Whitetail Hunting Adventures

By Dragan Vujic

Whitetails are fascinating game animals. Here is a collection of deer hunting stories and pictures that have been accumulated over four decades. Some tales are joyous triumphs while others teach valuable lessons. However, every single one is a fond memory and cherished adventure. Each episode illustrates an aspect of whitetail behavior that equips the hunter with more knowledge to successfully harvest these elusive creatures on future hunts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 6, 2006
• ISBN: 9780595829316

Dragan Vujic

Dragan Vujic is a writer and an avid outdoorsman. He resides in rural southern Ontario, Canada where he enjoys a quiet, serene lifestyle. Dragan may be contacted at: [e-mail] or [e-mail].

Book preview

Books by Dragan Vujic

Canadian Whitetail Hunting

Hunting Farm Country Whitetails

Whitetail Hunting Adventures

WHITETAIL

HUNTING

ADVENTURES

Dragan Vujic

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Lincoln Shanghai

WHITETAIL HUNTING ADVENTURES

Copyright © 2006 by Dragan Vujic

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

iUniverse

2021 Pine Lake Road, Suite 100

Lincoln, NE 68512

www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-38551-5 (pbk)

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-82931-6 (ebk)

ISBN-10: 0-595-38551-6 (pbk)

ISBN-10: 0-595-82931-7 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Dedicated to my friends, Allan Cunningham and Lois Noland, farmers, for providing a whitetail hunting paradise.

Also, I would like to thank Allan for helping me drag numerous bucks out of the bush over the years.

Contents

Books by Dragan Vujic

Introduction

First Buck

Missed

Gun Shy

Click! Click!

Last Chance

Back Trail

Rufus Slyfox

Stalker

Power of the Voice

Long Shot

First Archery Hunt

Valuable Lesson

Late Winter Harvest

Bearless Bruce

Heads or Tails

Cherished Memory

Snow Buck

Time Can Be Cruel

Whitetails in Virginia

Two Suburban Bucks

Mister Unpredictable

A Terrific Party Hunt

Left Behind

So Close

Aerial Predator

Henry’s Bear

Bad Timing

Spike Bull

Tough to Kill

Twelve Points

Almost

West Virginia

Out of the Corn

Distorted Skyline

Not Dead

Thanks

White Doe

Snowstorm

Shirt Tail

Bill’s Buck

Excalibur

Neck Shot

The Licking Branch

Knock Down

Easy to Pattern, Hard to Harvest

Buck Hill

Feeding The Hungry

Deer Patterning People

Eye of the Needle

Conclusion

APPENDIX ACanadian Firearms Legislation

APPENDIX B A Note to American Readers

Introduction

Hello. My name is Dragan Vujic. Whitetail hunting is my passion. I absolutely love every aspect of every adventure. Hunting deer is a challenging endeavour and an exciting sport. The thrill of the chase and satisfaction of the kill is always a rewarding experience. However, sometimes we all have to settle for merely the thrill of the chase. Everyone misses a deer now and then, but no one likes to admit this disappointment. I am notorious for trying to avoid these embarrassing moments in conversations. Anyone who has ever hunted whitetails can appreciate the adrenalin rush that we all feel when we merely spot a nice buck. Thereafter, the sensation escalates. And when we actually harvest the deer, we all experience overwhelming exhilaration and a sense of accomplishment. Our feelings are beyond description. Words can never capture the true essence of what we really feel.

Whitetail deer are the most magnificent animals that I have ever seen and have had the privilege of hunting. They are definitely the most popular big game animals in North America. There is nothing more majestic than a big buck leaping and bounding across an open field of clover, unless he is the one that you just shot at and missed. Then, the situation takes on a very different perspective. I am sure that all of us have been flagged by a whitetail on more occasions than we care to remember or admit to. The deer has literally high-tailed it out of there.

The familiar tail goes up, the buck absconds at high speed and his tail waves good-bye to us. That is the last scenario that we see. Irrespective of our momentary frustration, hope remains that we will see this king of the wild at least one more time before the season draws to a conclusion. Grace, beauty, speed and cleverness are just a portion of the multitude of gifts that nature has bestowed upon these beasts of the wild. I still find it hard to believe that an animal as majestic as the whitetail deer is a direct descendant of the pig. Chew on that and share some thoughts

I started hunting when I was fifteen, which, at that time, was the legal hunting age in Ontario, Canada. It was in the early autumn of 1965. I remember this cherished moment extremely well. Everything is as clear as a bell. That was over forty years ago. Where has the time gone? I have had the good fortune of having had some excellent teachers and superb hunting partners along the way. I am most grateful for all of the wonderful opportunities that have come into my life. Communing with nature has always provided me with a peaceful, easy state of mind. I have experienced some of my greatest joys through hunting. A multitude of fond memories have been collected and shared.

Barry, one of my grade ten classmates, was the first to invite me to go hunting with him on a late Friday afternoon right after school in late September of 1965. I readily accepted the offer. It was such a novel adventure. In the bush, he even let me shoot his repeating twenty-two-calibre bolt-action rifle. That, in and of itself, was a most thrilling experience. It was the first time in my life that I had shot a real firearm. Even though I did not kill a rabbit that day, despite my valiant efforts, I knew that I wanted to go hunting on a regular basis more than anything else in the world. All other sports and social activities took a back seat that fateful Friday afternoon.

Within days, I wrote and passed the hunter’s test. It was a relatively simple procedure and reasonably inexpensive back then. The very next day, I bought my first hunting license. Back then, a small game hunting licence only cost one dollar. Thereafter, I convinced my father, who was not a hunter, to come with me to buy my first Cooey single shot twenty-two calibre rifle. The brand new firearm sold for twenty dollars. Although I was old enough to hunt by myself at the age of fifteen, I could not purchase a firearm on my own until I was eighteen. However, I could buy a rifle at the age of fifteen only if an adult accompanied me. The logic of that legislation was beyond me at the time. It still is.

Oh well, at least back in 1965 we did not have the crippling and crushing gun laws that we have today. Hunters and firearms owners had so much freedom and liberty back then. There seemed to be so much more respect for other people’s individual rights in the sixties. At that time, no one was attempting to impose their personal values and beliefs on some one else. There were no pious groups passing moral judgments and trying to dictate acceptable social norms.

Reluctantly, my dad agreed to assist me in this extremely important matter of buying my first rifle, but only after I had promised to do exceptionally well in school. Although I had good intentions, it turned out to be one promise that I failed to keep. We drove off to the gun store. That was one of the most exciting days in my life. The very next Friday, Barry and I went hunting once more. I actually shot my first rabbit that day. Wow! What a thrill! I must have reiterated that experience over a thousand times. I told everyone who cared to listen.

On Saturday morning, he introduced me to some of his hunting buddies, Bill, Neil, Bob and Joe. Shortly thereafter, the five of us went off hunting for the entire day. We sure shared some wonderful memories in the years that followed and we even managed to shoot a considerable number of rabbits. Hunting with a group of guys taught me some valuable lessons in life. I learned to work as member of a team, to share the game bag, to appreciate the value of an efficient hunting strategy and the need to hone certain skills. Although I already knew how to skin a variety of animals from my trapping experiences, I did learn how to field dress and butcher wild game. I was also shown what shocked meat looked like. Barry stressed the importance of ensuring that all of the shocked meat was cut out and discarded.

The hunter’s code dictates sharing your good fortune with others. Whatever you give away shall always come back to you multiplied. This is an unwritten universal law. I have always lived by this norm and I have always been lucky in my hunting pursuits. Every hunting season I enjoy a bountiful harvest. In some years, I have shot and killed so much wild game that it would have been impossible to eat all of the meat by myself. I have always given generously to the less fortunate and the needy. In turn, I have been blessed in all aspects of my life.

Realizing the limitations of the twenty-two calibre rifle, I soon purchased an old single shot Cooey twelve gauge shotgun from my uncle, who was a farmer/ hunter. That firearm cost me a grand total of ten dollars. It was certainly old, but it shot straight. Although I had shot a fair number of rabbits and groundhogs with my rim fire rifle, I knew that I needed a scatter gun to hunt partridge, pheasants, ducks and geese. Also, I could shoot big game such as deer, black bear and moose with a shotgun if I used slugs. The obvious benefits of a centre fire big bore weapon were many.

As I have stated, I initially started out hunting rabbits. Thereafter, I progressed to other small game animals including partridge, pheasants, ducks, geese and groundhogs. I am sure that most of us commenced our journey into the world of hunting in this manner. However, on the early frosty morning that I shot my first white-tailed buck, I knew that I had found my true passion in life. How big was he? Well, lets just say that he was nice eating. I will tell you later in my initial story. Since that cherished moment in November of 1966, I have harvested an abundance of whitetails. Over the decades, I have accumulated a treasure chest full of wonderful recollections and pleasant experiences related to deer hunting.

We all collect memories through the process of living. Some of our experiences in life are pleasant and others are painful. However, when it comes to hunting, every moment is exhilarating and refreshing. I do not have a single bad recollection concerning my time in the field hunting. Even on the occasions that I messed up big time and forfeited the golden opportunity to harvest a monarch buck—and there have been several—are cherished. Each hunting excursion, whether it culminated in success or failure, taught me a valuable lesson. Knowledge accumulates over time and we all become better hunters in later life.

My purpose in writing this book is to share some interesting whitetail hunting adventures with you. Although the majority of stories revolve around whitetail hunting and whitetail hunters, I have thrown in a couple of amusing black bear tales, a delineation of my one and only moose hunt and one episode involving a black Labrador retriever. I hope that you enjoy reading about them as much as I have enjoyed reliving them by putting pen to paper—or, more accurately depicted in this day and age, keyboard to computer screen.

Before moving on, I wish to state my perception of hunters. As hunters, we are all wildlife stewards, conservationists and environmentalists. Similar to farmers, we harvest what the land provides. Thereafter, we take our harvest directly to our kitchen tables. There are no intermediaries, no giant meat conglomerates and no huge supermarkets. Hunters participate in the natural food chain. There are no hormone supplements, no steroid injections and no other meat enhancing additives. Styrofoam and plastic packaging is avoided entirely. There is no unnecessary pollution of our environment. Our venison and other wild game is fresh, drug free, healthy and extremely low in fat content. Deer hunting is something that we all cherish dearly. It is a valuable heritage that is worth protecting. Stand tall for what you believe in and always voice your opinion.

If you have any stories to share, ideas to discuss or comments to make, feel free to contact me at: [e-mail]

I would be most interested in hearing from you. In the interim, enjoy reading the whitetail hunting stories that follow.

E:\DVillejo\iUniverse\FEB_2012\2.10.12\107637\images\107637_text_img_2.jpg

First Buck

In the autumn of 1966, I received the most pleasant surprise of my life. My uncle took me deer hunting with him to the Ottawa Valley. This wonderful situation came about in a rather strange manner. In the early part of November on a Saturday, I had accompanied my parents on their visit to my aunt and uncle, who lived in a small village located about seventy miles north from our town. Bringing along my shotgun and a box of four shot shells, I had planned to hunt the large bush on the Hamilton farm where my uncle, Eric, worked. The owner had given Eric and I permission to hunt there anytime. Hamilton’s forest stretched out over thirty acres and was loaded with rabbits and grouse. It was prime hunting territory for small game. However, there were no whitetails in the vicinity during the late sixties.

When we arrived at our relatives domicile, I commenced to unpack my hunting stuff, which consisted of a shotgun, a game bag and a shell belt containing twenty cartridges. In the meantime, my parents had gone inside. It was around ten o’clock in the morning. I presumed that we would have an early lunch and thereafter my uncle and I would go hunting for rabbits and grouse in the Hamilton woods. This was the original plan. Suddenly, Eric burst out of the house with a big grin on his face. He was carrying his pump shotgun, a duffle bag and a knapsack.

Hey, city slicker. How would you like to go deer hunting with me in the Ottawa Valley for a week? Care to learn what real hunting is all about from an old country boy?, Eric casually queried as he opened the trunk of his car and loaded his hunting gear inside.

Oh, yeah. I sure would. That would be terrific. But, my parents will never let me go., I answered, pausing for a moment.

Sadness crept into my heart. My parents were very strict—especially when it came to education. I knew that they would never let me take a week off school for the sake of going hunting. This appeared to be an impossible situation. However, I really wanted to go. Oh well, perhaps another time. I envisioned Eric traveling northeast by himself this late morning and late afternoon. The journey would take anywhere from six to seven hours, depending on the traffic. The following day, he would be hunting with his family and friends in Lanark County. On the other hand, I would spend the afternoon hunting small game on the Hamilton estate by myself. I would still have a great time hunting.

This was my perception of the situation at the time—pessimistic, but realistic. I was dead wrong. All of my negative thoughts proved to be false. That morning I learned a valuable lesson—never make assumptions and always verify what you think. I also learned to stay focused on the best imaginable, positive outcome because everything is possible. This was the day that something beyond my wildest dreams transpired. I experienced one of my greatest moments of joy that day.

Its already been taken care of. Grab your stuff and let’s go. We have a long drive ahead of us., Eric commented, motioning for me to put my shogun, shells and knapsack into the open trunk of his car.

What?! What?! What do you mean that its already been taken care of?, I stammered, disbelieving my ears.

You heard me. Your dad and mom said that you can come with me. Now, stick your stuff in my trunk. Then, go inside, say hello to my wife and kids and hurry back out here. We have a long journey ahead of us and I’m anxious to get going, confirmed Eric, seeing the excitement in my eyes.

To this day, I do not know how he talked my parents into letting me take a week off school and go hunting with him. But, in addition to being excited and overjoyed, I certainly was grateful. After I placed my hunting gear into the trunk of his car, I went inside. I hugged my aunt and the three children. It was always a pleasure to see her and her cute, little guys. Then, I noticed my parents looking at me with stern eyes and I clearly heard the ‘what we expect from you in return’ speech. Thereafter, I did indeed receive permission to go. That day, I thought that I had experienced a miracle.

Of course, I had to promise things that I would never have voluntarily consented to under normal circumstances. However, these were not normal circumstances. Back then, I would have sold my soul to go deer hunting. This unexpected opportunity was shaping up to be an adventure that I would always remember. Whitetail hunting was something that I had only dreamed of. It was a faraway dream. I never even hoped that I would experience the reality of a deer hunt so soon. As we drove away, I thanked my uncle repeatedly. Eric just smiled and said:

Glad to have you along. I would have gone last week, but I couldn’t get that week off work. Last week is when everyone else went and they all shot deer. But, the Ottawa Valley is loaded with deer. There are always enough for everyone and lots left over. I’m sure that we will both shoot a buck in the following week. You and I will be the only ones hunting on my dad’s farm this week. The regular gang hunted the first week. We will hunt the second and last week. That’s okay. We will still have a lot of fun. There is nothing as enjoyable as deer hunting. Hey, you got any money? You’ll have to buy a deer licence and a box of slugs.

I’ve got twenty dollars. Is that enough?, I responded, wondering how much a deer licence would cost.

Yup, that will do., replied Eric, pulling into the parking lot of a hardware store in the nearby town.

Inside, I walked up to the counter and made my request. The clerk asked to see my small game hunting licence and then proceeded to transfer the relevant information onto to the deer licence. This was a relatively large purchase since the combined deer and bear licence cost ten dollars. My annual small game licence only cost a dollar and the federal migratory bird licence for ducks and geese only cost two dollars. I asked my uncle how many slugs I should purchase. He replied that one box of five slugs would be enough. After seeing the puzzled look on my face, he told me not to worry. Hunting deer was not like hunting rabbits. We would not see that many on a frequent basis. Besides, we could only shoot one apiece. Legally, we could shoot two whitetails between us, but Eric wanted to shoot his own buck. He correctly assumed that I also would like to harvest my own deer.

This was my first trip to the Ottawa Valley where my aunt and uncle had met and married. My aunt had worked there as a public school teacher and Eric had worked in the local sawmill. He was a native of the area, whereas my aunt was a new arrival who came there for her first teaching position. Approximately three years ago, the implementation of some provincial government policies had an adverse ripple effect in a few of the economic sectors in that region. The consolidation of the country public schools led to the closure of the school where my aunt had taught, which left her without employment. Shortly thereafter, the sawmill shut down and Eric also found himself looking for work. After a year had elapsed, my aunt found a teaching position in our neck of the woods. So, they loaded up their entire belonging on the back of a pickup truck, grabbed the three kids and relocated. Fortunately, Eric was able to secure employment on a nearby farm. I had met my uncle by marriage for the first time two years ago. He was the only one of my relatives that hunted. We immediately found common ground.

Eric did not say much as we drove for approximately another two hours. Then, we stopped at a roadside restaurant. The menu consisted of typical fast food stuff. We both had French fries, a burger and a garden salad. In addition, I had a slice of apple pie and a glass of milk. Impatiently, I waited for my uncle to finish his coffee and cigarette. At the time, I did not smoke and I did not think that I would ever start. Little did I know that I would indeed commence smoking within the next two years and carry this addiction for the next thirty-five years. In my early fifties, I reverted back to being a non-smoker. I guess none of us know what lies ahead on the life path that we choose to follow. Eric butted out his cigarette, paid for the meal, tipped the waitress and we left. For the next six hours we proceeded in a north-easterly direction. In this part of the trip, I received an education in whitetail hunting. The following is a reproduction of what I recall hearing from my uncle on that cool November afternoon.

"No matter what you have hunted before, deer hunting is a brand new game. Everything happens in a brand new playing field with a whole new set of rules. Whitetails are the most intelligent and the most elusive game animals that you will ever hunt. They are the silent grey ghosts of the forest. Deer have the uncanny ability to vanish into their environment. They blend very well into the background of their surroundings. You will look and not see anything. You will look and they are not there. You will look again and there they are. They seem to appear out of nowhere. And, they disappear just as quickly. Deer will hear you and smell you before they see you. In the daytime, they cannot see as clearly as we can. But, they have excellent night vision and can see very well in the dark and in dim light. Also, they can detect motion in a split second. Whitetails can smell a thousand times better than we can. So, be aware of which way the wind is blowing. If they scent you, they are gone. Deer can also hear better than we can. The trick is to find a spot where the wind is in your face and sit there quietly, without moving.

The twilight hours are the best times to hunt deer. That is when they are the most active. We will sit and wait for them to come out along the edges of the forest and along active trails for about two hours in the morning and two hours at night. I will put you in some good spots. But, you have to sit still and not make any noise. During the day, we will walk through the bush and hope to spook them. Deer bed down during the afternoon. That is when they dose. The best place to shoot any whitetail is through both lungs. This is your biggest and best target area. Any deer shot through both lungs will usually drop within a hundred yards.

You will probably only get one shot. After that, hit or miss, the buck is gone. You won’t get a second shot. So, relax take your time and make the first one count. I know that this is easier said than done. There are no second chances in this game. You will probably never see the same buck again for the rest of the season. He has made you and will likely anticipate your presence in that area. Deer are shy and have a natural fear of people. In other words, you won’t receive another opportunity to shoot at that buck again. The trick is to stay calm, slowly set the bead on him and gently squeeze the trigger. I know that this is easier said than done. Since this is your first time out, it will be very hard not to get excited when you see a deer. This I know. But, if you try to shoot too fast, you will either jerk or pull the trigger. This will throw your aim off and you will definitely miss. So, take your time and shoot straight.

Here is the most important thing to remember. When you shoot and hit a buck, he will run like hell. It doesn’t matter where you shoot him—through the heart or through the lungs—he will still run. The only time that a deer will not run is when you sever his backbone or neck vertebrae. So, don’t panic. Know that even if your aim is true, the buck will run. Keep in mind that four legs can run faster than two. So, don’t go running after him. Instead, take a few minutes to relax and reload your shotgun. I’d say sit down and have a smoke, but you don’t smoke—at least not yet. So, just stay where you are for a bit. Five to ten minutes is a good waiting period. Twenty minutes is better.

If you leave a whitetail alone after you shoot him, he will likely lie down, stiffen and die. Once a deer starts to stiffen up, he is hesitant to get up again. On the other hand, if you chase him, he may run for a considerable distance before he drops. The further he runs, the less likely that you will find him. Distance favours the deer.

Then, go to the spot where you first shot the whitetail and look for evidence of a hit. Blood is good evidence. If the wounded whitetail leaves a blood trail, follow it slowly and cautiously. In most cases, you will find the buck dead within a hundred yards of where you shot him. Examine the colour and composition of the blood. Pink blood with air bubbles in it indicates a lung shot. Bright red blood comes from the heart or a severed main artery. Brownish red blood means that the slug ruptured the liver. Now, if you observe chunks of green, undigested food pieces mixed in with the blood and the blood has a putrid smell to it, stop where you are. This is bad news. It means that you gut shot the whitetail. In this case, we may have to wait a day before tracking him. The timber wolves, lynx and black bears may catch the scent of blood and may find the whitetail before we do. Should this occur, all that we will find is a pile of bones and pieces of hide. If I hear you shoot, I will come over to help you look for the deer. If you hear me shoot, stay where you are, I will come and get you.

Unlike people, whitetails around here only have about a two-month breeding season. It is called the rut. They go through a set mating ritual. But, all you have to know is that the bucks are chasing the does at this time of year. So, if you see a doe emerge from the woods, don’t get all excited and start shooting. Wait a few minutes. There may be a buck following her and he may come out shortly. The does are still feeding, but the bucks have lost interest in food and their sole interest is copulation. In a nutshell, the does will usually come out first and the bucks will come out later. That’s about all I have to say. If I think of anything else that is important, I’ll tell you when I remember.

Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. There are only two types of bucks—wall hangers and good eating. The wall hangers are three and a half year old or older bucks that have large racks containing eight or more points. These are the ones that are professionally mounted by taxidermists and hung on your wall. They are usually tough and not very tasty. On the other hand, the good eating bucks are two and a half years or younger and are very good to eat. They do not have impressive sets of antlers, but the meat is tender. These racks you just saw off and hang in your garage. Never throw away a set of antlers. Each rack has a story behind it and a pleasant memory. If