I wrote another story for Maryland Bowhunters Society's
newsletter, Rubs & Scrapes. If you bowhunt in Maryland, you
should really consider signing up. http://www.marylandbowhunterssociety.org/JoinTheMBS.html

They are Maryland's Bowhunter's Voice.

Anyways, here is my story.

The Story:

My Place

February 3, 1996

     Walking the trail to my tree on that October day, as the sun found its way through the leaves above, with my climber weighted on my back I saw a 6-point drinking from a puddle ahead.  As I took a knee to lower my outline it was too late.  With a few leaps it was gone from my view.  I continued on and broke off the trail and made my way to the creek where I followed it upstream to one of my trees.  Climbing up I noticed how the leaves were beginning to change, and what a view I was climbing up to.  Sitting 25' above with bow in hand looking upstream I sat and thought.  You do a lot of that while hunting.  You think of your problems.  You think about work, or what you have to have accomplished, or maybe you even think about where the deer are. But mostly if you are like me, you just think about where you are at that moment.  There is unbelievable beauty all around us,that most people never see.  I see that beauty everywhere I go.  Just turn your head, and there it is.

     As the sun was sinking down through the trees, I noticed a few jittery does coming down a trail on the other side of the creek to get a drink.  The mother was on watch while the two fawns goofed around.  There was no shot to take so I just watched as they went back up to a thicket above.  Later a 4-point came down the same trail, and crossed toward me, and stopped 5 feet off my tree.  It was a yearling, and I was looking for something bigger that day, so my patience helped me hold off, and watch as it winded me, and took two jumps across the creek, and went back up the hill.  At days end, I climbed down the tree, and made my way through the darkening woods back to my truck.  I thought back of some earlier days squirrel hunting with my dad in the Pennsylvania woods when I was a kid.  He passed away in ‘93.  I don’t think I’ve ever made a trip into the woods without thinking about him.  I’ve been able to keep a vision of him in my mind of one particular grouse hunt.  I remember looking over at him as he moved through the trees.  He made his way so smooth, the way wind blows around a branch.  Maybe that day has stayed so clear to me because I shot my first grouse with him that day.  Or maybe God was just giving me a gift that I would need later in life.           I miss him bad.

     My first days in the hunting woods came when I was about 8 years old or so, walking behind my dad.  I didn’t understand too much about hunting then, except that this is where dad went when he left the house to go hunting.  I learned early on that you “had to stop walking so loud” as he put it.  “ You’re  gonna  scare everything off within earshot ”.  It took me a while, but I walk pretty quietly now. 

     I walk pretty quietly to my place.  It’s sometimes hard to find.  But usually not.  It’s a place way off the beaten path.  Walk up that drainage, pass through some dark pines.  “There’s the tree where that 8 point busted me that year.  That was a good year.  Get up on top, and walk the edge of that thicket.  Walk down through another drainage, and there’s a lone oak tree.  After you’ve climbed up and gotten situated, you hear the creek running down below.

The place is Colorado now, in the Rocky Mountains.  I’ve been west before, but this trip will be different.  Our tent is situated in the bottom of a canyon along side a drainage called Beaver Creek.  The landscape is too much for me to get over.  I can’t stop looking around with the amazement that I am actually here again.  It is just too beautiful to believe.  Golden brown slopes edged with dark green timber and quakey patches.  Its day 3 now, and my partner and I have spent the day packing out his Bull Elk.  By 2:00 I finally make my way to the water hole for the evening hunt.  The sun is blasting me in the face as I wait.  I’m startled by a small heard of elk cows that sneak up behind me.  They get with-in 50 yards, when a young Bull busts me, and with a warning they all bolt like a locomotive.  A young mule deer later comes out from my right and puts his head down in the hole to drink.  If I shoot him, I may blow the real opportunity, so I pass and watch him disappear back into the timber.  The sun is almost down to the tree line when it “starts”.  A herd of cows and 2 young bulls make their way to the water hole.  My heart is starting to beat faster now.  Then I hear it.  A mature bull screams.  Can’t see him yet, but the hair on the back of my neck just stood up.  Then suddenly I see him, the sun beam lights up his horns as he slips out of the darkness in front of me as if to say, “Look at me all big and bad”.  My heart is pounding like a jack hammer.  Can’t stop shaking.  Get a grip, breath, you have to calm down.  I take the shot, and it makes the trip.  The bull runs about 75 yards and drops.  The dust is flying.  I sit there for a few minutes, and it hits me.  I just shot my 1^st Rocky Mountain Bull.  Walking over to it with each step, the intensity builds.  This is unreal.  It can’t be true.  I stand over it looking.  Getting very weak in the knees I bend down to hold the rack.  I’ve never felt this much emotion in my life.  My eyes are full of puddles that run down my cheek.  I say the prayer, “Dear God forgive me for killing this creature of yours, and thank you for the opportunity, and skill to do so., Amen”.   I wish I could tell my dad about it, but I know he was watching.

Sometimes you need waders to get to my place.  The walk may be flat but it’s no easy task.  The first half mile is on a tram road.  Turn left at the trail for 75 yards, and then cross the knee high black ditch into the frag. The musty smell of that black water is unforgettable.  With a gear-loaded treestand on my back, a loaded hip-pack, a bow in one hand, and a flashlight in the other I push through the 8' tall frag and new growth pines stopping a lot to check my compos.  It’s a sweaty hot walk that cannot be done easily but this day’s hunt will be one of my top hunts.  A small mystical creature roams these woods, the Maryland Sika Deer.  I have not yet harvested one yet but that doesn’t deter me.  Mid afternoon I stood at attention watching a group of them slowly coming my way.  I am standing holding my bow ready to draw. Closer they get. Heart rate increasing all the while.  The shot was high, and I realized I was out of breath and my knees could barley hold me up so I sit down and  gaze up at the passing clouds through the pine needles.  What a rush. That was my 2^nd miss.  At the end of this day I missed 3 different stags.  On the long walk out in darkness I was not mad, or upset for missing but thankful for the day’s events and still high on the adrenaline rush. The following year I do get my first, and a few more in the years to follow.

In all the years that have passed since I typed the first words in this story in 1996 my weapon of choice has been a compound bow.  3 Different ones to be exact.  I have recently started hunting with more traditional equipment, a long bow and have found success.  Which is where this chapter in my life and this story ends.  But the ghosts and memories of hunts passed will always be with me as I walk into “My Place”.

Eric Bonner 2012

                                          

Authors Note: This writing has been an ongoing project since 1996 when I was 30 and added to here and there.

 

Sharing A Hunt

I took young friend Cody Lederer on a bowhunt today.  Cody showed up at my house right on time at 5:00 am. We went to one of my back-yard spots.  I put him in the tree where I filmed the "A Day In The Rut" video installment 2 years ago and put myself about 75 yards away in another good tree. It was a slow morning, and Cody is young and is not used to staying in the woods much past 9:00.  I was hoping for some good regular action today, and at 8:30 I text-ed him that it normally does not get going until around 9:00.  At 9:45 not much had happened other than 1 lone 4-point walk-by, and we agreed to sit until 11:01.  Not long after 10:00, 5 does came up behind Cody, and gave him a good show.  He took a shot at one of the larger does, and made a great hit on her.  After hearing his shot, the deer ran right past me.  I got a text from him that he hit a nice doe real good and that he thought it had laid down.  After a bit more surveillance of the woods, I realized that  his deer was laying behind me at about 50 yards.  I guess with all the commotion of the other deer, I had not saw his doe crash down.  We climbed down and met at his deer.

Cody has already spent a few days in the woods and has found success so a lesson in field-dressing was not necessary.

Congratulations Cody.  It was a pleasure sharing a hunt with you, and I look forward to the next.
Note to Steve and Debbie: "You Raised A Good and Respectful Kid Here."

Rain-Storm

Maryland's early season muzzleloader season is in for 3 days, but as I am a bowhunter I carry my bow.  Usually I hunt my back-yard/bowhunting only spots during the gun seasons.  I got off a bit early this Friday and where I was located at put me at a spot where the house is for sale, and not being lived in.  As I pulled up I saw the groundskeeper blowing leaves in the front yard.  Uh Oh I think, might have to go somewhere else.  So I back up the driveway, get out of my truck, and take a glance into the woods below the yard, and BOOM.

I see this buck bedded down 50 yards from me.  I grab my camera and steel a few pictures, and realize this is the buck that I passed a few weeks ago.  He is an 8, thin, with shorts tines, but dang he looks wider today.  So I approach the groundskeeper, and ask him if he will be working in the back of the house, and pleasantly he says "no not today".  Awesome, so I show him the buck and he is like " Holey Crap"  "Thats Awesome".  So we chat for a bit, and I proceed to get my stuff and walk down into the woods.  It was unusually warm, so I only wore a t-shirt figuring it was not going to get cold.  I climbed up in a triple poplar tree set and got ready.  It was looking like a beautiful fall day and 70 degree's.

Not long after I started hearing ( overtop of the groundskeeper blowing leaves ) what I thought was rain.  So I looked up the radar and there was a very small system headed my way.  I could only hope that it would hold off until dark.  30 minutes later it started raining a bit harder.


..............Back-Track Note.  When I loaded my pack, I took the "Tree-Brella" out, and threw it into my bin thinking It was not needed.  

So now it starts raining.  Uh Oh. I look at the radar again and it still looks like a small cell, but there is yellow/red in the middle and it is heading for me.  But it's small so I am thinking I will get wet, but it won't last long.  Well after 2 downpours, black clouds, cold winds, and the start of lightning I elected to climb down. Soaking wet I got back to my truck, changed and turned on the heat.  Now the radar looks like this.

You can see where I am at, I am soaked and it has just gotten started. It does not look good.

Great I think.  I decide to head home and dry everything out to prepare for Saturday morning's hunt.  On the ride home I saw some evil, and wild looking clouds.  This first one is looking at where I was at approx. 5 miles away.  Never the less, things are starting to heat up and the fun is near.

A Friends Newfoundland Moose

Good friend of mine John Delozier recently went on a Moose hunt in Newfoundland and scored on a nice Bull Moose.  John has invited me down bowfishing Cownose Rays many times and has hunted on many exotic hunts. He e-mailed me the following account with some pictures, and gave me the OK to post it here. Congratulations John, sounds like it was a fun and exhausting hunt packing out all that meat.

We got flown into camp a day early and was the LAST flight of the day. So Saturday we got in and set up. No hunting on Sunday so we just relaxed and caught up on sleep after the long drive.

Sunday, NO FLIGHTS, so last hunter did not get in or any other hunters at any camps.

Monday morning, WOW fog, wind sideways rain and warm before the sun came up. We drew the straw to walk up the mountain behind camp. Up we started, before we reached the top we were covered in sweat. Soon as we hit the opening out of the woods into the first bog a moose spins in the bush and takes off 50 yards away. We make our way about 1600 yards to the high spot overlooking a vast area. Wind blowing and rain storms coming up the whole time. We are now wet on the inside, temps drop every time the storms would roll in. Wind is blowing so bad you can’t hide behind a boulder big enough to get out of the wind and rain. We are COLD and hating life. But it did not take lion g before we started calling out moose in the bottom. From 400 yards to a mile or two away. At one time we had 6 moose with in stalking distance. But at this time only BIG bull we saw was out of hunting range.

We spent the morning glassing moose till about 11. We had one cow come up to about 40 yards from us.

From 11 till 2 things were slow. About 3 we started seeing them move and the weather had cleared up and stopped raining but the wind was still bad. About 330 I saw what appeared like a NICE moose come over the mountain top into our draw about 2000 yards away. We took off to cut the distance. 900 yards later we got set up hoping for him to come out about 600 yards in front of us. After awhile I saw him cutting the top of the timber and not following our plan for him. Off we went running again. We set up on him and saw him again at 700 yards. I chose not to shoot. We took off again. Got to about 400 yards of where he came out, I could not get steady for the shot. Moose kept moving and off we went again running in the bog for the hopes to catch him at the next opening. We got set up and out he stepped like clockwork. About 340 yards away, lined up the cross hairs and squeezed. Bang, thump, flop down he went.

 We got up to him, he was not as big as I would have liked for this hunt but we had a great time, a great stalk and a clean kill. Also I thought would be an easy pack out, First trip I was wrong, second trip was a lot better when we found the trail.

 We started on mine and heard another shot. The last of our hunters in camp flew in about 1130. We watched them fly over us, no way would I have wished to be in that plane . We watched it drop and hit air pockets. So he landed at 1130 and had his moose at 430.

 So we got mine quartered up and in bags. Tossed the hams on our backs and started down the mountain hoping to hit the trail. WRONG, we were too far south, no trail. Long fight later we hit another trail 3 minutes from camp. THANK GOD.

 Tuesday morning we went up and got the shoulders and back straps of my moose, then went in with other guide to pack his moose out, the one shot at 430.  Rest of Tuesday was relax time. Tuesday night we went to pick Brian up, we spotted a bull on the way from the boat, we could not get on him that night but they made a game plan for the morning. Tuesday dark came and no Al. Right after dark we reached them on the radio, they had come down off the top of the mountain an hour or so before dark. Right as they reached an easy walk to the boat Big boy stood up where they had just left. Off they went to see if they could get to him before dark. Back up the mountain. They made it to within few 100 yards and Al shot him off hand. Now the rush was on, get him quarter and out of the bush before dark.

 They failed, got him quartered and laid out to cool but darkness beat them to the boat. I think Al said he stepped in 7 holes and fell 5 times on the way out, He was beat and tired when they made it into camp.

Wednesday morning it took the 4 of us over an hour to hike into Al’s moose. It was a hike and a half. We skinned it out and packed our pack frames for the hike out, think we got back to the boat about 1030.

 If I recall the times right, about 11:00 Brian called in that he had a moose down. We told them we would grab lunch then come in and help them pack it out. About 12 we called Brian, they said the just got to his moose. “Say What” been over an hour, we were worried. Well about 2 we headed in to find them, they were in a new area no one knew for sure where they were. We hike in and can’t find them. After a bit we hear something and look up the mountain and there is a white postal stamp waving in the air. First thing my guide says is “we are hunting Moose not mountain goats”.

 We fight our way to them, his moose had flipped down and falling into a hole of brush. They had to fight for everything they got or did to get him cut up. We helped, well two of us sat on the mountain and watched, there was not room for any more people in their hole. We got loaded up and packed out hour or so later.

I had a great time and enjoyed being part of everyone’s hunt even if it was just packing them out, I saw moose EVERYDAY.

Decisions Decisions

I have to face facts.  I shoot my lighter recurve better than I shoot the heavier longbow.  And after making a good lethal shot on Fridays deer I decided to pull the longbow out of this years line-up and carry the Bear Grizzly on my trad hunts.  So I switched arrow quivers since the one I bought for the recurve is a piece of crap and only hold 3 arrows. It actually hold 4, but the 4th one keeps the tip guard in place.

So I installed the other quiver, re-fletched the arrow that I shot Friday night and loaded the sticks complete with one small game head and lighted nocks.  I have not attempted a squirrel shot yet.  Might have to change that.

The recurve is loaded and ready.

Another Trad Kill

The Farmer started cutting the corn Friday on one of my properties, so I figured I would hunt the new stand I set up there.  It was a beautiful calm evening, but I was surprised and happy to see that half of the corn was still standing when I got there after work.

 I was carrying the recurve this hunt, and seen a few deer munching still on acorns close by.  I had a button buck walk right in front of me early on.  Within the hour there were 3 more does that had came in below from the corn.  One medium size and two fawns.  My view directly in front was covered by some new growth maple trees, and at one point I had the larger of the 3 does 5 yards from my tree with a softball size window to shoot at so I passed.  But this was definitely a doe.  As it made its way around the large Oak in front of me I positioned the video camera to capture the "hopeful" shot at 10 yards. 

I drew back on her quartering away and released.  I had a pass-through but it was a bit farther back than I wanted but she was quartered away so I figured lungs.  The video shows her walking just off screen as the arrow hits the mark.

I waited about an hour and climbed down and found good blood right away.  10 minutes into the trailing I bumped her into the bean field.  I checked the weather forcast and it was calling for temps to be in the 40's over night so I decided to come back the next day.
When I got home and reviewed the footage I realized that somehow the doe that I was watching below me turned into a button buck as it came around the Oak tree.  The next morning after it got light, I found "Him" after a 75 yd track across a bean field into a hedgerow.  Rathered it would have been a doe, but never the less this is my 3rd trad kill, and the first with my new Bear Grizzly.