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| Uncle Maurice raised this fawn after its mother died in a car accident. |
As a MN resident until next spring when I hope to sell the MN home and move to WI, I have to pay the $165 non-resident hunting license; that and the shells, the $75 deer processing cost and the other incidentals costs of hunting and my decreasing interest in killing animals or birds other than mice how want to co-habit for the winter, have pushed me to retire from hunting.
My two brothers still hunt, although brother Marv is more into providing a good hunting experience for his grandchildren, and brother Ev into being surrounded by comfort in his hunting experience.
Here on the NW Wisconsin Farm, we started the day at 20F, cool breeze, small flakes of snow drifting onto the mostly bare ground; a cloudy foot freezing morning to the start of deer hunting season.
Dozens of campers, SUVs, huge pickup trucks and even a few cars headed west yesterday on Evergreen Avto the 1000s of acres of public land to the west reminded me of 60 years ago when the parade was instead,
Saturday mornings, when we boys were up early to count the string of cars headed out there in the dark to find their hunting spot. Then it was a hunter dressed warmly, his old car, and a bolt action or pump deer rifle and maybe a folding wooden camp chair, We usually counted up to 300 in the almost continuous parade of lights as they crept around the narrow dirt roadway skirting Bass Lake, came across the swamp to the Tee and headed west to their hunting spot on public land. In those days, a jeep was so rare and so cold to drive as to be remarked on--those were still the days when every 4th car had one headlight out and the owner probably had to decide between the cost of a box of rifle shells and fixing the lights.
This morning a dozen or so cars went west, and as many east. Many have their hunting shack on the barrens and have been out several weekends earlier cleaning out the mice; stocking up the food, and testing the chimney and wood stove, and last night moved in having their first liquid meal. Sterling rents its land for siting hunting camps, others just pull into an old logging trail and park.
Another group parks at the horsse camp on Trade River abandoned by horses and riders for the week, at least those who don't have blaze orange colored beasts.
The deer hunter campers are small, often pickup truck versions and generally older as compared to the luxurious behemoths used by the equine folks.
In the 50s, as light came to the Farm, we listened to the rifle shots, being able to hear them about 3-5 miles away on quiet mornings. Always some single bangs and some other bang,bang,bangs right as light came enough to see to shoot. Automatics were just coming into popularity, and most hunters had their old bolt and level actions, pumps and some single shots left from an old war.
Before dawn, Dad would have the morning milking done and when I was 12 and of hunting age, we too were headed out to hunt. We had our own cow pastures, trails and stumps picked out ahead of time and tried to sneak in before sunrise too, so that if we had timed it right, our feet had frozen about when the sun came up.
In my pre-hunting days, when the cars parade on our otherwise quiet road was still exciting, we gathered again at the big road-facing picture windows, playing monopoly while watching out the window to count the return of cars -- only those with a deer draped over the hood or trunk counted. 300 cars out in the morning and 30 deer back in the evening was what we expected.
Nowadays with campers and shacks, comfortable deer stands with heat, my morning count was 15 cars out.
Deer hunting tip #1: If your shot at a deer is a long distance, and you have an automatic; always take two shots as fast as you can. That way the first bullet breaks the air barrier and friction while the second one following tightly behind gets a free ride and as it nears the deer, pushes bullet 1 out of the way and hits the deer with more wallop. It is what racing bicyclists call drafting and geese call vee-ing (although geese, like those 1950 cars send their drafting messages with honks).
