pickup and headed down to load his deer, too. As we were going across a pond dam we could see the bluff where his grandson was sitting. We saw two whitetail doe run by the boy and toward the creek. Then, BOOM, his .270 ripped off a single round and two whitetail doe came running back from the creek and right under his stand again.
We got to the top of the hill above him and saw him walking up towards the trail. We drove down to pick him up and the conversation went something like this:
“I got her!”
“Huh, you got what?”
“That doe, down by the creek.”
“Oh. You sure?”
“Well, I think so. She ran back into the brush but I’m sure I got her.”
My brother and I exchanged glances that said a lot.
As it turned out they were needless glances. The mulie doe was laying about 10 feet from the edge of the wheat field. His shot from the .270 had taken out both lungs and the heart.
Later that day we ranged the shot at 262 yards. Mighty fine shooting!
That’s my tale.
P.S. Later that day my nephew took a nice 4×4 whitetail and another member of our camp shot a true wallhanger – a 7×6 whitetail with a nice drop tine.
Maybe his story will show up here next…
Hunter: Daniel D. Lamoreux
Black Bear – Northwest Wyoming – Spring Season
Method: Spot & Stalk;
License Requirements:
Resident: Bear Tag (over the counter) $37.00, Conservation Stamp $10.50; Non-Resident: Bear Tag (over the counter) $301.00,
Conservation Stamp $10.50;
Weaponry/Gear: Rifle ‚Äì Ruger M77 .270; Scope ‚Äì Tasco 4×40; Ammo ‚Äì Remington Express 150gr CORE-LOKT Sft Pt
Guide: None used. A guide is required for non-residents hunting in designated Wilderness Areas.
Agency Contact:
Wyoming Game & Fish Department
5400 Bishop Boulevard
Cheyenne, Wyoming 82006
http://gf.state.wy.us/
The Tale:
My favorite bear hunting area had been open, according to Game & Fish, since May 1st but the U.S. Forest Service had the road closed into that area since the previous fall when it snowed shut for the season. The distance between the locked gate and where I normally park to hunt this particular area is about 12 miles. Needless to say, this spot isn’t open for hunting to me until the guardians of our forests decide the public can access public land.
They finally unlocked the gate Sunday afternoon, the 21st of May, so I immediately made plans to hunt there as soon as I could schedule it. Shortly after sunrise on Saturday, the 27th, I was putting on my pack and preparing for a long day afield. This was my third spring season in this spot and I knew it well but, having been locked out since the previous fall, I had no clue what kind of activity I might find.
The day was overcast and the temperature was about 40 degrees with intermittent light rain. It was a nice break from the ‘heat wave’ we had been experiencing the last week or so when temps were in the 70s. A cold front was moving into the area and the forecast was for snow that evening. My expectations were high. Changes in weather like this often got the critters moving double-time and, thus far, the rule was holding fast. Mule deer, including a number of bucks in the early stages of velvet, and moose had been seen in good numbers already and I was just getting started.
I started climbing to a small plateau that offered me the best view of a huge avalanche chute I’d hunted in the past. I spent some time glassing the area for movement. Bears often target avalanche chutes and high-elevation meadows in early spring as they search for winterkill, rodents and freshly greening vegetation to fatten up after their winter fast.
I didn’t see any bear on the move and decided to head into the trees bordering the chute. There is a slope located here that is fully covered in pine that the bears have used in years past as a transitional highway between the avalanche chute and a primary creek.
During the previous year’s spring hunt a partner and I got close enough to a bear in this same area to smell it – though we never saw it in the thick timber. I figured to check the usual game trails and see if there was any sign of activity.
Just as I worked my way across a small opening at the base of the slope I detected movement to my right. At a distance of about 55 yards from me, and about 35 yards above me on the slope, the black bear stepped into an open slot between two big rocks and some heavy brush. It was standing on one of the trails I had intended to check.
The bear stepped fully into the small opening and stopped dead in his tracks. I was standing smack dab in the middle of a clearing of my own and the bear looked directly at me!
No time to think… I recognized he wasn’t a baby booboo… raised the .270, positioned the crosshairs and pulled the trigger.
The rifle bucked and I lost the sight picture for that single instant at ignition. On recovery, I chambered another round and watched the bear dive into the brush in the direction he was originally headed.
He was gone – just like that.
The shot felt really good but I couldn’t replay the picture in my mind. I just wasn’t positive that it hit the mark. No sound came from the timber and no movement could be detected. I knew that I needed to give the bullet time to do its thing.
I dropped my pack and grabbed a canteen from within to wet my dry throat as I watched the surrounding area for any potential countering move by my quarry. Fifteen minutes later I decided to follow-up on the shot.
I circled to the right so that I could go up the same game trail the bear was using, hoping for the best visibility under the circumstances. I slowly made my way up to the point where the bear had been standing when I fired. There was no blood, no hair, no sign of any kind that a bear had been there and certainly no indication that he’d been hit. The thick-hided buggers!
The brush was thick in that immediate area so I decided to back off about 15 yards and circle above that spot in an attempt to get a better vantage point. I certainly didn’t want to walk into any potential ambush.
Circling above, I looked down and noticed a dark patch of hair. Moving around further I discovered the bear lying against a tree. The approach was slow and deliberate… and my bear was dead as a post!
He had traveled no more than 30 yards when he piled up.
Once I was certain the bear was dead, I took a break to let my blood pressure and heart rate settle down and then I started in to the work – and four hours later I had a really nice bear coat tucked neatly into the truck!
What a rush!