One of the first things a shed hunter realizes about this growing sport is you’re charged with covering an infinite amount of space with a finite amount of free time. Because no one has time to look by every tree or walk down every corn row, the trick becomes maximizing the time you have by eliminating unproductive ground and focusing on the best spots.
When most hunters think of whitetails, the first season that comes to mind, of course is fall. The great thing about deer management is that the least amount of work is required in the fall. That is if you've made good use of your free time the rest of the year.
Dang trapping is fun! Because I was trapping for fur and enjoying an incredible “NON” winter this past winter at my camp, I was feeling like a kid again.
There's nothing fun about bowhunting in the waning days of archery season. After weeks of pressure from gun hunters and muzzleloader hunters, there are a lot fewer deer around than at the beginning of the season. And by Christmas, temperatures can be brutal. Throw in a stiff northwest wind and you might start to wonder if you belong in an asylum, rather than a tree stand. So why do late-season bowhunters take to the woods in less-than-ideal conditions? Because they can. When you live for deer hunting, you have to take advantage of every opportunity. Despite the brutal conditions, December can actually be a good time to tag a deer.
Mark Anderson hunts from a heated deer stand mounted on a Chevy truck bed on his property outside Sauk Centre these days. “I’ve paid my dues freezing in ladder stands,” says the 84-year-old. Like in 1982, when he shot a non-typical 18-point buck. “It weighed 190 lbs. dressed. We made a gun rack out of the hooves. Today it has my dad’s old Zulu 12-gauge shotgun hanging on it.” Moments like these, hunting with his son-in-law while his wife and daughters bake Christmas cookies back at the house, keep Anderson coming back for more.
I saw the big fella cruising on a crisp November day. He was covering ground in a great hurry grunting with every step. Then, six does and fawns came flying out of that gnarly bedding area on a knob adjacent to a fresh aspen cutover and beaver pond, not wanting anything to do with the randy fella.
I grabbed the grunt call off the hook and challenged his manhood with my own deep, guttural grunt. I’ll never forget that image when the ten-point jammed on the brakes and bellowed the loudest grunt I’ve ever heard.
460 Peterson Rd
Grand Rapids, Minnesota 55744
