Crossbow Aficionado

(Also Posted at Good Hunt.)

From the months of feeder maintenance, setting up a stand, and cutting shooting lanes to religiously checking the trail camera and extensive range time to make sure my broadheads hit their mark, this was the most calculated hunt I think I have ever conducted. I knew that deer would be there at first light on Opening Morning of Florida’s archery season, and sure enough, the time had come to collect.

I had not planned on the scope fogging up. This would be a whole lot more impressive if I were writing about a 10-point, but no, it was only a doe. For whatever reason, the bucks on our little lease disappeared over the summer. Perhaps they heard I acquired a crossbow.

I’ve taken a great deal of abuse from buddies about my new toy. Most feel it’s cheating, but I don’t really care.

Look, I’ve never been enchanted by the lyrical magic of archery that many enthusiasts claim they feel in their souls. Aspects of the sport are more challenging than gun hunting, without question, and therefore more satisfying for some, but I can’t say it does much for me. In 15 years of bowhunting, I’ve learned how to set-up on deer with more accuracy and employed that to all styles of hunting. I’ve enjoyed the extra time in the woods. We’ve hadgood times and bad, but that’s what I’ve taken away from it. And besides, as the saying goes, the dyer’s hands are stained by the elements from which he works – I’ll ditch anything with a string when I can get a centerfire in my grasp.

This is not to say, however, I do not appreciate esoteric challenges. Shy of using a flintlock or bolt-action handgun, I’ve harvested deer with just about every legal hunting implement out there, and the desire to knock one off with a bolt was appealing. And with being a faithful reporter in the world of hunting, the use of crossbows has increased over the last several years, and I just wanted to see what the fuss was all about.

So after months of not-so-subtle hints of e-mails with various models and prices, my wife and mother gifted me a PSE Reaper combo package complete with 4 cheap bolts and a scope with 5 reticles for my birthday in August. On the money side, it’s towards the more-affordable. You can easily drop more cash on a fancier model but for what may be a passing fancy, this just didn’t seem prudent – and who’s to argue with such a rig as a present. Saints, my family.

Truth be told, my first impressions were not great, though I am a fan of PSE products. What I had thought would be a slam-dunk proposition turned into challenges of its own. One, the thing is heavy and fairly unwieldy in a stand. When you pull the trigger it sounds like a hammer hitting a trailer hitch. The trigger itself you almost need to use the cocking device on which doesn’t breed accuracy. And that scope…even jacked up as high as I could crank it, the 15 and 25 yard reticles were pushing the bolts into the dirt. You don’t have to stand and draw, which is essentially the biggest advantage, but that doesn’t matter if you can’t get the bolt to hit in the right place or the deer jumps the string.

After quickly tearing the fletchings off the factory bolts during practice, I purchased a 6-pack of Laser II Gold Tips, screwed in 100-grain Rage mechanical broadheads, and sighted them in. I need to research how to dampen the noise and a new scope is in order, but by employing the bottom three reticles and applying a little Kentucky windage to the top two, I was consistently hitting the bull and felt confident enough to take it to the stand a couple Saturdays ago.

The doe, though, wasn’t real impressed with my movement as I frantically tried to wipe the steam out of the scope, which, by the way, isn’t ideal for low-light situations, either. Say what you will about crossbows, but there are still range limitations at play and dithering around within 30 yards of game is usually a recipe for disaster.

Fortunately, I rubbed the scope clean, and the second she stopped high-stepping around the feeder ready to blow off to points unknown, she turned broadside. I hit high which dropped her in her tracks. Having lost game before on high shots, I slid down the rails of the stand like a firefighter, re-cocked the PSE and immediately put an insurance bolt in her. Fresh venison in the freezer on the initial day of hunting season. In 20 years of chasing deer, I believe that’s the first time I’ve accomplished that.

As I said, there are still issues to be corrected, but it’s great to be off to a fast start and beat the skunk. I’m not totally over the standard bow – mostly because many WMA’s and jealous friends with property won’t allow crossbows. But the PSE is a fun new toy for at least this season. I do have a feeling it’ll be a productive relationship.

A Hen Story

I poach posts from this website all the time for my other blog, Good Hunt - think it's about time to cut back across the grain. If you've not checked out Good Hunt or Polk Outdoors, please do so. 

Hope everyone's had a great hunting season, and I'll get to some original material soon enough!!!


"You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow; This opportunity comes once in a lifetime" - Eminem

So one of the neat things about hunting some of Florida's WMA's is the opportunity to harvest a hen turkey during the fall, ostensibly while deer hunting. I can't imagine anyone would set out to do such a thing as its own hobby, so its gotta be a Luck of the Draw kinda deal. All I know is the rules prohibit private land hunters from doing so.

The only wrinkle is, you've got to shoot them during archery season. No easy feat on a 8-10 pound bird.

I first noticed this quirk in the regs while hunting Upper Hillsborough WMA several years back. Ever since, I've been unable to get this challenge out of my mind, but the opportunity to stick an egg-layer has never presented itself.

Why I care about such an esoteric pursuit is beyond me. It could be because I know no one else who's accomplished such a thing. Just look at all these variables involved and you'll understand the magnitude of this accomplishment. You'd be a hero.

Skittish Hen Turkey + Public Lands + Bow & Arrow + 20 Feet Up a Climber = Hunting Immortality

Straight to the taxidermist if success ever smiled on me.

So there I was last Saturday afternoon, lounging in my Summit Viper at the aforementioned Upper Hills WMA. One of the weird things about hunting Upper Hills is that it is very close to Sky Dive City in Zephyrhills. From dawn til dusk, all you hear is the drone of Twin Otters ascending to the proper altitude and descending back to the airfield. In between will come the sound of the violent unfurling of parachutes. Hold an empty plastic grocery bag out of the window next time you drive home from Publix, then magnify that noise by 100. Add that to the throttling engine noises and this should give you an idea of the cacophony associated with pulling a tag on this property.

All. Day. Long.

Anyhow, it's noisy hunting and almost impossible to discern the crunching of hoofbeats through the dry leaves of the cypress swamps, a near necessity to know when something is approaching in that thick environment. But crunching footsteps I did hear. Whatever it was made a ruckus.

It was about 3:00. I slowly rose from my seat, clipped my release onto the bow string, gently placed my iPhone down, and awaited what I was certain would be a big buck slip by my stand.

We've all been afield and heard thrashing in palmettos and expected something grand like a 10-point or giant boar or Swamp Ape to emerge from the shadows only to be disappointed and underwhelmed by an armadillo. This feeling was similar, but the disappointment shed quickly when I realized I might have my 1st shot at that hen I've long coveted.

A skinny bird, she took her time, slowly meandering through the bald cypress. She wasn't 30 yards away straight ahead, but the shooting lanes were all clogged - for an arrow, at least. A case could be made for a clear shot had I been allowed any sort of firearm. But, then, that wouldn't be part of the mystique, would it?

She'd have to hit spots 10 yards in front or 20 yards to either side to be in the money. The way she was trending, though, a shot was, for certain, in my future.

I figured I'd have at least a little wiggle room for movement, being that I was 25 feet up a tree and all, so I shifted just slightly anticipating a shot to my right. Well, on a breeze-less day, this rustled the branches of a tree that leaned against the cypress I had climbed.

Bang! The element of surprise was gone. She was alarmed.

The hen would poke her head up to look around for a few moments, take a couple steps and repeat. Minutes turned to hours. My heart was racing and brow dumping sweat now. She was so close to a clean shot, just a few more steps...

When I thought she was obscured from view behind one final myrtle, I pulled my PSE back, knowing her next four strides into the open would be her last. Somehow - somehow - she caught me and turned 15 yards into 35. She paused on a fallen log and I released the Rage hoping the Force or Lady Luck or a fortunate wind would direct my arrow into the Kill Zone.

Today I feel like a kicker who missed the winning field goal of the Super Bowl. A slugger who struck out with 3 on and 2 outs in Game 7. I've had a couple 2-hour breakfasts alone to ponder this tragedy and realized alcoholism and a tell-all book is my future now - which is pretty depressing since I've essentially told all already.

If you've ever had success plugging a hen Osceola in the state of Florida with a bow - legally - please share.

Those of you who have missed, like me, counseling sessions are every first Tuesday of the month at Bass Pro in Orlando.

Recap of 1st 2011 Bowhunt

Finally made my first bowhunt of the season. It’d been a long time coming – the longest I’ve had to wait in like 12 years. Per tradition, I failed to sleep the night before and had high hopes I’d bust that bruiser buck. The lock-on stand was in a prime location; I expected wheel back to the check station like a pro.

I’m not going to repeat the last couple of years and write about every unsuccessful hunt I embark upon. No need. Who wants to really read about someone NOT shooting something? Heck, anyone can do that! Even if I have just about mastered futility with a bow, that doesn’t mean I need to share with everyone.

Still, there are always lessons to learn, stuff to report, and experiences to chronicle. When the time is right, it’s probably OK to relate a few of these expeditions. So I do want to review last weekend’s hunt at Duette Park in Manatee County, though I once again came home with a full quiver and a cooler full of excuses.

- I know better, I know better, I know better than to take unproven gear afield. My regular release – the one I’ve used and loved for ten years – crapped out on me Wednesday. Long story short, I broke open the package to the new one Saturday morning and tested pulling back the string before I headed off to my stand. While lowering the string, I don’t know if my finger or a leafy flange off my suit tapped the trigger, but the string popped that dull, hollow thunk of a dry-fire. Panicked I’d jumped the string off the cams and ruined the hunt, I noticed my peep sight had come free. The release needed to be tightened – and was eventually. It could have been disastrous, however.

- A cold front that was supposed to push through the state hung up over south-central Florida. The switching winds made deer sightings in my hammock rather improbable. But my scent control really shined through. First, a very large boar splashed and rumbled out of the swamp and fed behind me. Later, a spike walked practically under the stand. Finally, a button buck fed unalarmed in front of me for 30 minutes while a wind blew on my neck and up his nostrils. Say what you will about small, young, dumb deer, the hog proved something was working. I’d argue they have the best olfactory senses in these parts.

I showered with scent-eliminating shampoo and washed my clothes in scent-eliminating detergent. I wore camp clothes on the ride down with the hunting garb in a trash bag. After suiting up, I sprayed down with Scent Killer and put one of those delicious Scent Wafers on my ballcap. You can’t always control the weather and wind but you can go a long way towards minimizing its attempts to scatter your stink throughout the woods. It's not fail-safe but worth the efforts.

- Speaking of the deer. This is the spike. It’s hard to see since I recorded this on the iPhone. And the video quality really ate it when uploaded to YouTube. He’s actually a little 3-point – naturally, Duette has a 4-point minimum. You can tell he caught me moving while I fiddled with the phone. He did calm down, circled back in front of me and ambled away feeding. By the way, I’m shaking because I’m turned around trying to film. It is NOT Buck Fever.



- And here’s the button buck. This guy was legal but he might have weighed 50 pounds. The Rage would have cut him in half. As badly as I want to fill a freezer, I gave him the pass. What a swell guy I am. Note he’s eating on the gallberry bushes. This is important...



- ...because there are very few acorns down here this year. I haven’t been kicking around too many properties yet this fall but noticed the same thing in Sarasota County earlier in the week. It is gonna be another one of those crazy years, I feel. Anyone else want to offer up an acorn report? Still time to adjust stand locations – but not much time.

- Saturday morning I felt something crawling up the inside of my facemask. I figured it was just another bat-sized mosquito that slid through the Therma-Cell’s defenses. I swiped it away and that was that. A couple minutes later the same sensation returned on the right side of my face. I slapped it harder this time and was rewarded with a sharp, burning pain behind my ear in that spot people put seasickness patches. I struggled to free myself of the mask as a scorpion fell onto my lap, tail lifted and jabbing, claws extended. I flicked him off - I hope he fell to his death and is burning in Arachnid Hell.

Scorpion stings feel like someone extinguished a cigarette on your skin. It burns and aches for about 20 minutes; then, thankfully, peters out. Being a marvelous physical specimen, I am not allergic to these bites. If you are, an Epi-Pen or antihistamine or notepad and pencil to record your last will and testament should be in your daypack.

- The biologist at the check station said the deer are just a tick off from a full-blown rut. Hunters have reported bucks seeking does, but few have been brought to the check station during archery. Dad did say one young man took a fine buck a couple weeks ago. Smaller bucks were taken this weekend. By the time I return with a muzzleloader, it should be on like Donkey Kong.




Hopefully we’ll have a success story, then.

Deer Plans & Scouting - Lake Panasoffkee WMA Special Opportunity Hunt

I stood at the gate staring down into the swamp. I wouldn’t be able to drive my truck any further. The road into the dark was steep – a rough ride back up on bike. Bikes didn’t matter, though. I didn’t have one with me. Middle of July, I wasn’t about to walk into that skeeter pit.

This is going to be a tough hunt, I thought.

I pulled a Lake Panasoffkee Special Opportunity Archery permit for 12/1-12/4. With twins on the way in September, my chances of driving far and wide for deer appeared awfully grim, so I made a desperate tag grab for anything close to home. Luckily, it all panned out, and I may salvage part of this season.

The FWC markets Special Opportunity Hunts as the opportunity to hunt “large areas with lots of game and low hunter quotas and (that) provide excellent opportunities to bag trophy deer, wild hogs, quail, wild turkeys or doves.”

Much of this is done in conjunction with other agencies, in this case the Southwest Florida Water Management District commonly known as “SwiftMud.” You pay for the privilege to hunt here. Pay to apply, pay if you are successfully drawn and want the hunt. It is difficult to draw a tag. This is the first time I have been successful. You can apply for as many hunts as you want to help up your odds. I applied for three. Drew Lake P; am currently on the waiting list for two Green Swamp West deer hunts. One hunt I’m 353rd in line. The other, 435th. So I’m feeling pretty lucky about what I did get, especially since this hunt has a limit of 20 hunters.

But, wow, now the work starts. Lake Panasoffkee WMA is nearly 9000 acres of floodplain forest. From Google Earth you can see the land is mostly swamp and wetlands with scrub and flatwood habitat on the northern end of the property. With a large equestrian camp on the premises and being part of the Great Florida Bird Trail, I am assuming the roads and paths – 26 miles total - will be easy to travel.

The greatest trouble with hunting swamp like this is figuring where to set up. For starters, there’s no telling how much water will be standing come December. I betting not as much as there is now – and that makes scouting difficult, as well. All it takes, though, is a hurricane or tropical storm to fill up those bottoms through most of the season. Next, swamps – at least those from my experience – lack many of the funnels and edge territory that one would normally queue on when setting up a stand. Scouting from the sky doesn’t help a whole lot. Also, I’ve not found much in my research about the property.

And to top it off, it’s an archery hunt with a four-point on an antler rule. Really limiting my odds, people.

Ideally, in a swamp like this, I’d find a promising locale, hang a lock-on, and pour corn 'til it shined through the canopy. Of course, I’d probably end up with a whole lot of hogs and not many deer. And it's illegal on public land anyhow.

Hunting in the swamp is much different than hunting broken and mixed terrain. I could sit and percolate on this hunt for a while and makes desperate guesses and assumptions of how it’ll play out, but it’s just going to take shoe leather. Look for some oaks, old rub lines and trails. It's standard issue scouting, just much more difficult to know where to start.

I’ve signed up for a tough hunt, no doubt.