I returned to Goethe about 4 PM on Sunday for an evening sit. I was happy to see that there was only one other set of footprints, besides my own, on the woods road that started my trek to the tree stand, and that they were both coming and going. Looks like I'd have the island to myself yet again.
I'd been concerned by how easily the does picked up on my scent the prior morning. I was willing to gamble on some kind of cover scent. That morning I'd gone by the local big-box store and purchased a can of doe-in-estrus scent. Yes, I purchased pee. The aerosol variety. I almost laughed at the idea as the clerk scanned it, but I'm sure he'd seen it all before and was unfazed.
When I was a couple hundred yards from the stand I uncapped the urine and sprayed a liberal coating on the soles of my boots. Man, what a raunchy odor! Like a sheep pen in a barnyard or something. I wondered how long this pee had been in a can, for all I know the doe that passed it might have also passed. As I approached the area I let out a few short bursts on the trail behind me. I sprayed some on the pine needles near the scrape, and made another trail over to a good shooting lane. Then I climbed into the stand and sprayed the leaves around me.
The events of the prior day had worn at me psychologically. As I looked over to where the buck had approached, I realized how close he had been. I was still full of "should haves" over missing a chance at that buck, and I tried to prepare myself to react quickly this time if the need arose.
Not long after I'd arrived I heard a few yelps in the distance off to my right, out somewhere on the edge of the marsh. Now, almost two hours later, I heard something approaching from that direction. Two light in the step to be a deer, the sound resolved itself into multiple quick footsteps. First one, then another, then a whole flock of Meleagris gallopavo osceola, the Osceola Wild Turkey, filed by about 30 yards in front of me. They seemed totally unaware of my presence.
Heck, even the hubby has informed me I need to shoot a turkey, but I already knew they weren't in season here. Just in case I was wrong, I checked the PDF of regulations on my iphone (that's something hunters couldn't do a generation ago). Yep, I was right, not legit, and besides legal turkey hunting hours don't extend past 1 P.M. in Florida WMAs anyhow. Amazing though, all that aside this must be something like a fall turkey hunter's dream, a dozen or so birds passing right by in range at a nice slow pace.
Soon a sudden burst of heavy wing beats a little further off signaled that one of them had flown to roost. A few more followed, climbing to the top of the tall loblolly pines. I made a note to find out when the applications for the spring turkey quota permits need to be in. I have an old Browning shotgun that I bet would work pretty well.
After the turkeys passed it was quiet again, and the evening crawled past the moment of sunset. I decided to use the remaining twilight to walk out instead of waiting for full night. I couldn't resist one look out over the marsh as I passed though. Out in the distance, movement caught my eye. A brown back, a tail, then they were clear: a doe and a yearling, far away. At least, I thought, I've seen deer today.
I'd been concerned by how easily the does picked up on my scent the prior morning. I was willing to gamble on some kind of cover scent. That morning I'd gone by the local big-box store and purchased a can of doe-in-estrus scent. Yes, I purchased pee. The aerosol variety. I almost laughed at the idea as the clerk scanned it, but I'm sure he'd seen it all before and was unfazed.
When I was a couple hundred yards from the stand I uncapped the urine and sprayed a liberal coating on the soles of my boots. Man, what a raunchy odor! Like a sheep pen in a barnyard or something. I wondered how long this pee had been in a can, for all I know the doe that passed it might have also passed. As I approached the area I let out a few short bursts on the trail behind me. I sprayed some on the pine needles near the scrape, and made another trail over to a good shooting lane. Then I climbed into the stand and sprayed the leaves around me.
The events of the prior day had worn at me psychologically. As I looked over to where the buck had approached, I realized how close he had been. I was still full of "should haves" over missing a chance at that buck, and I tried to prepare myself to react quickly this time if the need arose.
Not long after I'd arrived I heard a few yelps in the distance off to my right, out somewhere on the edge of the marsh. Now, almost two hours later, I heard something approaching from that direction. Two light in the step to be a deer, the sound resolved itself into multiple quick footsteps. First one, then another, then a whole flock of Meleagris gallopavo osceola, the Osceola Wild Turkey, filed by about 30 yards in front of me. They seemed totally unaware of my presence.
Heck, even the hubby has informed me I need to shoot a turkey, but I already knew they weren't in season here. Just in case I was wrong, I checked the PDF of regulations on my iphone (that's something hunters couldn't do a generation ago). Yep, I was right, not legit, and besides legal turkey hunting hours don't extend past 1 P.M. in Florida WMAs anyhow. Amazing though, all that aside this must be something like a fall turkey hunter's dream, a dozen or so birds passing right by in range at a nice slow pace.
Soon a sudden burst of heavy wing beats a little further off signaled that one of them had flown to roost. A few more followed, climbing to the top of the tall loblolly pines. I made a note to find out when the applications for the spring turkey quota permits need to be in. I have an old Browning shotgun that I bet would work pretty well.
After the turkeys passed it was quiet again, and the evening crawled past the moment of sunset. I decided to use the remaining twilight to walk out instead of waiting for full night. I couldn't resist one look out over the marsh as I passed though. Out in the distance, movement caught my eye. A brown back, a tail, then they were clear: a doe and a yearling, far away. At least, I thought, I've seen deer today.
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