Courtesy of the author
Today is a good day because I can look forward to about two months of uninterrupted deer hunting. I enjoy it more than any other outdoor activity. In fact, deer hunting is more of an obsession than a pastime.
I killed my first deer more than fifty years ago and still manage to harvest three or four a season, which I share with others. However, I’ve slowed down with age, Sadly, the spirit is willing, but the flesh has become weak, and I have had to adjust my hunting technique.
That in itself is not a problem. The problem is that no matter how I hunt, the deer spirits humiliate me with seemingly endless “Terry moments,” as Carol calls them.
For many years, my favorite way to hunt was to strap on my chest waders and slip into Dugdemona swamp when the water was high. The ridges between sloughs remained dry, and deer would head to them to escape pursuing hounds. Few people were willing to expend so much energy to hunt, so I usually had the swamp to myself.
It was true stalking. No feeders or rice bran, and no sitting in a comfortable, heated stand. It was me in the deer’s living room using my hunting skills to spot them before they saw me.
Unfortunately, wading through murky water where you can’t see cypress knees, logs, and other obstacles is an accident waiting to happen.
More times than I’d like to admit, I would ease into a slough only to have my feet slip out from under me on a steep slope. Wallowing and thrashing in the mud and water like a fat hog, I would desperately try to grab a cypress knee or root to keep from sliding all the way under. Sometimes I was successful; sometimes I wasn’t.
My biggest surprise came one bitterly cold day when I was wading in shin-deep water. I was making my way around a large oak tree that had fallen over when suddenly I stepped off into a watery abyss. Trees may not make a sound when they fall in the forest and no one’s around, but the root ball sure does leave a big hole.
I plunged up to my armpits and icy water poured into my waders. I managed to crawl out, but I was frozen over like a giant Popsicle by the time I got back to the truck and had to crack the layer of ice on my coat in order to take it off.
Eventually, I bought a pirogue and used it to navigate the backwater. It’s easier than wading but has its own dangers.
My worst pirogue hunting moment occurred a couple of years ago when I encountered a tree top blocking my path as I was making my way up Dugdemona. I tried to cut a trail through it but finally gave up in frustration.
It was only after backing out of the top that I realized my shotgun was gone. Apparently, a limb worked its way under the gun and managed to jerk it out of the rack on the gunwale. I keep a large magnet in the boat for just such emergencies, and lowered it on a rope to probe the top. Eventually, the magnet got hung up on a limb and broke off. Then I went home.
Months later when the water had gone down, I returned to the scene and found my thoroughly rusted Mossberg lying in the mud. It was unsalvageable so I just stuck it in the bank as a memorial. It was still there the last time I passed by.
I still like to hunt in a pirogue but it can get awfully cold and my aging body can’t sit in it as long as I used to. So, a few years ago I put up some box stands so I could hunt more comfortably.
One particularly cold morning, I packed my propane heater and brought a pair of arctic boots to keep my feet warm.
I slipped into the boots, fired up the heater, and settled in. An hour or so later, I was sipping coffee when I noticed a strange odor. A second later I realized that my boots were on fire!
The arctic boots were bulky and I did not realize I had shifted them too close to the heater. Flames were licking up my leg, but I managed to kick them off and throw them outside before suffering any burns.
Flooding during the last few years have prevented me from hunting much out of my box stands, so now I spend a lot of time sitting in my truck watching a pipeline or clear cut. What could possibly go wrong?
Dr. Terry L. Jones is professor emeritus of history at the University of Louisiana at Monroe who has received numerous awards for his books and outdoor articles.
