NOT EVEN A MONTH INTO IT AND IM DONE

Well, I promised Chris I would post on here and update yall on the fun venison slaying adventures that I've been partaking in. That promise made, here it is, sorry Chris I know its two weeks late.

Saturday October 22, 2005:

This season I've decided not to shoot the bow, instead the S&W twin mags will do the honors. Early morning Saturday I went out to the climber, made plenty of noise getting into the stand and settling in about 25 feet up the tree. Darkness broke and the squirrels started their wiley fun and games. Around 10:30 I decided that nothing was coming my way and that if I were to see any freezer filler that I was going to have to go find it. I decided to get on a deer trail that historically translates into the interstate of deer travel and parallel this trail about 50 yards out. After a couple of hours of hearing nothing but my own footsteps and seeing nothing but my own gut in front of me I decided that the morning hunt was a shut out. Deer 1, Woody 0

The same evening got a late start getting to the lease, signing in at the barn shortly after 17:30 and completely confident that I was not going to be able to get to the tripod that I had decided to hunt from without seeing or being seen by deer. The area that I had decided to go to was a sure bet for does and culls, and being as the rut was still a few weeks off I decided to try to bag a flathead with the pistol. The area has a small ground box for the riflers on the lease and a tripod for the bow slingers. A feeder that works only half the time in the middle of field that is approx. 75 yard diameter. The tripod is set up on the edge of this field with an excellent view of a neighboring field and several lanes that funnel deer into the feeder area. I walked from the truck the short 200 yards around the tree line to the field approaching the mouth of the field slowly and quietly, as past experience has caught me off guard and deer showing me the bouncing cotton white flag of fleeing awareness. And, as I expected there were two doe standing directly in the center of this field. I slowly knelt and laid to the ground, drawing my 44 along the way. crawling slowly at a record pace of a couple of feet per minute I closed the gap to about 50 yards between myself and the two unsuspecting does. This is the point where I decided to stay put and lay low, hoping the deer would migrate within 40 yards of death. About 5 minutes passed with little to no movement from the deer when the more mature of the two sensed me and decided that she wasn't comfortable with the present situation. She gave me the old snort warning and a foot stomp to let me know that she wasn't happy and proceeded to move off into the brush. This is where I found relief in the fact that I was positive that she hadn't actually seen me and nor could she see me now, I quickly and quietly made my way to the tripod and was sitting atop just a hair before 18:30. Sweet, sundown in 30 and end of civil twilight in 60.

I sat for about 40 minutes waiting to see something other than the two huge dillos that were severely screwing up my hearing chi. That's when I looked off into the neighboring field and spotted a large bodied deer unknown in sex, but obviously not a mature buck. And, in the time it took me to swing the binocs up and positively identify the deer as a 3 year old spike, the two doe had returned from the opposite direction. This was a small pickle to be in. Knowing that Chris would be coming into town to try and put a little venison in his otherwise venison free Amarillo freezer, I made an executive decision that if I took this cull, then that would free Chris to hunt the severely less elusive does thus bettering his chances for some go home meat. With light running away fast, I decided to keep an eye on the does and try to lure this little inferior buck into my sights. With a series of muffled bleats and a snort from the old grunt tube I gained the attention of the little buck and the does. The does acted surprised to hear a patron so close to themselves without notice, but reacted with only curiosity. The little buck decided that he wanted in on the action and started moving my direction with about 10 minutes to dark. Surprisingly having the two does turned out to be an advantage for me, after covering about 70 yards to accompany us in the field I was hunting, the little buck finally saw the two does that were with me and decided to come on in to join the party. With light slipping away fast and the spike moving in front of me at about 40 yards from my right to left, I slowly raised the barrel of my .44 mag and settled the sights in the middle of his neck about 8 inches below his head. Took my breath of death and squeezed the trigger, sending 240 grains of hornady xtp into the same spot intended and spun the buck 180 degrees in the opposite direction. The buck hit the ground and commenced to doing donuts in the field like a teenager in a mustang on a frozen parking lot. After watching this for about 30 seconds, I decided I needed to end the fun before I ran completely out of light and when the buck stopped his spinning to catch his breath I gave him a dose of whoa boy between the lookers. Needless to say this fell the field silent with only a faint ringing that Im certain only I could hear.

All in all, the genetically stunted fella went 125lbs on the hoof +/- 240 grains, and 94lbs dressed, and number one in the killing book for death dealt with the big bore magnum.

October 29, 2005, AM hunt:

I went to the hometown football game and witnessed what had to be a state record for turnovers from the two 1A teams, and witnessed an unfortunate loss for the home team. After the game I invited my brother in law (Brad) if he would like to accompany me on the next morning's hunt, to which he replied that he would.

05:30 rolled around and myself and Brad rolled out of the inlaws casa to make the 15 minute trip to the lease. We signed in at the barn and drove the short distance to the gravel pit where we would leave the truck and walk into the stand. I was toting the 300 mag and Brad was accompanied by his dads .308, and the intention of letting brad shoot a doe for his old man and family freezer, and myself just being there with the artillery if the grande showed up.

We quickly loaded down the backpack and took off to the blind. Crawling into the blind about 15 minutes to daylight, we settled in and ate our breakfasts of biscuit and egg sandwiches with the coke of our liking. Brad swiftly finished his and began to scan the morning field of 4.5 ft johnson grass. I was about half finished with my breakfast when first light had arrived, and decided to grunt a couple of times followed by a bleat. Set the grunt tube down and continued enjoying my breakfast. No more that a minute following the grunts Brad informed me that he thought he had spotted something moving through the grass and with deer characteristics. A quick scan of the field with the glasses revealed nothing, but the light conditions were still not ideal. Brad continued to see something moving through the grass at about 80 yards out over the next five minutes but could never really make visual confirmation of what it was. After seeing the object for the last time there was a time span of 8-10 minutes where nothing had been seen. Then directly to our right(west) a distinctly familiar figure appeared, the ghostly face of an early morning deer. After Brad mentioned that the deer was there to our right i got the glass up for a closer look and DAMN!!! I could only see the face of this deer and at least 14 inches of a G2 slowly scanning the field above the grass, looking for the buck that rudely grunted in his territory. After sitting quietly and positioning the 300 for the kill to be, i waited, for ten minutes this guy scanned the area looking for his competition. After determining that it was no longer present, or had moved on, the buck turned due west and began to move directly away from us. This presented the perfect opportunity to raise my rifle and prepare to get a look his body condition. Once he had moved to about 120 yds from us he reached the hay field that had been mowed to roughly six inches height and confirmed what i had hoped, an old mature trophy buck. I knew my time was limited to get this guy positioned before he was gone, so i settled the cross hairs put the grunt tube in my mouth and let out a grunt. He didnt hear it and continued away from me with no shot. Shit, i gotsta get him turned around here, so a gave it another blow with a little more umph and he turned to look at us with agressive curiosity. I quickly placed the cross and squeezed the trigger placing the 178 ballistic tip through the top of his heart and dead center in his right lung. He hit the ground hard, jumped up and ran 20 yards with a serious drag from the right shoulder, where he then rolled and layed.

Brad and I watched to see if any movement could be seen, none, he was in the bag. We climbed out of the stand and walked cautiously toward the buck never taking my eye off of him. I was hoping that it would not shrink as we drew closer, and in fact the opposite was happening. On arrival at the spot of bye-bye, i stood over what was, later to be determined, a 220 lb on the hoof, 176 lb dressed 10 point. He has a 17.25" inside spread, 6.25 basal circ., and a rough score of 135 bc. Needless to say aside from harvesting my does, Im through for the season and its not even november.

Sargent 10/28 - 10/29

I stepped out of the truck around 5:00 to a cold blast of Northeast wind. It was blowing steady at 15-20 mph. I started to think that camping might have been a mistake. I put on my boots a jacket and knit hat and waded in the cut for a good hour. I was hoping to find some cooperative flounder but no luck. I decided to warm-up in the truck and wait for my friend to arrive.

Jeff showed up with his two boys right after dark and we set up camp. After sipping some whiskey by a great fire we decided to walk along the cut and look for flounder. Before we could get our stuff together a guy came in by boat from the ICW and started working OUR bank. The bastard gigged three flounder right in front of us. We walked the bank a few more times after he left but didn’t see anything.

The next morning it was cold but the wind was settling down. I drank coffee until the sun was well over the horizon and the air started to warm. I netted some mullet and we got set up in the surf. Fishing was quite slow. We had 4 rods out and only managed two reds, 1 gafftop, and two nice sand trout. The baits went mostly untouched. I was only able to fish until 2:00 because I had to get back to Houston or Michelle would have killed me. I was already in trouble for trying to skip a party so I could hang out with Steve in College Station.

More pictures at Jeff's site:

http://homepage.mac.com/jpwalt/home/PhotoAlbum51.html

Trick or Treat, Happy Halloween Indeed!

Sunday:

I woke up early on fired up the coffee machine. Kissed my wife goodbye and headed to Normangee ahead of the sunrise.

I took the back way to IH-21 which loops past coulter airfield and as I rounded the bend I saw ahead of me with its head hanging into the road a large pig. I made a nice clean head shot with 45,00,000 grain projectile at approx. 44fps by putting the right wheel on the white line holding steady. One pig down before I could even get any coffee drank.

I cautiously braked to a stop and then went into reverse and picked up the 120lbs of meat.


I drove out to Normangee for one last victory lap before I get kicked off in lieu of deer lease hunters in November.
I went in from the North, around by the trap near the stock pond where I saw the crooked little four point buck. I then drove down to the creek where I found a sow (~100lbs) and three smaller pigs (35lbs) in the trap, that's what I call a treat. I grabbed the .22 Magnum and ended their incarceration.

Five pigs didn't seem like quite enough so I drove through the woods out back to the southern pasture where I didn't find any pigs but I saw a nice 10+ point buck and another nice buck (8 pointish) that was walking with a limp. I sure wish I could deer hunt out in Normangee!

First I Took the pigs home and showed them all how to cut leg quarters into two seperate roasts as I learned from Woody.

THen I excitedly took my camera to the computer to download the photos to show ya'll and I sadly found that there was no memory card and there were no pictures saved to the camera. A pretty nasty little halloween trick.

Miki sometimes has bed head 

yall are gonna hate me but...

The period of time between Oct 13 and Oct 22 had to be one of the single greatest 9 day periods in my life to date. Let me explain...Oct 13 I bought a Colt Officers Mod in .45ACP for $250. Friday the 14 I cut outta work an hour after I got there so as to have extra time to drink beer at the airport before goin huntin with the boys. Once in the air, I got 2 Fosters and 2 Whiskeys for free. The hunting was foggy but fun, and yall have heard of my adventure on the return, seems funny to me now. When I finally got myself driven in to Amarillo, I found that my loving wife had picked up my luggage, cooler, and guns from the airport. She had also cleaned out the cooler (with bleach), separated the meat by cut, vac sealed, and stacked all but the tenders, a ham, and the heart in the freezer. My bag was unpacked and clothes washed, cammo separate. The next few days passed uneventfully, but somewhere around wed. or thurs. I came into the possession of some guns one of our contractors was looking to sell cheap. He asked if I'd take em up to the gunshow and I agreed. I went to the gunshow with his Manlicher .308 Ruger and Glock 19 (9mm) and my TC .22-250 (turns out I'm not as much a fan of the Thompson System as I thought I might be). Long story short, I left the gunshow with a total expenditure of $0.42. That being allowed to float $0.08 on a 50cent cup of coffee. I got in free as I shoot with the cops who work the door. At the end of 2 1/2 hours, I had bartered and sold my way through some amazing obstacles. I left with $650.00 in cash, exactly enough to cover the cost of the guns I was sent there to sell, PLUS....I'm now the proud owner of three new guns in two exciting new calibers. I got a 26" heavy barreled savage 110 chambered for .25-06, a 22" Remington 700 in .308 and the thing de resistance a Remington 700 Sendero set up in .22-250 which is proving to be a real champ in the shooting department.

Central Texas Guide Service a success

Friday,
Jeff, and I met at his house in Bryan and prepared for the weekend hunting trip and checked our individual list of supplies. We looked over the list of what the other had and thought of a few omissions.
Jeff headed to Normangee and I just stopped for a second at my house on the way out of town. As I was leaving my house with all the necessities Jeff called me from Normangee. Ooops, I am that late guy again. I took a call from Wooody and Chris saying they were in Buffalo. At least I would get there about the same time as the boys from Dallas.

I made a phonecall to Chris extolling the virtues of Credence Clearwater Revival Music and shortly thereafterWoody's truck passed me just as I turned on my blinker for the Normangee property.

We did the howdies and walked about six miles back down the road to inspect a road killed pig that Jeff said he saw. It wasn't there.

We drove back to the hunting grounds and parked in the back. We walked the creek to the east edge of the property and then headed south. Chris had just spotted a big bunch of pigs and we were closing the distance when a four wheeler came putzing around the corner and shagged them off into the woods. I called the landowner to see if it was him that was messing up our hunting
he said it wasn't him but he would be on the property later.

I headed up to the camp house and my truck to speak to the rancher who never showed up while chris, woody and Jeff waited down south. As I was returning to their location I heard rustling in the woods to my right, I peeked through a tiny opening in the brush and saw two pigs who immediately dove into the woods with a grunt. I looped around the woods to the south and could hear them inside with the sun setting rapidly.
I called my friends and told them to come up the the northern woodlot with the 'X' cut through it. Just as the boys were about the show up I got a call from the rancher saying that he was at the camp house and heard some pigs squealing, I said we heard them and were currently attempting to kill them.

When the boys showed up I met them at the south west corner of the woods, set down my rifle and took up a spotlight. We followed the squealing and rustling up to the north, just to the south of a small stock pond a single pig was seen fleeing into the pasture, It was illuminated by both lights, Chris and Woody both shouldered rifles and Woody's 300 Win. Mag brought the bacon to the ground immediately.

We continued to look for the rest of the pigs but they apparently melted into the woods. We packed up and headed to Gause sometime in the middle of the night so we could hunt Gause in the morning.

Saturday,
Woody and I wasted our time walking around the north ranch while Chris and Jeff went to the main ranch and middle ranch and had some sort of close encounter with a pig.

Saturday during the day we got the smoker going and smoked pork loins, venison tenderloins, italian sausages, a ham I had brined and some fillets of spanish mackeral. Saturday night Chris Woody and I headed back to Normangee. We hunted the dusk in the southern pasture, saw a nice buck and tons of other deer, we were returning to the truck parked at the edge of the southern woodlot when a bunch of pigs crashed into the forest. We hunted long into the early morning, we heard them squealing in the woods but could not get them to leave the forest or sneak through the forest. We drove around and put the spotlight on about a hundred deer.
Sunday morning Chris arrowed a deer just about like I did a few days ago. We cleaned it up and put Chris and Woody on the road with plenty of time to get the pig and deer meat to the airport early (I thought.

Postcard fron the Edge

Well, well, well…I’m back in Amarillo. But let me tell yall about how I got here. Me & Wood left Gause with no problem…relatively sober. All went well, we stopped by his house so I could take a look at the new tot as well as the new house/gun room. Meat got boned on the hood of ole yeller (the jeep) and packed in the airplane recommended method. Off we go to the port. Well, we get there with about 20 min till blastoff time, I’m nervous. Already figuring that I stand about a wax dolphins chance in hell of making this flight. Checking the bags…IDIOTS…two fat chicks standing on the scale arguing about who shouldn’t have been dipping their bacon in butter this morning and whose boobs are bigger…of course they are big, everything about these horses was big …freekin huge. I refrained from mentioning that a troop of boy scouts could use their underpants as a tent, tapped my foot and waited patiently...sorta. Bag…no problem, just tuck the straps in. Now the cooler…
Blob: ”Ooooo you hasta to go getyosef some betta luggage!” (these people are always loud)
Me: “It’s a cooler, I have better luggage, but felt this would serve my purpose better.”
Blob: “Whatchew got up in tha?!”
Me: “meat”
Blob: “Oooo they aint gon letchew brin dat on no aahpane” (yes aahpane)
Me: “It is packed to the specifications listed on your web site regarding transporting game”
Blob: “Whachew mean game?!”
Me: “A species of animal whose harvest is regulated by Federal, State, or Local government entity.”…I thought…decided against it, didn’t want to “splain” to her what “all dem words means”. So I said, “Its animals I killed.”
Blob: “Why you wanna take dat wicchew”
Me: “Is there someone else I could talk to?”
Blob: “So it gon be like dat den.” (somewhat quieter now)
Blob II: “Sup”
Me: “Crap does anyone speak English around here?”…(in my head…I think)…”Freekin monkey with down syndrome could do a better job”…(again in my head…I think)… ”Uuuh I need to check my luggage.”
Blob II: “Wachew gots in there?!” gesturing to the cooler
Me: “Animals I killed, pulled the guts out of and cut their meat loose from the bone that held them together…GAME”
Blob II: “ Oh hang on, Imma go get dat man who know bout dat”
Me: “Iiiite den”…(Literal translation, “alright then, I’ll stand here patiently”)…funny thing about airport folk, they wont speak your language but seem to get upset when you try to speak theirs.
Man: “Whachew gots in they?”
Me: (under my breath) “Crap…” (audible) “I have meat that has been bagged, I have sealed bags of ice, all of which has been put in bags, then those bags were put in bags, then those bags of bags were put in this cooler and brought here so the four of us could talk about them”
Man: “They gonna leak”
Blob: “Uuuummmhu”
Blob II “Yea they ganna spill in the aahplane”
Me: “Hence the bags, it’s all in your rule book”
Man: “It in the book?”
Me: “YES”
Man: “Ite den, What in disun?” Gesturing to gun case.
Me: “Guns”
Man: “You canit bring no guns on the aahplane”
Me: “I’m checking them in, They flew with this airline two days ago, notice the TSA tape still on the case?”
Man: “They gon hafta spect dem”
Me: “Fine, I understand, where do they ‘spect dem’?”

Now “Man” picks up the gun case, tosses it (yes, literally tosses) on a conveyor belt and points to a booth 20ft behind me. So I go over there and wait. The box of guns comes out 5 mins later.

Female Inspector: “Washchew gots in here?”
Me: “Guns”
Female Inspector: “Oooo theys heaby, Jamal, jews gonna gotsta gets dis”
Jamal: “Daaang datsa heaby mofo, washchew gots in they?”
Me: “Guns”
Jamal: upon opening…”Daaaaaaaaaaaaaang, Turcel, Festiva, Civic Hatchback, yall come see dis”
Turcel: “Dats like one dem muthafukas in da movies”
Festiva: “Sheeeeeeeeeeet dems sum gats”
Civic Hatchback: “yea yea yea, is you a hitmane?”
Me: “No, could you please just check this so I can get on the plane.”
Jamal: “Iiiiite den”
Female Inspector: upon picking up a piece of brass “Ooooo jew caint take dis on no aahplane, dis listed”
Me: “I’m afraid I don’t understand”
Female Inspector: “Dis trash, it aint no good nohow”
Me: “It is good to me, I reload them”
Female Inspector: “Whachew means,…reload”
Me: “Its like recycling”
Female Inspector: “How muchchew gets fo dems?”
Me: “Its complicated”
Female Inspector: “Jew caint take dem on no planes”
Me: “So you are telling me that the ones with the primer, gun powder, and the little pointy part sticking out of the top of them are ok bet the ones that pose no threat are dangerous?”
Female Inspector: “Well Iz gon lejew do it dis time, but nestime go on an cycle dem fo jew gets to da plane.”
Me: “Uuuuuh, OK” I figure this must be how people get misc contraband in the air, just have the security tell “them they can do it just this once”.

Now for the mad sprint…awww crap still gotta take the boots off and strip the belt/ pockets. No “random” search, no “random” search, no “random” search….PLEASE… no “random” search. Made it, all I have to do is get dressed and RUN LIKE HELL

Sprinting full bore through the airport, I think to my self, “Self, I cant remember the last time I ran so fast, I’m not getting winded, I have to be running at about 18-20 mph, how far is gate 11, oh chit there it is at the end…way down there, better kick it up a notch. Glad I checked all my stuff, I’m making great time…its 3:09, plane doesn’t leave for another minute. I get to the gate, no line…crap, look to the counter, there is a lady standing there, I come to a stop right behind her.

Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “Jerrell, quit hittin yo sista”
Me: “Has the plane left yet?”
Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “Naw”
Me: “Good, here is my ticket”
Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “They aint no room lef, I gived yo seat tu dat lady”
Me: “Crap”
Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “Jew can get on stanby”
Me: “Sign me up when is the next flight?”
Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “sisfody”
Me: “Alright thank you, Is there any thing else I need to do?”
Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “Naw, jes come down an get on da plane befo sisfody, prolly bout sisfitteen be gud”
Me: “Thank you”

Airport bar, airport bar, airport bar…where is the nearest airport bar….Oh magazines…hunting magazines…. airport bar, airport bar, airport bar…where is the nearest airport bar….$42.00 later, I never tip at the airport bar, $6 for a beer is tip included in my book. Back to the counter…


Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “Jerrell, quit hittin yo sista”
Me: “Is it too early to check in?”
Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “Early? Baby jews late, dis plane dun leff bout free hours ago.”
Me: “Yes, you put me on the list for standby”
Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “Me, naaw, dat nes planes awl filled up, they aint nomo room.”
Me: “And the one after that?”
Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “Das filled up too, jew wanna get on da list?”
Me: “Not particularly, what about the one after that? Is there any way I can get a seat on a plane and have that seat with absolutely no chance that I will not have that seat?”
Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “Whachew mean?”
Me: “I want to fly away from this wretched place and not have to remain here one moment longer than absolutely necessary. When is that time?”
Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “Honey dis planes all fulled up”
Me: “Yes, I understand that I thought I had a seat for this flight, that I was flying standby”
Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “Who toljew dat?”
Me: “You did.”
Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “Naw it wuddent me.”
Me: “Look, when is the next flight WITH A VACANT SEAT going fron here to Amarillo?”
Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “Tommowwa bout ninefityfibe.”
Me: “Crap”
Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “Oooh I gottsa get outta des shoes, theys killin my bunions.”
Me: “More than I wanted to know”
Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “I werent talking to witchew”
Me: “My luggage, where would it be?”
Blob behind Counter with 3 kids yelling and throwing crap: “It done flewed off”
Me: “Crap”

Ok now time to take control of the situation…I just gotta go buy some gum to cover the booze on my breath and rent a car…Dallas is a Bitch.

That picture looks familiar, with a bit of luck, there may be a group hogs head photo in the near future. I'm putting the finishing touches on my secret ammo batch, adding a bit of Tonys inside the hollow point to season and tenderize all in one swift step.

Normangee Update

Last time out I dropped off two traps and sprinkled some corn around, I went back to check in with them yesterday.

Sometime since the rain on Monday the pigs have gone completely berserk in the area around the trap near the creek. They rooted up inside the trap and about an acre of the forest around it. I cannot recall any time I have seen such intense pig activity.

The ranch owners trap did not have any action in it's current location.

Saw 15 doe deer, some of them were very un-concerned about my presence. The would hop off about 20 yards and stop and stare at me. It must be great to be a doe in a buck only county.

Gause is just full o' critters

Saturday:
First thingin the morning Jeff, Santos and I headed up to the main ranch to shoot some pigs out of Dr. Hann's front yard. We pulled up to the cattle guard which serves as the main gate as I spotted a pig running into the brush from where he had been rooting through a spot that until recently had held a grain feeder.

Having been busted we snuck up to the spot and looked for the now missing pig. We Then packed up and headed to the back entrance, we were walking to just about the spot where we typically see pigs along the fence when we heard a shot ring out from the area of the house and soon after a second. Walking up to the house Tyson said that we could have the pig. I walked up to it, still flopping and squealling I gave it a .44 caliber dose of settle down. This black pig with red hairs had a gruesome exit wound from Tyson's rifle (.270?) in the neck, just above the spine and another hole through the the intestines.

I demostrated for Santos how to skin a pig, he twisted the head off and posed for the picture below.



Tuesday:

Nobody wanted to play with me so I flew solo on this one.

I headed to the main ranch arriving a few minutes before seven. I parked in the pasture outside the cattle guard and walked in. I went around the corner to the right and saw a solitary black pig slipping between the white cows and calves. I laid prone, and waited for a shot with a clear background. I felt an intense burning on my left elbow which I had put down into a nest of fire ants. I brushed thme off as quietly as I could, gritted my teeth and moved over about 8 inches, waited for the pig to pass behind one more cow, settled the rifle, pulled the trigger and watched as a Sierra 90 grain Jacketed hollow point smacked into the exact point of aim.

The pig ran about 20 yards in a large circle to the left and just as I was about to fire again it flopped on the ground. Later forensic examination would reveal a small hole in the near lung and no sign of a heart anywhere. Exit wound was about 2X bullet diameter.

I drove to the north ranch, went through the same gate that gave me a large pig last time and was I was passing the pond I noticed five does walking along the fence line. I dove into the backseat and grabbed an arrow and the bow, I got out of the truck and hid in the dried out stock pond. I collected myself moved the edge, stuck my head up and waited for them to move direclty across from me. I rose, drew and shot. The arrow quickly coved the 20-25 yard distance and surprisingly the deer dropped instantly. I went to the truck, and drove over, When I got closer I saw the deer had been spined (admittedly I was shooting for the heart but Oh well). At this time two of the other deer in the group came back to see what was up with their partner, I clapped and waved them away since i was already going to have a busy morning. From the sholders up the arrowed deer was alive so I gave her a .44 caliber dose of settle down just like Saturday's pig. I later had some apprehension about having in my possesion a deer with a bullet wound during bow season so I tried to quickly get it cleaned and put away.

Saturday we shagged this pig into the waiting scope of Tyson Hann,  

Two former residents of Gause, each posing with the implement of it's demise. 

Sunday night - Sargent

I went to the cut on Sunday afternoon. It looks pretty different after the storm. There is exposed clay everywhere and there are some new channels around the cut. The wind was blowing hard out of the east and then changed to the southeast as soon as I started fishing. I really wanted to catch some trout/reds/flounder so I left the surf rods in the truck and threw plastics and finger mullet in the cut. I didn’t get a bite until 30 minutes before dark and then I nailed 3 keeper reds on Carolina-rigged finger mullet. The tide had really started coming in and I suspect that the whole cut may have been full of reds but I quit fishing since I had caught my meager 3-fish limit.

After building a fire and cooking dinner I grabbed my lantern and gig and headed back across the cut. The water on the far side was a lot clearer. Despite the windy conditions visibility was good and I covered a lot of the bank. I gigged two nice ones in the first hour but that was it. Because of the very high tides I decided to move my truck closer to the beach but the tide had come in so much that I was surrounded by water. I found a high spot and tried to enjoy my private little island but it was freaking me out.

I was going to hit the surf on Monday but as soon as I finished my coffee the rain started and it didn’t look like it was going to stop.

Anybody up for one more coastal trip?

This cold front has me thinking that we only have about 1 more month of fishing. I know you guys are well into hunting season but if you want to plan one more beach trip for 2005 then we should do it before the 2nd week of november.

I am going to try to fish every weekend until it gets too cold. For the last two years I have done pretty well during october and the first week of November.