While most of you probably know already this is not a story about currency or concerts nor is it a typo in how I sometimes describe band.
For the record I love my musically and artistically superior friends and relatives. Although it is not a push to accomplish that goal. I set the achievement line to that task extremely low. I am blessed to have talented relatives and friends, who make it their profession and I am proud to say extremely successful.
Back to the Buck’n Band.
Opening weekend of the 2024 Gun Deer season was approaching quickly. All the excitement of Wisconsin’s Gun season still sends adrenalin throughout my body. Alex my son has the same energy. He spearheaded all the pregame starting in the spring with food plots, planning, clearing, planting all the things that make the passion a year-round hobby.
We have trail cameras strategically placed on all the property and have a pretty good idea of what local bucks live on our property and shredded our bean fields to 3-inch spikes of beanless stubble leaving them worthless for late season hunting.
The 2024 season has already been good to Alex, filling a bow tag early on a brut of a buck that I was fortunate enough to be along with him and a pack of his friends to locate the beast under the Beldenville, Wisconsin stars fewer than 100 yards from where he met an arrow.
Walking back from an afternoon sit Alex chose our northern property and I chose the southern property. Unusual as we usually sit on the same properties but work and distance to each sent us in different directions. My sit was quiet with only a coyote howling in the distance and one lost small racked 6 cruising by my stand. My walk back to the truck was long and dark about 1 mile and I am no sprinter so it was going to take a while. Alex had texted me during our hunt saying he was covered up with small bucks and does but just had a good buck skirt the food plot and not commit. The text seemed like he was dissappointed, I quickly texted back “he might come back”.
I usually hear from him immediately after he thinks I should be down from a tree. The only exception is when he is covered up and cannot move. I spent 45 minutes waiting for him one evening with him “trapped in his stand” unwilling to spook the good bucks in the plot but not able to shoot because the shooting hours had passed.
With his previous text I figured it happened again and started my march back to the truck. I was catching my breath near the culvert where we have an ongoing battle with the local beavers and my phone rang. It was Alex. Before he could say anything, I said I am down and on my way to the truck. He said. “I hit a good one! Meet me at Grandma and Grandpas and we will go after it.”
Alex also filled his Montana tag on a nice whitetail less than 1 mile from the Canadian Border. Another story coming on that one.
2024 had been a very good year for Alex so far.
We were all set for opening day. Alex insisted I choose my stand first. We both went to our usual opening day stands that usually produce open tags.
I chose the stand I had issue with finding on a previous opening morning and sent me careening down the hill toward the creek like an orange beach ball bouncing off trees and rocks and sticks and just about anything else that could make it unpleasant. In an effort to avoid that situation Alex now with free time since his bow tag was full. Took it upon himself to re- secured the ladder stand and also marked a trail any blind man could find to make my trip over the hill to the bottoms less adventurous. Then he sent me a video on top of it. Just to make sure I knew what to look for.
We were ready. The morning came fast, and the weather surprised me as I stepped outside and onto the driveway. Warmer than expected m id 30’s No snow, no hard breeze. It was light and warm, not cold and brittle. The direction was perfect. A smile reflected back at me on from the window in the sheds door. The truck was preloaded, the roads were clean clear and traffic free.
Alex was waiting for me in his truck. Alex is punctual and I was even pretty close to early. I could see the surprise and excitement in his eyes. We checked with each other and went to our stands. Still very dark and we both had some land to cover. Alex had much further to travel, over a mile. He used his electric bike and made it quickly and quietly to his stand a good 20 minutes before I placed one foot on the ladder of my stand.
A note, things look way different in the dark no matter how well marked they are and even if you had a video to support the markings.
I walked the trail that was supposed to lead to the marked path over the hill and to the ladder stand. At a stratgicallhy selected spot on my journey I attached a cotton scent holder and dipped it in doe scent. We were still experiencing some chasing I thought it was worth the effort. I attached the other end of the 15 foot string to my belt loop and let it drag behind me on my journey.
A beautiful morning the ground was quiet only the brittle bean stalks crunched as I crossed the field to the path that would lead me to the well marked turn off to get me over the steep hill. I was feeling good about the morning it was perfect, I checked the wind again , awesome light but enough to move my scent away. I heard snow geese squaking high in the pitch black sky. A sound we normally do no hear. My mind drifted a bit thinking of some awesome hunts we had on snow geese in South Dakota and Missouri. I promptly walked right by the turn signal and ended 200 yards past the turn here sign. Kind of like missing the last exit to Hudson and ending up in Minnesota. You can only turn around and try again.
I decided not to panic or get upset for missing the markers at least I was getting my steps in and leaving a little more scent. It might be a little lighter for the tirp over the hill and though the thick bursh.
I finally found the markings and made the trip down the hill as the woods began to lighten up. I dropped the scent line about 25 yards from my stand in an opening I could easily see.
I settled in and finally got to my phone I had already got confirmation from Alex he was in. I quickly reported back “ me too ,all settled in”.
What a beautiful morning. The light breeze pushed my scent across a pond and away from 90 percent of the predicted traffic pattern.
The stand was one of our oldest. The original seat pad was long gone and now consisted two seat cushions from one of Sheila’s pool chairs she has yet to officially miss. It was comfortable. Located on the shady side of the sunrise with the Trimbelle Trout stream winding just 40 yards giving way to a willow swamp, making the frequently used bedding area in full view. Alex was located one half to ¾ miles down creek where it starts to meet the Mississippi a flat with a natural pinch point as bucks run their scrape lines and try and hide their does.
We were ready. I did not let Alex know I took the long way down just let him know the trail marking were great. And they were, if I was bright enough to find them right away.
I remember to shut off my headlamp, a minor victory in a small list of victories so far this morning. I chose to not let it bother me when I messed things up a bit. Just be happy to be out and able to do it without a long list of restrictions as I had faced last year. Another story “Duck Hunting Saved My Life” will be posted when I get the courage to write it. Thanks to my good friends Brian and Todd who got me to the hospital and my wife and family who drove all night at moment notice to Devils Lake ND to be there for me. Also a thank you to the Emergency Room DRs and nurses who diagnosed the heart issues and started me on the road back to this tree stand.
The view from the stand was spectacular the music of snow geese migrating , the honkers waking up and leaving the roost was soothing.
This winter we trapped 16 beavers that were messing with the culverts and raising the water level in our duck ponds to where it was not huntable.
The beavers got the message and moved up creek and sent us a peace offering creating a new pond in the middle of the swamp. A perfectly beautiful Mallard haven. I watched as 100’s of big non local mallards dove into the new pond just 600 yards from my tree stand. The constant calling of the mallards to the flying mallards was so loud it was impossible to nap. What a show. Just when it getting a bit quiet a flock of 30 teal whistle past my stand like fighter jets in a flyover at Lambeau field and it sound just about as loud. It startled me and I smiled as they splashed in without a circle for clearance. I could hear and see the water erupt as their 60 feet touched in.
Alex text me and said wow those ducks are loud. See any deer? I almost forgot to look I was so mesmerized by the waterfowl show. Not yet I answered but these noisy ducks are not going to let me nap.
I looked at the time on my phone pushing 8 am already. I had been in my stand for over an hour and it seemed like seconds. I was glassing the pond admiring the buildup of green heads glistening in the morning sun and watching the additional flocks circle the pond looking for danger and in this case looking for an open piece of water to touch down which was becoming increasingly difficult for them.
Another text from Alex “Nothing here.” You see anything yet. “Zip” I replied and set my phone down. I picked up my binoculars to admire the ducks again and I saw movement in the willows across the creek. A brown blob heading up creek towards the duck pond probably annoyed but the racket. I quickly turned my binoculars on the blob and found a deer moving in toward me still about 100 yards out. No noticeable rack so I was less than interested but it was a start. I set the binculars next to me turned my head to where my gun was hanging to make sure I could reach it. All good.
Sitting still is not a strong point of my hunting skill set. Probably why it has been 25 plus years since I filled an opening day gun tag. My oldest daughter was still in a crib and it had been 17 years since I filled a gun tag. Alex did not have his hunting license yet. The next 25 years we will call it a well-planned cold streak, funny how your priority changes when you are mentoring a young hunter. I would not change a thing. As I push into my 60’s and recover from my health scare I really feel the mentoring coming back from Alex and his cousin Ryan who I was thrilled to hunt with as they grew up and took on the love for the sport and exceled at it. That a long with the steady improvement of the quality of deer in our woods and selective hunting made the streak unnoticeable. Seeing and having opportunities to harvest and choosing not too is sometimes just as rewarding.
I was not optimistic on my chances as I sat there looking at the hillside and the swamp. I knew a smile was on my face and a relaxed energy was drifting through my body. I was just about ready to text back to Alex that I finally saw a deer but it would not leave so I sat still.
The leaves were damp with morning dew making the woods quiet underfoot even for the squirrels. Movement in the woods would have to be the trigger for attention. I would put that on one of my lower strengths “noticing movement.” But because of the duck show my head was up and looking around and not focused on the cell phone.
A big doe appeared on the hillside between the noisy duck pond and my marked and scent trail over the hill. I lost sight of the first deer to in the swamp to my left and focused on the deer ahead and slightly to the right of me about halfway up the hill that previously sent me bouncing to my a resting place at the foot of the hill. Another deer appeared behind her nose down. That could be a buck I thought. They were coming my way and getting in range. I slowly looked to my left and the deer from the swamp was watching them closely. I reached for my gun and secured it. The doe reached my scent trail and stopped took a few steps up and down the trail and went on browsing. The ladder stand had a few good shooting lanes to the side hill and a very tiny shooting lane toward the creek where we thought they would cross. It was overgrown with buckthorn still holding it green leaves making for good cover but limited visibility.
The doe got a bit nervous but did not move instead looked back toward the other deer which now showed me he was a year and half old small buck with a tiny basket 6. He was convinced this old doe was in love with him and he was not going to let her out of his sight. He walked nose down my drag line trail up the hill and down again getting more excited by the minute. Sorry old doe I think I may have sent this young buck a love letter on your behalf. Again the doe looked back this time I could see she was looking past the young hopeful suitor. I could see through the brush another deer not very far back but in the brush enough not to be hard to detect. I thought this might be a good buck. What a show this morning!
The deer moved forward watching the doe and little buck.. I could see rack , It was definitely bigger than the other guy. But was it big enough to fill a tag. I was not sure, but I got ready.
He stood back and watched the little 6 trail an obviously annoyed doe. The bigger buck moved slowly and quietly down the trail raising his head sniffing the air and then dropping his nose to the ground where I left the scent trail. I was trying to get a good look at his rack. The green leaves of the buckthorn made it difficult to see. He moved nose down on the drag line walking into a shooting lane. My gun was not yet shouldered but ready. He moved quickly through the shooting lane and gave me a pretty good look at the rack. Probably yes went through my mind. He veered off the trail down hill towards the creek. I saw more rack.
I heard a splash. Oh no! Did I spook the doe and little buck? Did he bolt across the creek? I took my gaze off the bigger buck and quickly glanced the woods edge and the grass flat that bordered the creek.
Another deer had crossed the creek towards the trio appeared heading straight to the doe from the creek bank.
Relieved I had not spooked anything I looked back to my right to locate the poor doe who now as getting a lot of attention.
The six pointer was closing ground from behind her and was putting his nose on her tail. I looked to his right to locate the bigger buck to see if he was a tag filler. He looked down and gave me another really nice look at his rack. He went from probably to definitely. I slowly shouldered my gun and scoped him in.
He moved so slow and deliberate his whole way in and now when it is time to stop in a shooting lane he picked up his pace and blew through the two of the last 3 shooting lanes on the hillside and hid behind the buck brush. Fortunately I saw how the doe moved through the area and waited and guessed this buck woudl do the same. I waited for the next last opening. No luck he was not happy with the extra attention of the other deer that jumped the creek and was now nose to nose with the doe. This poor doe now had what I could see now was a spike buck on her nose a six on her trail and a much bigger one closing fast.
I was dead focused on him scoping him and moving with him now completely losing sight of the other deer. A quick opening but no shot. He approached the creek now in the wide open but still leaving only a smole hole in the brush for a bullet to pass. I had looked at that area when looking at the ducks with the binoculars. One of the only clear spots to look out when watching the ducks fly in.
He just would not quit moving. He was quartering away about 40 to 50 yards out. He slowed slighty as he approached the creek to cross. I flipped the safety forward on the Browning x bolt 6.5 Western and let my first opening day shot in 25 years escape. The gun rang out and bucked my shoulder. The deer disappeared from my scope.
I was in disbelief. How in the world did this just happen? Did I miss? Did he jump down the bank just before I set off the trigger? I lowered my scope to see the high racked 10 point crumbled on the bank of the Trimbelle Creek. The quartering away shot entered high and finished low through the lungs and he never made another step.
I sat and watched him making sure he did not suffer and did not need to be put out of any misery. His rack I thought was pretty good standing out and up out of the taller grass on the river bank.
Half of the ducks darkened the sky in a roar as the shot rang out. That was fun to see. It was 8:15. I sat there for awhile taking it all in thinking to myself how fortunate I was to be able to hunt and enjoy this with my son. Thanking everyone and everything for this fantastic morning.
When he was for sure at peace and the ducks were done with the show. I texted Alex. “Nailed it!” I am sure he was worried I missed since I did not call him but texted him instead. My phone rang and I could hear the excitement in his voice. He was more excited than he was when he called me and said he hit a nice one just weeks earlier.
I said “I think it is an ok buck, at least good enough for me probably one of the bigger ones I have ever shot and for sure the biggest one I have ever shot with a gun.” That bar is pretty low, so I was sure I wasn’t going to hell for lying on that one.
I texted my wife Sheila and said got one. And just like no one else can do it she humbled me with the next text. A one word sentence “YOU?” It made me smile, I think she was as suprised as me. I said don’t faint but yes me.
Alex arrived and insisted on gutting it saying you gutted almost all of my deer when I started doing this let me return the favor. We drug it to the logging road I wished I had walked down in the morning it was far less adventurous. I sat at the end of the trail and watched Alex return to his stand grab his bike. It was an interesting picture watching an orange vested man look like he was floating moving quickly and quietly down the bottoms to his truck.
15 minutes later he was heading down the trail with the four-wheeler and a wagon to haul it to our trucks. Opening morning was in the books.
With a gun tag filled Sunday morning Alex and I decided the mallard opportunity was too good to pass up. He said he already had two nice bucks this year and said it would be fun to experience this type of hunt that rarely shows itself in this part of Wisconsin let alone on our property. Brian one of my buddies who carted me off to the hospital in Devils Lake took us up on our ninvite tojoin us and he passed on day two of gun deer season to experience this as well. His deer stand was a less that two miles away and he could see the higher than normal mallard traffic.
We set just 5 decoys and a spinner along the bank of the beaver pond. We arrive at 6: 15 set up. There was no wind ,the pond was glass and empty as my bank account December 26th.
Did they leave? These were definitely migrators as we did not have that many local mallards here. You never know. They stage up and vanish. We theorized it was a loafing spot, not the roost. A spot like a living room you hang out in and visit between meals, not where you sleep. If it was really a roost and it was empty this, morning we were out of luck.
Seven minutes before official opeing shooting time we were covered in black blobs dropping in on the water and hovering our spinner and decoys. What a sight. It was fun just to sit and watch.
We took turns at calling shots and splashed mallard after mallard. The pond was littered with them, and we sent our new lab HONEY out to retrieve them and get a good count.
I walked the bank to get her a good visual of her retrieving marks and sent her back and forth as more birds poured in but we held our shots to make sure we were safe for each other and not over our limit. The hunt was not very old and we were making sure it was not over. The fourth bird she brought back was a big curly tailed green headed drake mallard in full plumage. It was so magnificent to see it coming to hand. As it was proudly and effieciently presented to me by Honey a silver flash of metal off the bright orange legs caught my eye.
I could not believe what I just thought I saw. Was it really? It couldn’t be. We have never ever had that happen here. Just two in 23 years and they were in North Dakota. But there it was plain as could be …A BAND.
I do not think you could scrape the smile off my face as I yelled out “ A BAND!” The rest of the hunt went well and we hustled off to help Mom and Dad put up their snow fence with a trip through her kitchen that Alex never refuses nor do I.
What a weekend!
The Drake mallard was banded this spring 2024 and was hatched this year near Roslyn SD. He must of ate well and had good genes because he was a very nice size duck.
Tagged out and Bagged out with a band.
Mark
