Oh how the times have changed. I can remember as a young hunter how excited I was for the opening day of firearms season. Now that I’m almost exclusively an archery hunter, it’s just not the same. I still plan to go out tomorrow morning with my dad near his house since I have an antlerless tag for that management unit, and so I can be there to help him out if needed. He still has his buck tag to fill, so there is a little more at stake for him. I plan to take my in-line muzzleloader since I’ve yet to take a deer with it, but if the weather forecast holds true (rain and wind), I may have to take the rifle.

Even though opening day isn’t quite the same, I’ll still be excited to go out and take in the sounds and smells of “deer season.” I love hearing shots around the area and wondering what the story is behind them. Was it a big buck going down, or a young hunter taking his or her first deer? Did they miss and is the deer headed in my direction? You just never know. It was a little more exciting before Pennsylvania went to a combined season because you knew that someone was shooting at a buck. I would hear a shot nearby and immediately go into red alert since a buck was definitely in the area, and he may be coming right to me. Of course the more shots you hear, the better chance the buck got away and is still on his feet. I hope I hear the crack of my dad’s .308, with the result being the filling of his buck tag. Knowing him though, he’ll be just as happy taking a big old doe. He shot some good bucks over the years, and I really don’t think it matters as much to him anymore.

I’ll share one quick memory of opening day. Perhaps the one that stands out most is when I took my first buck. I remember how excited I was that morning because I was able to pick out my own spot for the first time, and I was sure it was a good one. I picked an area about 100 yards off of a brushy knob on the Kinter farm that always had a lot of good buck sign. Me, my dad, and my late uncle Jim went out the day before and prepared our spots for the next morning. I picked the biggest old oak tree I could find, cleared the leaves from beneath it, and scanned the terrain trying to imagine where the buck would come from in the morning.

It was a cold morning, but I was so excited that I barely noticed. Just as I was starting to get disappointed because I hadn’t seen a deer yet, I could hear the leaves rustling below me with the sounds of a deer coming in my direction. Before I could get nervous, a buck crested the small hill and was standing in front of me not more than 50 yards away. I pulled the trigger on my open-sights .30-.30 and the gun cracked, waking up the previously quiet hillside. To my amazement, the deer bolted to my right necessitating another round. Three shots later, my first buck was down, and I couldn’t have been more excited. I actually hit the deer three times out of four, so it certainly wasn’t the cleanest of kills!

I blew the wistle that my dad gave me the night before three times to get his attention. Shortly thereafter I saw an orange vest headed my way, which I thought was the one my dad was wearing. It turns out it was an archery hunter who shot my deer before it got to my hunting location. The shot was just beneath the backbone, and didn’t touch any of the vitals. Just as he was starting to give me a hard time, my dad arrived and quickly got updated on the circumstances. After a brief discussion, the hunter yielded the deer to me, and my first buck was in the books. It was a decent 8-pointer with about a 12-inch spread. I was so proud, and my dad and uncle Jim were very proud of me. Now that’s an opening day memory that I’ll never forget.

The fresh POSTED sign I affixed to this beautiful Civil War-aged white oak is an unfortunate symbol of a mixed bag of deer management ideals in Pennsylvania.

After about three hours of work on Thanksgiving morning and another two hours today, the entire boundary of the property has been freshly posted, making it clear to firearms hunters that they are not welcome. About every other year the posters need to be either reattached or replaced, and I estimate that there are slightly more than 100 posters around the property.

I have mixed emotions when I post the property, but I learned years ago when I became part of the Quality Deer Management program on this land that it’s a necessary evil. Unfortunately, most of the hunters who live in the area could care less about the quality of the herd, and more about whether they fill their buck tags every year regardless of the rack size or animal’s age. Pennsylvanians are way behind the rest of the country in terms of their acceptance of Quality Deer Management principles, and instead I estimate at least six out of ten hunters are not in favor of them. This leads me to the issue of posting the property.

In a perfect world, everyone (or at least most) would embrace Quality Deer Management and be willing to follow stricter harvest principles. That might help keep doors open on properties like mine, or better yet, make this property seem less exciting because you had a reasonable chance to harvest a mature buck just about anywhere. There’s also the issue of hunting pressure, as well as the cost of owning and maintaining the property. Although this property is posted, there are still a dozen individuals who can hunt here, and that’s an awful lot for just under 200 acres. Add to that the fact that it’s expensive to own and maintain the property, and it’s hard to let just anyone in. A management property just isn’t the same as a large farm that welcomes as many hunters as possible to shoot as many deer as possible.

One of the benefits of walking the property this time of year is you can find good mature buck sign that you might have missed while focused on hunting. I found a bunch of massive rubs like this one on my travels over the last few days.

I grew up relying on private properties for hunting, and I was always upset when I saw another piece of land get posted. Now that I’m a little older and a landowner myself with specific management goals, I have a different perspective. One thing about Pennsylvania though is it is the state with the most public land in the country. That means there are thousands upon thousands of acres open the public for hunting, even though it’s underutilized. I think if I found myself without my own land to hunt, or a friend’s private land, I would take the public land route. In the meantime, I hope more and more people begin to embrace Quality Deer Management principles, which would mean better deer hunting for everyone.

Note:  Illinois is thought of by many as the “mecca” of big buck hunting. One of the biggest reasons is the fact that they only have a three-day firearms season, and it is restricted to shotguns or muzzleloaders. Pennsylvania has a two-week firearms season, and high-powered rifles can be used making it easily possible to harvest a buck from distances beyond 200 yards. If Pennsylvania proposed a three-day firearms season and took away high-powered rifles, people would riot in the streets. We still have a long way to go here.

How can you let Thanksgiving pass without taking some time to reflect upon what you’re thankful for? After all, that is the spirit of the holiday. I’m extremely thankful for many, many things in my life, but for the purposes of my post today, I’ll focus on the hunting-related reasons.

Number one, I’m thankful that I grew up in the rural hillsides of western Pennsylvania where the hunting tradition is perhaps the strongest in the country. I’m also thankful for my dad who took the time to teach me and my brother how to hunt, and the many years we’ve had since to hunt together as a family. Most importantly, he taught us the right way and the safest way, and for that I’ll be forever grateful.

I’m thankful that I am physically capable of hunting intensely, and that I’m not held back by health issues that limit my ability to put in the time and energy I do each year. I couldn’t imagine not being able to hunt, and I feel for those who are in that position. This is why I ALWAYS wear a safety harness while in a tree stand, and make the safest decisions while in the woods.

I’m thankful for a wonderful wife who understands my passion for whitetail hunting, and encourages me along the way. She takes a tremendous burden off of my mind by not ever making me feel that I should be doing something else around the house, or that I spend too much time in the woods. I love that she enjoys shooting her bow with me and going to 3D shoots, and that she is also a hunter now, and my best buddy.

I’m thankful for being able to accomplish my childhood dream of owning property to hunt on, and living in the woods in a log house. I’ve been blessed with a successful conservation career and a little luck that helped make that possible. I’ll never take for granted being able to walk out my door with my bow and into the woods. There was a time that everyone could do that, but it seems those days are behind us now.

Finally, I’m thankful for the success I’ve had over the years, and most importantly, for what hunting has done for me. I thank God every time I’m in the woods for the wonderful privilege to hunt. I think I’ve done some of my best thinking while on stand waiting for the right deer to come by, and simply being away from the rest of the world for a while certainly helps recharge the batteries. Frankly, I think hunting makes me a better person.

Take a few moments to reflect on what you’re thankful for when it comes to hunting. It just might bring back a few great memories, and a smile to your face. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Is it just me or has winter come a little early this year? For the past few years, we had a cold snap in late October and early November, but very little snow and the temperatures recovered to normal by mid November. This year we’ve been blasted by arctic air for a couple of weeks now, and have seen a few inches of snow, including tonight. I had to do a little game camera work tonight so I decided to take along the camera and capture some of the early winter scenes. Enjoy!

The view from our porch was relaxing as the snow rested quietly on the spruce branches.

My GlenDel Full Rut Buck target looks like it hasn't been used for weeks.

The same small walking path that Crabby used to frequent looks quiet now under the couple inches of snow.

The gas line corridor provides a view into the distance, guarded by snow-covered branches.

This heavily-used trail stands out easily among the snow-covered ground and underbrush.

This scrape shows signs of a recent visit as it is still visible despite the light snow cover.

One of my game cameras sits snow-covered awaiting its next subject to pass by.

Every year growing up I looked forward to the day we would sight our guns in as we prepared for the firearms season. We didn’t really shoot throughout the year, so this was my one window of opportunity to fire the rifle. I loved the smell of solvent and gun powder when my dad opened his gun case, which seemed to go hand-in-hand with the smell of Thanksgiving dinner.

My brother Chuck was shooting his brand-new 7mm-08 for the first time. It didn't take long for him to put holes in the quarter-sized orange dot in the center of the target.

Yesterday was shooting day. Originally it was supposed to be me, my brother, and my dad, but somehow word got out that the range was set-up and the next thing you know we had enough guys to form a small army. In fact, we ended up with four neighbors at the house, which really brought back childhood memories. There were several calibers represented including .270, .30-.30, 7mm-08, .308, .222, and even an in-line muzzleloader. We threw a lot of lead, and in the process, tore a giant hole into the ground at the end of my parents’ yard!

Once I began shooting the bow, my firearms hunting career really took a back seat. Still, you can’t replace that feeling of opening day, which is always filled with the anticipation of taking a buck. You just don’t get that with the archery opener, probably because the season gets better as it goes along as opposed to firearms where the activity decreases. I was shooting in the .30-.30 Savage for Angela since she was beginning preparations for Thanksgiving dinner. I put a scope on it for her, so it took a little time to get it centered in. This is the same gun that both my brother and I shot our first deer with, so it has become a family heirloom. I also shot my CVA in-line muzzleloader, which I hope to use on opening day to take a doe. I have a doe tag for the management unit that I grew up hunting, and this will allow me to hunt near my dad, who still has a buck tag. Angela won’t be able to hunt until the first Saturday, and I’m excited at the possibility of her getting her first buck. She took her first deer last year, a doe right behind the house, and I think I was more excited than she was.

Anyone who knows me well knows that I’m pretty much all whitetails all of the time with regard to hunting. Every once in a while I have a small window of opportunity to hunt turkey, and I had one today. I’m definitely not a serious turkey hunter and my approach today was typical of that. I was really going to rearrange my game cameras, but I took the gun along and my turkey calls in case I came across some while I was out and about.

As I headed up the hollow after servicing two of my cameras, I noticed a fresh set of turkey tracks in the snow. They were so fresh in fact that I decided to find the nearest tree and start calling. It didn’t take long to get a response and before I knew it, I was reeling him in like I had him on a fishing line. I gently adjusted my position to ensure the best shot angle when the bird arrived. I could see him coming through the brush, and his purple head was a clear sign that the bird was a gobbler. As he approached, I decided to let him walk into a nice opening in front of me a mere 10 yards out. By now I could see his lengthy beard dandling from his chest, and I’m pretty sure I smiled a bit, almost laughing at my dumb luck.

The bird stepped into the opening and I gently squeezed the trigger anticipating the “boom” that would end the lonely turkey’s life. I pulled, and pulled, and pulled, and NOTHING! “What the %$#@!” I checked the safety and it was all systems go. It had to be the action. By this time it occurred to the bird that he really screwed the pooch and he needed to get the hell out of there. I must have looked like a petty thief getting caught red-handed trying to steal a 50-cent candy bar from the grocery store. I panicked, pushing on the action and apparently still squeezing the trigger and “POW.” The shot blew dirt on the bird as he achieved lift-off! Out of pure anger and disbelief, I fired the remaining to shots at him, and succeeded at taking out most of the canopy cover above me, as well as punching myself in the nose when the gun recoiled.

I have a bad history with the eastern wild turkey, and today was the cherry on top. I was so irritated, I actually switched guns (oh yeah, I took my beat-up old 12 gauge Savage pump instead of my brand-new Remington…that makes sense) and spent the rest of the afternoon looking for another bird. Of course, there wasn’t another track on the property, and my fall turkey season was over. I’m such a jackass!

As I was loading up my gear to leave on Friday, I was checking to make sure that my load was secure and realized that my climbing stand was frozen to my ATV.

Because of the weather, it’s really hard to fairly judge the quality of the hunt. I plan to look into some other options for next year, but I’m not opposed to going back to Almost Heaven next fall. I’ll take some time before making a final decision. Also, my lease runs until June, which will allow me to go back to the property in the spring and take another look around. I may even make a quick trip to hunt the property after Thanksgiving if the weather is right. It’s possible that I could have a decent hunt if there is still a bit of late rut going on.

This was the scene as I headed down the mountain after throwing in the towell on Friday morning. Not exactly prime archery hunting weather.

It was wondeful to sleep in my own bed last night with the wife by my side, the dog in her bed at the foot of ours, and the cats running around like they were on fire all night. I enjoy coming home as much as I enjoy arriving on hunting trips away from home. They tend to be physically and mentally demanding, so your body appreciates coming home to recharge the batteries. It’s funny though how quickly you want to get back to the woods. As I was washing my hunting clothes and reorganizing my gear, I was already making plans to get back out in my head. I plan to check my game cameras around the house today, reset them to sit through the firearms season, and maybe even chase a turkey around if I see one. As I’m typing this, I’m looking out the window watching for deer to cross the hillside behind the house. I also spent last night and this morning watching hunting shows. I guess it just never ends!

The Buck Truck was thawing out in the parking lot before my final trek up the mountain. If it could talk, I'm sure it would have said, "Are you out of your freaking mind?"

I had the best of intentions this morning. I got up in plenty of time, got my gear together, and headed to the mountain to brave the elements. There was light snow falling at the hotel, but the wind didn’t seem too horrible. That all changed once I got on the mountain. As I was getting my equipment ready, steady gusts of wind pounded the hillside, snow blowing with it. I sat back in my truck and put some serious thought into the wisdom of trying to hunt in this weather, and in this remote location. Common sense won out and I decided to just wait until daylight to get my stand down and head out.

Cory and Kevin passed by me on their ATV headed to the top of Lightning Ridge. I don’t suspect they’ll last much longer than I did. In fact, they may be pulling their stands as I write this, and making the same plans I am. I figured I would just return to the room, get a hot shower, and pack up everything while I wait for the weather to break a bit. Although this is West Virginia, this part of the state isn’t used to this, which is evidenced by the one snow plow that makes its way back and forth on Route 10. Who could have known that the week we picked would be a record breaker in terms of snowfall and low temperatures? The guys who have been hunting here for a while said this is easily the worst week of weather they’ve ever had here. Lucky us!

It’s way too early to say how I felt about this trip. It would be unfair to give it a failing grade simply due to the weather. Despite everything, I did come very close to taking down a good buck, and I saw plenty of evidence that they’re here. I’ll have the five-hour trip home this afternoon to digest it all. One thing is for sure, I miss my girls, starting with my wife, Angela, and our daughters Arrow (dog), Mercy, and Stella (cats). I hate to quit the hunt on such a down note, but the bottom line is this. I hunt because I really enjoy being outdoors, and the challenge of taking a trophy buck. When it’s not enjoyable anymore, it’s time to stop.