Reviewing the 2009-10 Hunting Season

For me, the 2009-10 Hunting Season is finished. The Hunting FY ends after Turkey Season is kaput. It’s time to analyze this past year and commence preparation for next. Besides, my energy levels are toast, and I’m ready to put ‘er in port for a while. The May Malaise – an awful affliction related to Mono that renders one totally fatigued and incapable of arising at the butt-crack of dawn for any reason – is in total control now. So let’s take a deep breath and gander back at the year that was.


The Highlights

Gator Hunting, no doubt, was one of the most exciting times I’ve had. What a fun way to kick off a hunting season. A bunch of buddies in a boat, stalking the red eyes of Mr. Grins across Polk County lakes. Hooking into one of these bad boys is a thrill, and the teamwork required to put one in the boat safely is a huge part of the buzz . Neither of the gators we took on my tags will awe the serious lizard hunters, but for my inaugural season, it got no better.


A day in North Carolina will live forever around the campfire as long as I'm alive to re-live it for everyone's pleasure. I’d taken a snooze in the stand to fight back a foggy head from the late night drive into town and awoke to two does standing in the dried out soybeans. Two shots, two kills. While on the phone telling Carolyn about it, another pair came running up the length of the field. Cracked a third, and, figuring I shouldn’t get too greedy, let the other one walk. All shots were over 200 yards and filled my freezer for the winter.

My first Georgia quail hunt won’t be withdrawn from the memory banks anytime soon, either. On a beautiful plantation with my soon-to-be-wife and in-laws, we had a fantastic shoot. The dogs worked hard as did the guides. It’ll be hard to let another December pass without a bobwhite extravaganza included.


A few others – the annual Christmas hunt in Sarasota County. Close friends and a perfect stress reliever after the busy holidays. Hunting in Levy County with long-time hunting buddies. It’s always more of a steak and bourbon affair, but I did pop a couple hogs.

The Lowlights

Missing the turkeys. You can surf back through my archives on this. And I still have another punishing tale to write once I muster the strength to do so.

Bow season. It was so blazing hot through September and October; the deer movement was about non-existent in Manatee County. On my last bowhunt in January on public land, it was the coldest day in the last 30 years in the Sunshine State.

Duck season was disappointing as well, but mostly from my lack of attendance. The few times I did make it out, the birds just didn’t cooperate. Friends still make these trips worth while.

The Enemies

Mother Nature proved, once again, what a fickle wench she can be. The extreme heat, the extreme cold. Just a weird weather year. The acorns didn’t fall until late, and the pollen in the Spring was intolerable. With the rain in between, some of the best-laid plans crumbled.

Something New


We went over gator and quail hunting. A trip to Lake Toho in September to shoot moorhen was fun – bet I can scrounge up some interest for a .410 tournament this next go-round. I scouted plenty of WMA’s I had not been on and look forward to hunting in the coming years.

My Hunting Plans for 2010-11

The quota season is getting close. Applying for hunts at…oh, wait, I’m not saying! Potentially, this year’s deer season can stretch from July to February with careful planning. There’s talk of bowhunting the heat and lightning in the South Zone for velvet bucks this August. Gator hunting permits will go online soon. You can bet my name will be in that hat. There’s a fleet of coyotes on my lease that I’ll have to tangle with sometime soon, as well as herds of hogs that need thinning. Gonna try to plant a dove field. Will also forgo bowhunting during that week in September when the early duck season is open. North Carolina in November is a-go. And who knows what else, especially with turkey. The hope is a strong tonic against the malaise.


Finally, thanks to everyone who reads my nonsense on a regular basis or even stops by, tricked by a fancy headline. The Lakeland Ledger runs a feed through its site, and I apparently haven’t written anything too offensive to change that. Same with Central Florida Online helmed by Marialice Quinn, a big supporter and source of encouragement. Trying to get the Orlando Sentinel to run a feed - feel free to e-mail them on how you feel about this.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention followers on blogspot, Backcountry Sportsmen, USA Hunting Pros, The Outdoor Show, FS Forum, NWTF, Mossy Oak, Florida Fish and Hunt, and The Wildlife Pro Network.

If any of ya’ll have any suggestions or tips to share about the site or hunting, holla. (And you can always subscribe by using the application on the right side of the page!)

Kinda weird chaptering the last nine months into such a short article, but rest assured, they were a fun nine months, regardless of how the hunts turned out.

Cheers to you and your hunting seasons!

Hunting the Deep Freeze

That sugar or scrub sand that is so prevalent in parts of Central Florida is some nasty stuff. One spring I feared a rain-soaked road of it would swallow Dad’s old diesel suburban. I'd paused to glass an open field for gobblers and happened to look down as this quicksand enveloped the tires. We were sinking. Luckily four-wheel low chugged us to safety.

In the summer, this dirt is baking hot. It’s inhospitable. Snakes love it, as do scorpions and spiders. And during any time of the year, game tracks are distorted to dimples making it impossible to discern what had passed through. At the very least, this ankle-turning sand makes even a simple hike seem like an interminable hump through the desert.

This weekend, though, the sand was frozen hard. Only with a quick bounce would the earth give way to crumble. Other than that, it was like walking on pavement. And in the pre-dawn darkness of Sunday morning, the trail to my stand sparkled in the flashlight like one of those whiny Twilight vampires.



Twenty-four degrees the truck thermometer read. With apologizes to my Northern friends, that’s cold here, easily the coldest I’ve hunted in the state of Florida. Icicles hung from palmettos and scrub oaks. Saturday, the sleet pelted me in the tree stand as I got texts from my sister saying it was snowing in town. Record lows throughout the state. Weird.

Just for fun I’d spit on the rail of my Summit Viper to see how long it’d take to freeze. My phone kept shutting off mid-text or Internet search, the circuits seized by the cold. And the tweety birds in the tree ahead of me looked like little brown cotton balls or monster dust bunnies as they gripped their perches with ruffled, shaking feathers. The woods were quiet. This made it all the more surprising when the coyote showed up.

In all honesty, on public land, in this weather, almost any warm blooded mammal was going to catch an arrow, a coyote especially. But, I always underestimate them. As he trotted behind some bushes following a trail that’d lead him within 15 yards of my stand, I stood to draw. How he saw me through the myrtles, I won’t ever know, but between gaps in the branches I saw him lift his head, gaze the 20 feet up the pine where I stood, raise his tail and bounce right out of the area.

And that was it for my Upper Hillsborough WMA bowhunt. Spent just shy of nine hours on the stand between Saturday evening and Sunday morning freezing my keister. Strange thoughts dominated my hunt.

“I wonder how warm it’d be if Han Solo showed up and rolled Tauntaun guts on me?”

“How the hell did the Jets win/Cincy blow that game?”

“I bet they find me clinging to this bow like Hatchet Jack.”

I guess my other moment of excitement was when the bottom half of my climber escaped me during the descent down the pine. Dressed in so many layers I wasn’t exactly limber, and I was in a big hurry to return to the seat warmers in the Dodge.

Anyway, in haste, I didn't exercise the proper caution I normally would this high up and failed to properly secure my boots in the holders. As you can guess, they slid out and the foot platform went bouncing down the tree, settling cockeyed against the trunk when the safety line – the same line that had recently been tied back together; not confident it would stay together – took hold. I’m tall, but I could just barely extend my boot toes to touch the suspended half. I contemplated the situation.

“Dad’s on the other side of the property, I have the truck and keys. It’s 30 degrees and I’m still at least 15-16 feet up this pine. Hmm. After the fall do I bleed out, freeze to death, or does the coyote finish me off?”

I’ve always said safety straps are for those afraid to fall. I’ll be buying mine before September. I took a breath and used my 3rd grade gym training to lower myself on the rails of the upper half of the stand like balance beams. I managed to get low enough to jockey the foot rest back onto the tree, then slowly worked the stand back to the ground. By the way, my flimsy gloves helped none on that cold metal.



Ugghh. At first glance, the spot I sat was a goodie though it was close to a road, usually a no-no for me when hunting WMA’s. My original haunt had been violated by a lock-on some miscreant had erected on converging trails in a transition zone between a thick cypress head and palmetto flat I’d scouted months prior. Compromising, I wandered a few hundred yards to the west and settled on my location thanks to a fresh rub on a well-used trail. I fell victim to that temptation, ignoring some of my common sense.

For starters, there wasn’t crap for them to eat here unless they headed for the palmetto flat, which I expected them to do. But then again, I was hoping the deer would venture into the open on public land, which is foolhardy in itself. Tracks pummeled the firebreak road walking in, but who knows when they were made or what time. Wish I had spent more time scouting, but it was a busy fall and winter.

Dad had it right. He hung his climber on a shift between the tall pines and an open cypress swamp. In the swamp there was still some browse, and the scrub oaks surrounding the area were dropping acorns. He saw four deer, including a nice buck that was a little out of range.

On the ride out Saturday night, some guy had a little six point hanging at the cleaning station. It was a scrub buck for sure – small body and spindly antlers, but good for that hunter enduring the cold and coming out on top. I thought about that buck all night hoping to get my chance, but it wasn't to be.

And like that, my deer season is over. Fitting the weather was so strange as it has been since September when I started. Looking forward to finishing off duck season and maybe some hog hunting. For sure, I'm taking my predator calls back to Upper Hillsborough to settle the score with one coyote.

It should be warmer.

Asleep in the Stand - Hunting Links: The Coyote Edition

I'm not real sure what got me thinking about coyotes today. Heck, it's been a full three weeks since I've seen one. Maybe it was my dad who asked to borrow my predator caller, Mojo decoy, and .17HMR that bounced my mind this way. Perhaps it's the recognition that it's been one year since I've been off my Georgia lease where I'd listen to the yotes moan their misereres in the quiet cold of the December gloaming.

Whatever the reason, I have Song Dogs on the brain.

Dad's plans were thwarted, not by Wile E. himself, but someone who was supposed to meet him, but didn't, and yadda yadda.

I've killed a few - none that would have been any burden to man. Just those that happened by at the wrong moment. I've set out to intentionally kill more, but...well, they are about the smartest blasted animals I've run across. You need to be fully camoed, watch your scent, and cover some ground to unearth canines bedded in thickets. Hunting them in the South is supposedly a different sport than in the wide-open West. I've called a couple in. Killing them is a different task. Hopefully in February I'll get another crack at some.

Anyway, coyotes have been in the news a lot lately. Back in November I ran across this article about the dogs interfering with taxiing airline at Raleigh-Durham International. As if the airline industry doesn't have enough to worry about.

Coyote attacks on suburban house pets is also a fairly common evening news segment in Florida these days. One pack ruined the Thanksgiving holidays with it's taste for something other than turkey...guess Fido doesn't contain Tryptophan.

Florida and North Carolina aren't the only states suffering. Georgia, as I mentioned above, hosts a sizable population of coyotes. Officials there are trying to get the word out about the dangers of these animals, mostly rabies and attacking pets. As proud as Georgia fans are, I bet a hungry yote dog would give Ol' Uga a run for his money.

If you want to know more about these mini-wolves, the FWC has information here.

But really, all you need to know is well-written here by James Swan at ESPNOutdoors.com

If you're looking for a thrill this postseason, order up a rabbit sqealer and give coyote calling a try. If I'm ever successful, I'll share what worked for me!!!