Posts Tagged ‘deer hunting’
Week Before
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‘Twas the weekend before deer hunting opener, and all through our valley
Neighboring hunters were sighting rifles, firing sequences of annoying volleys
With a snap and a caar-ACK!, the serenity kept being interrupted
Our precious peace and quiet, over and over was corrupted
For some reason, this year the gunshots appear to unsettle Asher more than we’ve seen in the past. The horses always get a little jumpy about the discharge of firearms. The annoying repetition of startling rifle reports is a fact of life around here this time of year, but this weekend was particularly bothersome. From the sound of it, the neighbors who hunt must have spent a chunk of money on ammunition this weekend.
I assume the reason the shooting was so noticeable is that they were doing the sight aligning in closer proximity to their residences and not off in the woods in their deer stands. The week before the deer opener is probably more unsettling than the two weeks of the actual hunting season.
We don’t have a heavy influx of gun-toting hunters flooding our area, so the numbers are limited, and the sounds of shots being fired tend to be restricted to the hours around dusk and dawn. Plus, they are only shooting when they see a deer, unlike what we experienced over the weekend.
You’d think all this shooting would chase away the deer to far safer places to hide.
I’m guessing it’s a buck who has been rubbing the bark off the young poplar trees in the north loop field, but I haven’t spotted him yet. In six days, the Wisconsin deer herds will begin having their numbers reduced. I wonder if someone will get him. It’s an annual event that has never been a part of my life. Since living here, it’s become a minor nuisance we observe for two weeks in November just beyond our borders.
The weekend before hunting season serves as a warning to our nerves and a reminder that it’s time to pull out the blaze orange outerwear.
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Deer Season
It is quiet this morning, meaning, there have been few gunshots echoing around us. Yesterday was the opening day of the deer hunting season and shots were heard with regularity.
Even though the majority of land around us is cultivated for crops, there remain a fair amount of forested lanes and steep slopes where deer herds tend to travel. The farming neighbors who surround us on every side all don the blaze orange head-to-toe uniform and ply the hunt.
It’s a bit nerve-wracking.
I don’t mind them thinning the herds. The other main predator of deer seems to be cars and trucks, as the sight of dead deer by the side of the road is a daily spectacle. I recall that there was one in the road ditch of this property years ago when we came to visit in the weeks after our purchase offer was accepted.
The previous owners told us that one doe came up to the house and gave birth to her fawns in the nook by the front door. We did see a pair of deer in our yard frequently that first year after we moved in. Not so much anymore.
I figure it is a combination of our getting Delilah and the horses. We did add a trail through our woods, which actually opened up a new path for deer, but we subsequently began using it regularly for walking the perimeter with Delilah. The deer traffic became less conspicuous.
I’m sure they are still passing through. We just don’t see them as often.
The neighbors must still see them. They found a lot of reasons to shoot yesterday. Across the road from us, as I was returning up our driveway from the mailbox with Delilah, the neighbor-hunter group shouted a greeting, waved, and showed me they were successful on opening day.
For us, it means the horses are edgy, the dog is on high alert, and the nearby woods are alive with scanning eyes and booming firesticks, sunup to sundown. It is a brief anomaly in the sedate ambiance that usually prevails.
It is deer hunting season, and the hunt is on.
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Time Again
As predicted, this morning was warm enough that snow was sticky and melting. There was plenty of moisture in the air, but it wasn’t exactly foggy. There was something of a spooky feel to the ambiance of the ranch.
Delilah didn’t seem to care, as she pulled hard against her leash in a rush to get to the next scent that was always just beyond the one she just checked. The horses were out of the paddock, milling along the fence between the hay-field and the back pasture. They weren’t on the same side of the fence, which is nothing new.
Last night, Legacy was in the pasture and the other three were in the hay-field. This morning, Dezirea was alone in the hay-field.
Suddenly, a loud crack from a rifle echoed between the hills and the horses nervously adjusted their positions in response. I discovered that the pans of feed that I had set out last night were left untouched under the barn overhang.
A couple of the chestnuts had obviously been through the paddock to change their location, but apparently they didn’t bother to come up to the barn. It’s that time again. Deer hunting season started this morning at sunrise. Gun shots started last night. I guess they were making sure their guns worked.
More shots rang out. I’m not sure how far the sound carries, but it gives me the impression there are a lot of hunters in action in a relatively small area around us. How do they keep from shooting at each other, I wonder. And, are there really that many deer out and about right now?
If our horses are on alert, I expect the deer are just as keen to notice the sounds and would be inclined to make themselves even more scarce than usual.
I walked Delilah through the paddock toward the horses in the pasture by the round pen. Legacy responded to our presence and approached the closed gate between us. To accommodate their skittishness, I opened that gate to save them walking around to the one that we leave open. I guided them toward the hay feeder and then walked around to do the same for Dezirea from the hay-field.
More gun shots. The horses let the lure of the hay override their urge to flee. I wandered up to the barn and shook the feed pan, which initially startled their panic response, but then drew them up to eat, albeit in hurried fits of anxiety.
Delilah took full advantage of the all-she-could-eat-buffet of manure droppings that were reappearing within the melting snow, as I just stood calmly to assure the horses that they were safe. At the edge of the pine forest across the road from us, a lone figure in blaze orange appeared to be standing sentinel. His jacket must have been old and dirty, because when two figures appeared across the snowy field from him, their outfits outshone his to the point of looking electrically illuminated.
No sign of any hunting success. From the sound of all the shots being fired, it wasn’t for lack of trying.
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Disappearing Days
Can days actually disappear? Vanish without a trace? Somehow or other we have arrived at Monday, November 25th. Where was I when time flew by?
Efforts are under way to prepare our home to host guests for multiple gatherings over the coming Thanksgiving weekend. You know those things that lie around unnecessarily for months, that suddenly become noticeable as being out of place when preparing for special events? Suddenly, piles of stuff are beginning to form at the top of the stairs, waiting to be carried away and stashed in some less conspicuous location.
I don’t understand where it all came from, how it all accumulates, or where we have space to store it in the future.
Maybe those days don’t actually vanish without a trace, and this stuff is what gets left behind by the disappearing days.
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The local deer population has been reduced by a few already. Yesterday morning, we were surprised by a knock on the door, and our neighbor stepped in to describe the scene that had just transpired with his grandson down by the pond on their property. He was confirming we were okay with them tracking a deer they had shot, which then turned and ran into our woods.
In reality, it crossed our property entirely and made it into the neighbor’s woods on the other side of us. The guys dragged it down the trails to the edge of our woods where they could drive up with a trailer to haul it away to be registered with the DNR. I had Delilah out for a walk when they showed up in their truck and of course, she took great interest in this, and thus was a challenge to hold as we visited with the hunters for a moment before they drove away.
I think she is frustrated with the extended time indoors and on the leash this weekend. I spoiled her with a lot of time running loose last week.
Now that I think of it, last night, when our CSA farm neighbor stopped by with this month’s delivery, which included a fresh turkey, Delilah had that same look in her eyes as she put her paws on the counter to sniff the bird as she did with the deer in the trailer. She is a carnivore, there is no doubt about that.
One night I decided to treat her to some left over chicken chow mien on top of her usual food. She eats everything she finds on the ground, from sticks to antlers, mummified carcasses, and even manure, but when I checked her bowl after the chow mien, I found she had deftly set aside a piece of celery and a mushroom that didn’t interest her.
She certainly knows what she doesn’t like.
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Found It!
Cyndie found the mouse that the cats killed. They put it in the toilet. We are very impressed that they knew the mouse was something that needed to be disposed of.
Meanwhile, the horses have proved me wrong. I believe that I wrote about how often I find them lying down to rest in the afternoons, and that one of them always remains standing to keep watch. Yesterday, I looked up from my task to find that all four of them were on the ground at the same time. I guess they feel safe here. As I watched them, I noticed there was no traffic on our road and no activity underway in any of the fields or at the neighboring farms. It was wonderfully calm and quiet, even with the wind kicking up some fairly robust gusts every so often. I think their behavior is a reflection of the environment where they now find themselves living.
We are pretty happy with the place, too.
Now, the serenity is not without interruption. This time of year, there are an awful lot of gunshots spoiling the natural sound scape. Hunting seasons for a variety of animals start in September and run into December. The biggest hunt around here is definitely the deer season. It opens this coming weekend, so right now many hunters are preparing their guns, test-firing them and calibrating the sights.
We saw the horses startle at the sound of some of the closer shots later in the day yesterday. I’m hoping that the presence of our horses and Delilah will have rerouted the deer traffic away from our land, so the hunters will have no incentive to post themselves close by. I certainly haven’t seen as many deer around here this year as there were last year during the same time period.
I’ve posted images here on the blog of Delilah with her blaze-orange vest on, I wonder if we should get the horses some blaze-orange blankets. We definitely don’t want to have them wear antler hats for the next two weeks. I’ve heard stories that cause me to be uneasy during deer hunting season. Luckily, there are no strangers hunting in our vicinity. It is all private property, and the hunting is done by family groups that are familiar with the area.
I’m just happy our cats have finally decided to participate in some hunting this year. It’s the season!
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Relative Something 