EARLY ARCHERY DEER SEASON IS HERE

As I write this, on the first official day of fall, the change of seasons is evident.  The morning suggests a sweater, the flaming embers of maples’ limbs lie lightly atop shoots of green summer grass, and the air smells of a few mornings I’ve experienced from a treestand.  With sunrise this Saturday will come a familiar fall tradition, what is probably the most anxiously awaited on the sportsman’s calendar—the opening of the early archery deer season, the first in a series of new beginnings to come.

The Facts

    Saturday, October 3 marks the beginning of the early archery season that will run through November 13 statewide.  The entire six-week period is designated “either-sex,” during which hunters are permitted to take either a buck or a doe.

    Midway through the season, a window opens for the gun-toting variety of big game hunters.  The early muzzleloader season extends from October 31 right through the heralded general firearms season opener, November 14.  Hunters are permitted to take a deer of either sex throughout the length of the muzzleloading season as well, unless specially noted in the VDGIF deer hunting regulations for the 2015-16 season, which can be accessed at www.dgif.virginia.gov.

    East of the Blue Ridge Mountains, except on National Forest Lands in Amherst, Bedford, and Nelson Counties, the daily bag limit rests at the historical number of two.  Hunters are permitted to take six deer per license year, provided at least three are “antlerless,” which is defined as a deer with no antlers protruding above the hair line.  Bucks with small “buttons,” or pedicels, that don’t break the skin or hair line are considered antlerless.

Four Eyes

    The falling leaves and half-bear trees that come to mind when one visualizes bowhunting in the autumn woods are often not reality during the front end of the early archery season in Virginia.  Such was my dilemma one early October evening in a familiar creekbottom.

    Evidence of a relentless summer was slipping away as dusk and the coolness of an October night settled in, when the growing sound of footsteps materialized from the peeping of birds and the trickle of a small stream in the background of my thoughts.  Still-green leaves blocked any chance of a long-distance ID.  From my position in a ground blind facing a hollow dominated by a small tributary, the noise was diffused, irregular, and hardly audible. 

    However, as the noise grew, I came to understand why.  There were two sources.  One seemed to originate from my right; the other, from my left.  Each bore different characteristics.  One was steady, soft, deliberate; the other, erratic, quick, and careless.

    The first source materialized first, on my right.  A mature doe browsed methodically down the slope of a ridge that ended at the creek’s confluence in front of me.

    My hand tightened around the handle of my compound bow as my heart rate quickened.  The deer moseyed behind the veil of a wide hickory tree.   I saw my chance.

    As I raised my bow, ready to draw, the second source strutted into view—a jake, a young turkey, seemingly with the intention of meeting my white-tailed quarry at the confluence.  Their paths ran into each other.

    But as the bird strutted into view, he froze and cocked his head at the foreign camouflage box in his turf.  Turkey have exceptional eyesight, so the fact that he didn’t bolt and send my chances of taking anything home to the table over the next ridge surprised me.  Nevertheless, I remained frozen, though my muscles were strained in the beginning stages of drawing. 

    Nervously, the bird sidestepped, still cocking his head inquisitively. 

    “If he just makes it a few more feet, that small beech might give me a window,” I breathed nervously. 

    My wish came true after several sweaty moments.  Naturally, at that time, the doe’s head had popped out from behind the hickory, still apparently oblivious to the tense moment at hand.  I saw my second of opportunity, and drew. 

    As subtle as I could be wasn’t subtle enough.  The doe swung her head up, her body still shielded by the hickory.  I had a fresh opponent in the staring game, and now I was at full draw. 

    Meanwhile, the jake continued his nervous dance, edging ever closer to the blind.  The doe twitched her ears, though her body remained solidly in place, teasing me.

    After what seemed an hour, I began to shake under the weight of the bow.  The jake had finally had enough, wheeled around, and trotted out of the scene.  The doe shot out a wheeze and bolted.  I relaxed, exhausted from the tension of a close encounter.□

*Originally published in The Rural Virginian

FALL GOBBLERS IN THE PINE CREEK VALLEY

Dawn greeted us with gloom, wind, and drizzle—the traditional late fall bad-weather mix.

    Only a month prior, my college deferral fish-bumming road trip had lead me to Pennsylvania’s Pine Creek Valley, ablaze with October foliage, though the river suffered severely from record-low water.  As luck would have it, I was given the opportunity to return as part of a media group from TroutUnlimited, but the Valley, one of my new favorite locations, had fallen victim to the changing seasons in my absence.  The abrupt surrounding mountains were transparent—skeletal and hardened by the onset of cold—and the river ran high and dark with the cold rains of late fall in the Northern Tier. 

    In three cars—two pickups and a rented SUV—we caravanned to a trailhead on State Forest property, shotguns, blaze orange, and seat cushions in tote.  Four well-trained turkey dogs rode patiently in the bed, knowing all too well what was coming.

Photo by Mark Taylor, TU Eastern Communications Director

    The air was translucent with fog and the smell of the wet fall woods.  Deliberately, our party trudged up the trail, up the mountain, past rose bushes and hemlocks, watching friends and stand-in turkey guides Rob Mucinski and Ron Magnano send their wiry-haired turkey seekers on the chase with directional gestures.  Somewhere within earshot, a gobbler boomed.

    The grade continued, with no switchback or relief, until the trail flattened out on a bench quickly dubbed “the orchard” for the thick population of apple trees growing in an understory clearing.  Paula Piatt, a representative from Trout Unlimited, had done the scouting the week before, and informed Ron and Rob that the birds had been spotted near the orchard on several occasions. 

Photo by Mark Taylor, TU Eastern Communications Director

    “The dogs will find them soon enough,” Ron reassured the group, confident in the ability of the four-legged hunters.

    As we crossed the bench lengthwise and approached a switchback leading further up the mountain, the dots on the guides’ GPS clumped, and baying ensued.  Standing frozen, we watched as a handful of turkey fled the scene in flight and listened as the rest of the flock beat air on the opposite side of the ridge.

    “It’s a clean break,” Ron and Rob agreed.

    A clean break is essential in fall turkey hunting.  The trained dogs are taught to ambush a flock with the hopes of pushing them into immediate flight and dispersing them radially.  Only then can a caller reliably reassemble the frazzled flock with gentle kee kees and clucks.

Photo by Mark Taylor, TU Eastern Communications Director

    Wasting no time, everyone in the group stashed their blaze orange and traded it for camouflage.  Chairs were unfolded, layers adjusted, and bathroom breaks taken.  It takes a certain level of preparation to sit motionless on the forest floor for an hour or more.

    The party split to take up stand locations on each side of the ridge, while the guides took stands behind the shooters, covering the praised dogs in camouflage burlap to quiet them.  In moments, the woods were once again silent, and the calling began.

    Ron and Rob seemed to be talking to one another as they took turns kee keeing from across the ridgeline.

    Rain picked up and the wind swirled and subsided.

    Just a bit more than an hour had passed when the tone of Ron’s calling changed tone.  A shotgun blast followed, as I squinted in curiosity in his direction.

    A bird was down!

    We continued to sit and call for another half hour with no luck; and so we made the decision to break cover and check on the rest of the party. 

Photo by Mark Taylor, TU Eastern Communications Director

    Don Knaus, a local Pennsylvanian outdoor writer, emerged from the woods with a fine bird clutched and displayed by the legs.  Excitedly, Don recounted his encounter with his first fall turkey shot with the aid of trained turkey dogs.

    Don’s bird was the first and only harvest of the day and the trip; and despite the humble apologies of Ron and Rob who had wished for more shots, each and every one in attendance was pleased and excited to share the experience.

Originally published in The Rural Virginian

RABBIT RECONNAISSANCE

        In the new year, my mind often drifts to things I hope to accomplish, things new and exciting.  I've always had the desire to chase rabbits.

It was poring rain--Fluvanna County Schools called an all-too-regular "snow day" for rain--and I resolved to do just that.

        Noting the rain, as I gathered my things I realized the struggle I was undertaking.  Rain coat, gloves, hat, licence, food, hot coffee, 6-shot, 20-gauge--all here.  The pitter-patter on the ground would rob me of my sense of hearing, with which, on a sunny day, I could use to pinpoint the location of a rabbit settling in to a new hideout after being jumped.

        Oh well.  If nothing else, a few hours of slinking through the pine and rose thickets of a friend's lake property would put me on some rabbits.  I would know where to find them, where they hide out.  I could put together a pattern--which types of cover they prefer, which type offers the best shooting.

Photo by Matthew Reilly

        As I turned the key in the truck's ignition, the patch of rain on the doplar radar opened up around Cunningham, Fluvanna County.  I hoped I wouldn't get too wet.

        Turkey love the rain for the worms and grubs it exposes; and likewise, there were several feeding in the fields of long grass as I pulled into the property down gravel and dirt.  Turkey season reopens on January 11th--tomorrow--they're safe.

        Heading into the pines, I remember my GPS in my backpack.  I might need it.  The thick pines are somewhat disorienting.  I take the same opportunity to slip three shells into the chamber of my 20-gauge pump action.

Photo by Matthew Reilly

        Moving slowly, I approached each piece of potential rabbit cover shotgun shouldered, the barrel at a 45-degree decline, ready.  A kick to the trunk of a blown-over ceder flushes nothing.  

        On to the next piece of cover.  A hulking pile of uprooted pines caught my attention; and I stepped closer, still on alert.  Five paces from the log jam, a streak of white-gray fur exploded from the bows, striding out of sight, silent on the wet needles.  I missed my chance.  If the ground were dry, I would pause and wait.  With the rabbit's new location pinpointed, I would let it settle for a moment, then stalk, hoping to get a shot before or while it makes its next escape.

        Moving on.

Photo by Matthew Reilly

        I came into an opening, swampy and wet.  A creek pooled in a small break in the pines, hardwoods surrounding, where a beaver had dammed and taken up residence.  Moving further, I came upon a skeleton, the beaver's.  It's no secret--where there are rabbits there are predators.  A beaver could make a strong meal for a coyote or bobcat.  I harvested its skull as a trophy.

Photo by Matthew Reilly

     
Another hour searching the thickets resulted in three more rabbits jumped, none offering shots.  As I headed back to the truck parked above the lake, I was still more excited to return on a dry day with better visibility.

        Packing my gear into the back seat of the truck, at last I detected a sound, natural and rhythmic, in the air.  It grew louder, and soon a hoard of dark figures emerged from the fog, onk-onking on time.  The flock of geese continued to grow from the thick cloud cover--50, 100, 200.  Roughly 200 birds flew over the lake in formation, circled, and disappeared into the fog once more, their call tapering out.  Again, moments later, the sound began to grow.  50 more birds arrived, bent their wings, and landed softly on the bank 200 yards away.  Feeling safe, hearing the squabble below, the original flock of 200 returned, bent their wings, and joined the first-comers by the water.  Another like-sized flock joined them moments later.

    

        Driving home, I was content with my afternoon.  I was wet, beaten up by brush and thorns--tired--but I knew where I could find rabbits on my next hunt, and I know where I will hunt resident geese this year!□

    

IT'S TIME TO TALK TURKEY

    It was on my short drive home from school on a wet mid-March afternoon that I had my first encounter with one of Spring’s long-anticipated sights—a gang of big black fanning birds spread about a distant field edge, plucking grubs from the softened earth.  

My senses overloaded with visions of drizzly April mornings, the air dank with the aroma of redbud and dogwood blossoms, and booming gobbles resonating from hardwood hollows.  This time of year, a light rain is a welcomed benefactor, and turkey fanatics fine tune their putts and purrs with their always-handy tools.  It’s spring, and it’s time to talk turkey.

The Regulations

    This year, the spring gobbler season will take off on April 6^th with the arrival of Youth Day, open to youth 15 and younger.  Look to the DGIF website for information about purchasing an apprentice license.

    
    April 13^th marks the beginning of the general season, and hunting is permitted until noon through May 4^th.  All day hunting begins May 6^th, and runs till the season’s close on May 18^th.

    

    As in years past, there is a daily limit of one bearded bird.  Three birds can be taken in a licensed year, pooling fall and spring harvests.

The Facts

    Biologists note a gradual 1.2-percent annual decrease in the turkey population over the past decade.  This is considered a stable population, a welcome one that still fluctuates by the year.

    Spring harvests in 2011 ranked three-percent higher statewide than in 2010, and with equal increases in numbers found east (EBR) and west of the Blue Ridge (WBR).

    2012 brought a two-percent decrease in harvests statewide, with hunters WBR noticing a 9-percent drop and those EBR, a very slight reduction from 2011.  But a general consensus among hunters deemed the 2012 season a fluke.  Many believe that a mild winter encouraged an early green-up triggering mating two weeks early.  This theory is supported by the Youth Day harvest of 530 birds—a 53-percent increase over 2011’s 347.

Mild winter and spring conditions resulted in a high poult
yield and low mortality rate through the summer of 2012,
which may reflect generously on hunters's harvests in
upcoming seasons.  Photo by Matt Reilly

A Good Year?

    In contrast, this year’s long, tapering winter should keep foliage at bay until the season’s opener.  Gary Norman, DGIF wild turkey project leader, furthermore predicts, because two-year-old birds make up the large majority of gobbler harvests annually, an above-average poult production in 2011, along with the generally mild weather experienced later in the spring, should warrant positive turkey densities across the state in 2013.  Combine these elements, and those chasing gobblers this spring can favor their chances.

Where To Hunt?

    Eastern slope counties like Bedford, Botetourt, and Franklin, and Southern Piedmont counties like Halifax, Pittsylvania, and Southampton—all large counties—often rank high when considering the number of harvested birds.

    However, biologists stress that reproduction and, likewise, population density is local.  In terms of birds killed per square mile in past years, it’s realized that hunters’ best shot at a turkey will be in the Tidewater and Southern Piedmont counties of Westmoreland (2.06), Richmond (1.90), Northumberland (1.43), Lancaster (1.37), and Surry (1.36). 

    In these counties, large, agricultural tracts of private land are not hard to come by, and provide good hunting for hunters willing to ask permission from landowners.

    However, don’t rule out public land.  The department maintains several WMAs that boast decent turkey hunting, such as Featherfin WMA in Appomattox and Big Woods WMA in Sussex.  The western Thomas Jefferson and George Washington National Forest lands span many top ten counties in terms of overall harvest numbers.

Talk, Don’t Play, Turkey

    Hunting accidents are rare occurrences, but they happen, and every precaution should be taken to avoid one.

    Turkey hunters commonly wear full camouflage to hide themselves from the wild turkey’s keen eyesight.  Wearing blaze orange while on the move, or taping a tree near your stand with orange tape can help make your presence known to fellow hunters.

    Never stalking a turkey is the other side of this equation.  You may be after another hunter’s gobbles and decoys. 

    Finally, if you are successful, pack out your bird adorned with orange, so other hunters can’t mistake your trophy from one they’re about to take.

           

    

    Chances are, DGIF Executive Director and devoted turkey enthusiast, Bob Duncan, has been clucking and purring for weeks.  Are you ready?  Overall, factors indicate an average to slightly above-average 2013 spring season, with plenty of big, sharp-eyed, flighty game birds to match wits and share a beautiful spring morning with.

We’d Love to Hear From You!

    If you’ve got trophy pictures or Youth Day stories, send them in via the contact page!

Originally published in The Rural Virginian