I had possibly the best hunt of the year the other night. Not because I made the perfect shot, I saw the most deer or even because the weather was ideal. It was the perfect hunt because…wait for it…I finally did everything right.

Those who are regular readers may now close your mouths. I know the shock is hard to handle.

I spent the afternoon in a great spot, an old pond dam that’s obviously not been doing its job for quite some time, allowing a slow trickling stream to flow through a hardwood bottom. The area near the dam is beautiful: oak and pine trees tower over the forest floor and there’s not too much scrub around to block shooting lanes.

I chose a pine tree to climb – the way the teeth on my climber grab the bark gives me just a little more comfort, not to mention they’re abundant in S.C. – and had clear, 30-yard shooting lanes in all directions. The wind was in my face the stream trickled behind me and the rain stopped just as I got settled in.

All in all, it was almost the perfect hunt. I say “almost” because there was only one thing lacking: the elusive Odocoileus virginianus. (Don’t ask me how to say that…your guess is as good as mine.) The only animal I saw that evening was a squirrel bounding up the tree next to mine, oblivious to my presence.

I guess it just goes to show you that no matter how perfect the setup, no matter how ideal the situation; sometimes the deer just don’t cooperate. That’s OK though, there’s still two weeks left in the season.

My wife, Leanne, two sons and I spent Saturday afternoon at a Christmas tree farm searching for the perfect tree to adorn our living room. It was a cut-your-own place, but lucky for me, they did have some pre-cut trees ready, and without too much encouragement from me, Leanne chose one of those. We (meaning Leanne, of course) spent quite a bit of time looking at each tree, evaluating its width and height and finally settled on a nice tree to our (her) liking.

While waiting on Leanne and my oldest son, Drew, to get back from a hayride, I got to thinking about how choosing a tree to climb when you’re in the woods is very similar to choosing a Christmas tree. You try and find one that has the right width and height, isn’t crooked, has branches in all the right places, etc.

So, when I ventured to the woods Sunday afternoon, one would assume I would have had those things in mind seeing as how I just spent the previous afternoon thinking about it. (Notice I said “assume.”)

Anyway, I found a great spot where three trails merged on the edge of a field and decided to find the “perfect” tree to climb. Unlike Leanne and the Christmas tree search, however, I simply chose the first tree that looked good. From the outset, I thought I made a good choice. It wasn’t too big, but not too small, either. It didn’t have any branches I had to cut on the way up and so therefore I thought it to be the perfect tree. Man, was I wrong.

After I got my stand attached to the tree, my safety harness strapped on and began my ascent, I realized this particular tree got really skinny in a hurry. Not only that, the oak branches I thought I could climb right through were attached to the pine I was climbing via a network of vines, making it impossible to break through unless I did quite a bit of pruning and sawing, which I didn’t have time for since I had lollygagged around on the walk in. So, at about 8 feet up, I decided to settle in. I fastened the seat of my Summit to the tree, sat down, pulled my bow up and knocked an arrow.

After about 15 minutes I decided it would probably be a good idea to stand up and see where my best shooting lanes were located in the off chance a deer came by. Lucky for me, I chose to do this before a deer walked through. As I stood, the oak – and the vines attached to it – attacked my head and face; when I practiced drawing, the limb/vines to my right took hold of my arm and the branch to my left completely blocked any view I thought I had. It was at this point I pulled out the pruners and went to work. Twenty minutes of pruning, pulling, grunting, sawing and making enough noise to alert any deer in the zip code of my presence later, I had a somewhat workable situation.

It wasn’t until I settled back in that I realized what kind of vines were attached to the oak. Anyone care to guess? Yep, my good friend, poison ivy.

It really goes without saying that I didn’t see anything, but I promise the 100 squirrels around me sat in awe at the spectacle and I swear I heard them laugh. I know I saw at least one smile.

Maybe next time I’ll just take a blind. Or take Leanne with me so we (she) can find a tree to our (her) liking. With the homerun she hit with the Christmas tree, it’s worth a shot.

I didn’t want to go, I won’t deny that. It was cold for South Carolina – mid 40s, raining with a NE wind blowing a steady 15 mph – and I had already decided to sit on the couch and watch TV the rest of the afternoon. A nap was definitely in order.

Then I got the call.

“I forgot you had that blind, let’s go hunting.”

I dreaded it. I even tried to talk him out of it. But, in the end, I went. And I’m glad I did.

I’d been inviting the landowner of the new place I’m hunting to join me all season. And each time I asked, he was either out of town, had family commitments or just couldn’t make it. So when he called Sunday, I knew he was anxious to go. Heck, you’d have to be hardcore to want to hunt in that kind of weather, even if you are in a blind.

So, reluctantly, I drove the 20 minutes to his house. We loaded up – in the rain – and headed out to a new spot – in the rain – and set up – in the rain. We were definitely early enough. By the time we got settled, it was about 3 p.m.

After we got set up, the rain stopped and my spirits lifted. I actually found myself getting excited until the rain started again – harder than before – and dampened my hopes yet again. But it was worth it. Listening to the sound of the rain on the roof of the blind, laughing at stupid jokes and merely spending time outdoors with a good friend is some of the best therapy there is.

Of course we didn’t see a thing, but it didn’t matter, we had fun. And that’s what it’s supposed to be about, right? Not about antler size or the great shot. It’s about fun. I get caught up in all the hoopla surrounding hunting too much to enjoy it sometimes. When someone tells me they killed a deer, the first words out of my mouth are typically “Congratulations, what’ll he score?”

That’s not the way it used to be, at least for me. When I first started hunting, no matter what time it was or what the weather was doing, if I wanted to go hunting during deer season, Dad would take me. And, when I inevitably wanted to leave 30 minutes before dark because I was too cold or hungry or just plain bored, he never said a word other than “OK, let’s go.” And he always said it with a smile. Sometimes we’d see deer, most times, though, we didn’t. And that was OK. If we hunted in separate stands and I saw or killed a deer, he never asked, “What’ll he score,” he would just smile and be happy that I saw something, period. Why? Not just because he was my dad, but also because he was a fellow hunter and a friend.

Of course, I would never discredit the rush you get when you finally get a deer in range and put the perfect shot on it; that’s a feeling you never shake and it’s why we sit in a stand for countless hours. Heck, I’m still hunting for the big boy, too. But, in the end, really, isn’t it about the fun you have and the people you meet?

Think about it: If you couldn’t talk strategy or share stories or commiserate with someone because you made a terrible shot, would you still hunt? I guess I might, but it definitely wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.

So, fellow hunters, the next time you feel yourself obsessed (see My Obsession Revealed) or burned out or whatever, take a minute to reflect on why you hunt and ask yourself “Why do I hunt?”

I can just about guarantee that “What’ll he score?” won’t rank among your top three.

Taking some liberty with the title of Mossy Oak’s TV show by the same title, Obsession Revealed, I thought I would let you in on what has seemingly become an obsession of mine this season.

As I’ve said previously, I got permission to hunt a new piece of property this year. By all accounts and signs, it’s a great spot. There’s only one problem: I’ve seen a total of 1 –yes 1 – deer on this place so far. What I thought was going to be a slam dunk on every hunt based on the amount of sign I saw when I scouted has become an obsession to get even a single deer in bow range.

The thing is, I have permission to hunt another spot that’s loaded with deer. Actually, good friend and NWTF Public Relations Manager, Brian Dowler, killed a nice buck there recently. And, the owner of the property has been nice enough to let me hunt pretty much when and where I want to, but I have yet to set foot on the place this deer season.

Why? Because I’m obsessed with the new place. At least, that’s the only reason I can figure.

At first, it was the newness of the spot; I was excited every time I got to hunt. I liken it to when you first started dating the hot girl in high school. All you wanted to do was spend all your free time with her. You talked on the phone way past curfew, made plans for the weekend and dropped anything and everything to spend your time with her.

From there my budding obsession progressed into the “I-can’t-believe-I’m-not-seeing-anything” phase. I would leave each hunt scratching my head and calling my hunting buddies with new theories as to what the deer were doing – or not doing in this case. (Ask Dowler and Mr. BG, they’ll tell you they’re sick of hearing about it.)

Now it’s at the begging stage. I sit in the stand or blind and try to connect with the deer through mental telepathy – I told you I was obsessed. I beg for just the sight of a deer. Heck, I’d take seeing the hind leg of one at 60 yards at this point. But alas, it hasn’t happened…yet.

So, since my wife and boys have been out of town, I’ve been hunting as much as possible. Anyone care to guess where I went?

After consulting with fellow hunters, and given my own miss last week, it’s time to update the MBBA Executive Staff. If you need a refresher on what the MBBA is, see the post titled “The MBBA – You’re Already a Member.”

Since a more recent miss trumps an older miss in our inverted system, I have moved up the food chain to the office of VP. I also know MBBA member Bob missed not once, but twice on a recent hunt, so he takes over the office of El Presidente.

Last names have been left out to protect the ones who missed from more scrutiny than they’ve already endured. Of course, if you know the offenders, please feel free to contact them with a congratulatory laugh.

The new standings are below:

El Presidente: Bob. Bob took some tail feathers off a turkey, missing the vitals, and gave a buck a haircut on a recent hunt, thus lofting him to the office of El Presidente. (+6)

Vice President: Yours truly. I missed a doe at 15 yards, broadside. I’d like to say I barely missed, but the fact remains that I completely shot over her. No idea on that one. (+3)

Secretary: Shannon. Shannon missed a doe with her compound while on an Illinois hunt a couple weeks ago. (+3)

Secretary: Lang. Lang missed a nice buck with trad equipment recently. (+1)

Have people you know who should be on the Executive Staff? Post a comment below and I’ll add them to the list.

I’ll be the first to admit it: I was certain I’d see a nice 140-class buck walk broadside at 15 yards on my recent Kentucky hunt. And, I’m also certain you know what happened – or didn’t happen as the case may be. While I saw plenty of deer, there was no 140-class buck. There were does – lots and lots of does – and two or three young bucks hanging around the area, but no big boys.

I did manage to connect on a young doe the first morning, putting the perfect shot on her and watched her fall 50 yards away from my stand. Then there was the older doe I missed at 15 yards, broadside the second night of the hunt. (You’re now reading the writings of the Vice President of the MBBA.)

But, all is not lost. I still have a Kentucky buck tag and although I may not have connected on the monster I was after on this trip, the season stays in until after the first of the year. Chances are, I’ll be back in the stand before season’s end and hopefully won’t be eating tag soup this spring.

I’ve actually sat in my stand here in S.C. and dreamt about this week all season. This week, you see, I am headed to western Kentucky for a hunt with my dad. After many long discussions with my dad and others, I chose this week because it’s typically during the rut. So hopefully, come Friday, I’ll be drawing on a nice KY whitetail that’s “rut stupid.” I figure the bucks have to be stupid for me to get a shot, so this will put that theory to the test.

Field reports from the stand I will be hunting are very encouraging to say the least. Dad saw a nice buck the other night from my stand, but unfortunately (fortunately for me, perhaps?) didn’t get the buck to come in range. Regardless, western Kentucky is known for trophy-class deer and there have been several killed from the particular property I will be hunting. Wish me luck.

All this thinking about hunting in Kentucky jogged my memory of a hunt when I was quite a bit younger. A psychologist would probably call it a “suppressed ” or “repressed” memory, but I choose to believe it’s just something I would rather forget.

Growing up in Oldham County, about 45 minutes east of Louisville, I was lucky enough to have ample agricultural land to hunt and one hunt in particular stands out.

It was circa 1990 and I was in the neighborhood of 15 years old and was hunting with Dad’s Marlin .30-30 lever action on a piece of farmland near our house. I set up on a trail against a huge boulder and not long after setting up I caught movement to my right on the trail. As the deer came into view, I realized it was a nice 10-point not 20 yards from my position. This was by far the best buck I’d ever seen, much less shot at.

He would probably go 150 easy. Granted, this buck – like me – seems to grow an inch or two every year, the only difference being I grow more in the waistline. Anyway, I took aim off the iron sights of the Marlin and proceeded to miss this buck not once, not twice, but three times!

Wait, it gets better.

Thinking my poor marksmanship was because I didn’t have a proper rest, I got up, moved around to the backside of the boulder, took a rest – I know it seems crazy, but I promise this buck didn’t move – and missed not once, but twice more. For those of you keeping track at home, that’s five missed broadside shots from 20 yards with a .30-30. (If there was an organization like the MBBA for rifle hunters, I think I’d have a bronze likeness of me on the wall in their headquarters.)

Luckily, I carry six arrows in my quiver so, hopefully, the sixth shot will be the one that connects. I’ll keep you posted on my successes and will surely have some more interesting posts from the field come next week.

With deer seasons open around the country, I figured it was time to give an update on the MBBA Executive Staff. If you need a refresher on what the MBBA is, see the post titled “The MBBA – You’re Already a Member.”

Last names have been left out to protect the ones who missed from more scrutiny than they’ve already endured. Of course, if you know the offenders, please feel free to contact them with a congratulatory laugh.

Standings as of now are:

El Presidente: Shannon. Shannon missed a doe with her compound while on an Illinois hunt a couple weeks ago. (+3)

Vice President: Lang. Lang missed a nice buck with trad equipment at the Dog Pound last week. (+1)

Treasurer: Open

Secretary: Open

General Membership: Unfortunately – or fortunately, depending on how you look at it – I’m still in the general membership, not having drawn on a deer so far this year. Seems I’ve been spending my time bird watching. I think I need to get an iPhone and download that bird identification app I’ve seen on the TV commercial.

If you know someone who can fill the Treasurer or Secretary positions, let me know and I’ll update the list.

… I Learned in Kindergarten.

While hunting with C.J. Davis of Chevalier Advertising on the recent Spots and Spikes Hunt 09, we set up in a blind over a food plot one afternoon and it got me to thinking: there are definitely etiquette rules that apply when hunting from a blind with a partner. So, I borrowed a title from a popular poster and consulted a few friends to come up with the list below.

1. No farting. Yep, I said it, and it couldn’t be more true. If there’s little wind, a blind can act like a giant pressure cooker, especially if it’s hot. Remember, one man’s flatulence is another man’s misery.

2. Never eat or offer food that gives you – or your hunting buddy – gas. (I found this out the hard way) See Rule 1.

3. Loud noises – talking, for instance – is absolutely not allowed for obvious reasons. See Rule 1.

4. Eating potato chips or other loud food is forbidden, especially if it gives you or your hunting partner gas. See Rule 1.

5. Primary shooter gets first choice of seating position in the blind, unless, of course, he has gas, in which case he has to sit next to the biggest window. See Rule 1.

6. Taking off your shoes/socks – or any other layer of clothing that will expose skin for that matter – is strictly prohibited unless hunting with a member of the opposite sex. Even then it must be consensual. Plus, who wants to smell your stinky feet? See Rule 1.

7. You may not question the blind location, especially if you weren’t the one who put it up. See Rule 1.

8. When all else fails refer to Rule 1.

As you can tell, Rule 1 is the primary focus here and should always remain at the forefront of your mind. Everything else revolves around Rule 1 and it should not be taken for granted. If I’ve missed a rule, please feel free to let me know. Just remember, please keep it clean.

As any hardcore bowhunter will tell you, a good set of binoculars is key whether you’re in the stand or spotting and stalking through the open plains. Unlike rifle hunters, however, stick-and-string shooters don’t have the luxury of judging a buck while aiming.

Since we choose a more primitive method of hunting – I know, primitive and binoculars in the same post, what can I say? – we must size up our trophy well before the shot.

Figure it this way: a buck walks out 100 yards away and you’ve got to decide if you need to stand up, reach for your bow and put your release on the string all the while hoping for him to maybe come your way. Whereas with a good set of optics, you can size up your target and go back to playing Brick Breaker on your phone when you realize that 150 you thought – hoped? – walked out was actually a 95. (Trust me, it’s happened.)

And while there are quite a few good optics companies out there, my choice is Nikon. After field-testing many a pair of binos and even a few spotting scopes, my personal preference is the Nikon Monarch Xs I carry on every outing.

By nature, I’m hard on my optics. C.J. Davis, Nikon PR guy, knows this all too well. He was kind enough to loan me a pair of 8X Monarch Xs to use this year and I’ve already lost one of the little lens covers. (Hopefully, I can find a replacement somewhere.) I also carry the binoculars rain or shine and they’ve definitely taken a beating. But whatever I tend to look at, which, this year, seems to be a lot of birds, always comes through crystal clear.

I’m also not educated enough in optics to tell you if my 8.5s will allow more or less light than the 10s, but luckily C.J. is:

“One big factor in determining light transmission is the size of the exit pupil. The larger the exit pupil, the more light it allows through to your eye. To determine how much light is transmitted, you simply divide the objective diameter by the power. So, for an 8 X 42 bino, you’d divide 42 by 8, which gives you 5.25. On a 10 X 42, it’s 4.2. Therefore an 8X bino will allow more light transmission than a 10X, with all else being equal. Now coatings and glass quality among other things influence light transmission, too, so going by exit pupil is only effective when comparing similar binos. Also, keeping your optics clean and scratch-free will keep it ‘brighter’ longer as well.”

Regardless of the math, I do know this: I can see perfectly fine looking through my binos after shooting light. Not that I’d shoot after dark or advocate doing so….I just like to see what’s out there before I climb down the tree.

I also tend to have a hard time keeping my binoculars steady when I’m in the stand for some reason. Maybe it’s because most of the trees I choose to climb are small enough that a stiff breeze takes my breath away. Call me an adrenaline junky, or just crazy. Either way, it always seems I choose the worst possible tree to climb. Anyway, the Monarch Xs I carry seem to compensate for my lack of tree-choosing ability and the image on the other end is always steady and doesn’t shake nearly as bad as I do. Go figure.

If you haven’t had a chance to check out the new line of Nikon optics, I’d highly suggest you visit their Web site and take a look. You can find all the specs you would ever want to know there.