DeanO Does DeerO

Welcome our newest link DeanO. He blogs about life, religion, deer hunting and friends. He thinks he is getting too old to hunt but keeps at it. He has wonderful stories to share, cost-cutting advice, some political mish mash and writes a really good blog. Go over and visit him.

A Very Close Thanksgiving

Paul and Michael eating first of course

Dad with my daughters, Erin and Sarah

Wanda and Denise getting the desserts ready

Erin with your friendly neighborhood blogger

the girls, Michael and Trent almost ready for some pecan pie!

How Was It You Ask? Don't

How was it? Not so good. There were some bright spots of course but overall not our best hunt even though the Thanksgiving meal and fellowship was good right up 'till it started raining. It started well as Austin got a doe and Paul got a hog! Then Spencer got a big doe for his first deer of the season.

Then things started to unravel.
Paul shot at a giant buck at 50 yards and MISSED. Yes, I know he sold his soul to the devil for antlers, so this was the most unusual thing I have ever witnessed. We are going to mount the tree limb he shot so all is not lost. I shot a hog, it got away. Michael shot a hog, it got away. Spencer shot a hog, it got away. Where the hell is Phillip?
The Thanksgiving meal was great and I will post pics tomorrow.
Then it started to rain and we were cooped up in the camphouse listening to it pour. The septic tank backed up. You don't want to know. It kept raining and raining. Trent managed a hog in the drizzle on Sunday morning.

Too bad about Paul, you know how humble he is about his shooting ability.

Thanksgiving At Deer Camp

Each year we celebrate Thanksgiving at camp. It is crowded and there is little privacy but we get 4 days of hunting in and get to be with our family. I am leaving this afternoon (probably too late to hunt) and will be there through the weekend. I think there is a big buck down there with my name on it. Hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

Another Geat Hunt

While Trent was shooting the little deer in the post below, my friend Jeffrey Hollis was doing something important. He managed to blast this big hog over on the River while hunting on the opening weekend. This 200 pounder would make the Mailrider jealous.

One Really Fine Deer

This was the first weekend of gun season and Trent started the year off right when he took this really fine 13 point buck. The big deer weighed in at 210 pounds with an 18 inch spread. Looks like the bar is going to be at an all time high. Congratulations!!!!

Hell Hath Froze Over

For the first time in recorded history, the Bloody Baron (aka Paul Howell), yes that minion of evil, is not expected at camp for opening day. Why? Hell if I know. The excuse he gave was something about going to the ballgame. This is the same guy that moves to the camp in November and stays 'till March. He has never missed a day of deer season, much less opening day. When there is killin' to be done, he's your man. I sent him an email asking him what was up with that and he sent me this picture.

*WHEN YOU ARE IN DEEP SHIT, LOOK STRAIGHT AHEAD,
KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT & SAY NOTHING !!!!
(methinks he is in deep do-do)
HEY! That means his stand is open!!!!!!!!!!!!

Where to Hunt???????

I swear I have no idea. Should I go up the lake or just go to one of the fields? Paul and Trent have been scouting and looking for months but some people have to work. I have three days to figure it out. Maybe I will do something totally unexpected. Either way DEER SEASON STARTS SATURDAY!

The 600 Pound Doe

I was hunting the Arrowhead field this past weekend during our muzzle-load doe season. At 7:00 AM three does came out in front of me easing across the field and heading for the edge of the hollow below me. I shot and the doe reared, turned, took two leaps and was gone. I could not believe that it did not fall in its tracks. Then I prayed that it did not make the edge of the hill. I got down and eased over to the edge of the field and followed the blood trail. Twenty feet into the woods I saw where the deer had made the edge of the deep ravine in front of me and I could see the deer at the very bottom. OMG! It was straight down 200 feet. It was in the deepest, steepest canyon on the whole property! I worked my way down and checked the deer. It weighed about 100 lbs. I started taking off gear, grabbed the deer and started pulling. Almost an hour later I got to the top of the hill with the 600 pound monster doe just before I had a heart attack.
Trust me that if you shoot a deer here, the last thing you want is for it to fall into one of our deep canyons.

Early Doe Season Results

Our early muzzle-loader opener went very well this past weekend. Your friendly neighborhood blogger (moi') took one doe an a gray-back hog. My little cousin Katie was with me and we had an exciting hunt. Austin got a deer! (miracle) and a young man named Justin Rose got his first deer. Dean Lammey had his usual results (0) and Oh yeah, Old Blind Jones managed to miss another deer.

Saturday night after a successful hunt

Me and Jonesy with my Porkulus Phillipius

Justin bloodied for his first deer

Old Blind Jones

Mr. Jones is going to deer camp with me today. It has been awhile since he has killed a deer but he has high hopes. I am worried since he is blind as a bat. He says his glasses are broken (he won't get them fixed), says he can see through his scope (???), and says he is a great shot (haha) If I can get a deer within 10 feet of him he might have a chance. PS hope a hog doesn't get him when he is blindly traipsing through the woods and thinks it's a really big squirrel coming toward him.

Someone Knows What to Do

Burney got this nice doe last weekend, it's his 2nd deer already.

A Trap For The Masked Armadillo

Usually at the time of year a mysterious hunter appears while we are working and traips through the middle of us and goes hunting. Not this year.
A clever trap laid by Dad finally caught the Masked Armadillo before he could get to the woods on his 4-wheeler. Minutes later he was shoveling with the rest of us in a project of busy work that dad had decided on. When we finished he tried to get away again but hauling brush was the next priority and Dad threw him right in the middle of it. I guess justice does exist, even with the Masked Armadillo.

The Last Youth Hunt

I hope that it is not the last youth hunt but all my children are past the age of 15 except for Erin. This will be her last youth hunt. She is just about grown now. Here is a pic from her recent prom. Erin is on the left.

On the bright side, we are about to blast the hell out of some deer and hogs!

Off To The Range

This morning Greg, Mark and I are heading out to Greg's property to shoot our rifles. I need to get the dirt dobbers out of my barrel and see if I can hit the side of a barn before deer season starts, and those two guys need all the practice they can get. Will let you know the results later.

Ghost At Work

I don't even know why I go to work on Halloween. Every year those damn ghost get to swooping around my office until I can't get any work done. They hide my pens, disrupt the internet and my computer, phones won't work, and they try to scare the hell out of anyone that comes in my office.
I'll try to stay in this creepy old office as long as I can, but I assure you that I will be gone from here way before dark. It really gets scary then.

The Bell Of The Tchula Lady

It was the hottest part of August when the weird idea to go frog gigging over on the River struck us. I asked Paul Jones what he knew about the frogging over in that area and he told me that it should be good. He had not seen any vehicles with boats over at the landing at night in almost a month. He figured we could catch about as many as we wanted. Paul, Burney and I started planning right then but Paul Jones interrupted us with one of his cryptic final statements. “The River has been channeled but down about two miles there is a double bow where you follow the old River for about half a mile. When you get to it, you can see it is marked on the side by a mile marker, #27. If I was you, I would get in the middle and drift down past the last bow and don’t try to catch any frogs ‘till then.” We stared at him. He didn’t say anything else. Paul Jones has a habit of knowing way to much about the history of this place but when pressed he said “maybe nothing, but do what I say and there won’t be no trouble” That’s all we could get out of him.
A week later we were ready. We had boats, we had coolers, we had lights, we had beer, we had everything we needed. We even picked up a couple of stragglers in Mark Stewart, Mark Rose, Stewart Allen and Terry Cutrere. Two boats to cover the River with me driving one and Burney the other. We planned about a 10 mile drift and then to come back up to catch what we missed on the way down.
Catching frogs is not done with a gig. One man sits in the front usually wearing heavy gloves, 2nd man in the middle holds the light, and the 3rd man drives the boat. You shine their eyes and blind them, pull the boat in tight and grab them. Simple as pie.
The night was black as pitch as we headed downriver floating and talking until we started seeing a few frogs and then split up to cover each side of the river. We caught some, put ‘em in the cooler, missed a few but everyone had a shot at it and we drank beer and enjoyed the night. Before we had gone 1/2 mile the fog rolled in on us and it started getting quiet. Mark Rose in the other boat shined his light high on the bank and we could just make out marker #27 and we floated into the first bend.
You could tell it was the old river as tall timber overhang this part and we let the current pull us forward. The water was low but the river narrowed here. It was spooky but it seemed like frogs were everywhere. We split up and started getting them. We had caught 10 before a frantic bobbing of the lights caught our attention and we eased the motor until we crossed over and found Burney holding a snag waiting for us in his boat.
Both boats shined their light at a mass of old timbers jutting from the bank. The huge timbers were covered by big frogs and I started to tell Burney they could get in to them but he said “Listen” and we all quieted down. It was still in the swirling fog with just the slapping of the water on the boats but You could hear it low and slow, the chiming of a bell coming from the old wreck in front of us. As we listened it quickly got louder. The frogs in front of us escaped into the water as we realized that the sound was coming from the old pile-up. Shining the light we spotted an old marker at the top of the bank. It read The Tchula Lady.
As the noise grew louder a shrill shriek seemed to echo in it that hurt our ears, the blood curdling sound seemed to reach into your soul and it seemed like the fog seemed to swirl in amongst the timbers until it looked like people were moving there. We quickly backed into the middle of the River. I almost had to fight Cutrere to get control of the motor after Paul grabbed his leg to tell him to turn the light downstream and almost caused the whole group to panic and sink the boat. We all took off downriver until the noise faded behind us. Not much frogging was done after that and later when we came back up the river it was done at full throttle hugging the opposite side of the River.
Paul Jones had built a fire on the bank and was waiting for us when we got back to the landing. We tried to tell him about what happened but he already knew. He told us the tale then. “The Tchula Lady was a paddle-wheeler that ran mostly from The Misissippi, up to Yazoo City and then to Tchula carrying supplies and people. During the Civil war it carried soldiers and was ambushed in that bow below Parkers Landing by Union cavalry with cannons and sank with all hands. It caught in a snag at the bend of the River and everyone that made a swim to the bank was shot. No one survived. The ship burned right there and the old timbers in the bank are all that’s left of it. The story is that it is still trying to make the run up river and the ghost don't want to be disturbed. I have heard that the sound of the bell will burst your eardrums or make you lose your mind if you stay and listen too long.” That was the end of our frog hunting expeditions on that River.

Katies' Big Day

My cousin, Katie, is getting married this weekend. Yes, I know that no one in their right mind gets married during the fall or winter, but love can make you blind and I don't think her new husband is a hunter.
Katie is the daughter of my cousin, Kent (a reformed duck hunter) and he and his wife Marijean are planning on a hoedown that Oxford has never seen before. I have been warned that no one will be allowed to wear camo, hip boots, waders, or any hunting gear at all.
The women are all up in the air about this so I guess the deer will have to wait another week.
(and yes, any wedding at Halloween is scary.)

The Secret Spot

Why are all the members at the famous Christmas Place creeping around scouting for big deer sign? The reason is that they are all looking for the Secret Spot. This is a secret place nestled in an obscure place that no one knows about except them. This place is where the very biggest bucks make their home and where a huge trophy can be taken if they can just find it. Just hunting there is where all the action is as a parade of bucks wander by as you wait for that giant (Thunderhoof?) to make his appearance.
Don't worry, I'm looking too.

Laid By

All of our fields are officially laid by for the winter. (thank god)They are all planted and taken care of and those damn deer better appreciate them. Bucks are starting to move and are leaving their sign in the woods for us to get excited about. Lots of hooks were seen as we went over the property this weekend. The peanuts are gone but there are plenty left on the ground that should attract deer and hogs as it gets colder. Looks like a great year is just about to begin.