This year at camp we had four of us: David, Don (the new guy), Skip and myself. There were no antlerless permits this year in Northern Wisconsin so we were hunting for bucks only. This is very unusual for us in that most years we can literally shoot as many does as we see and are willing to buy tags for. But because of two harsh winters and political pressure, all that opportunity was taken away from us this year. We'd just have to wait for something with horns or go home sad. I'm very glad to say that I did not go home sad.
I got up about 4:30, made breakfast for the crew, got dressed and headed out for my favorite Blueberry Swamp stand arriving at about 6:30. Legal hunting was about 7:00. I climbed up, settled in and began the wait. The wind was light out of the west, perfect for this stand on the east side of the swamp. I always say, "if you spend enough time in that stand you will see a deer". Fortunately, this was true this year as well.
At about 9:30 I noticed movement through the trees, way out to the east. Two deer, one bigger than the other moving from the north to the south. I got my Ruger American bolt action .308 up but never saw them again through the scope. Since there were two of them and one was bigger it probably was a doe with her fawn. They must have turned and headed away to the east since I never saw them again.
Then the wait continued in earnest. I sat, and sat and sat some more. About 11:00 I was getting hungry so was waiting for a train to come through so I could open up my noisy swivel bucket seat where I stowed my thermos of chicken noodle soup and ham with cheese sandwich. The stand is a few hundred yards from a very busy train track. I always wait for the train to come by before opening up the bucket so the noise of the train will cover the "CRACK" of the bucket lid opening and closing. The trains had come by about hourly today so I didn't think I'd have to wait long for lunch. Of course there was no train until about 12:30. But the soup and sandwich really fit the bill and I was renewed for an afternoon of more sitting and waiting.
Three more hours now passed of me just sitting and constantly scanning the woods around me, trying to keep my movement to a minimum. Finally at about 3:30 I saw some movement to the south and west of me. Up the hill, south of the swamp there was a deer moving through the trees! The trees were too thick to tell buck or doe yet but I felt confidant I'd get a better look at it soon. When it's head was behind some trees I got my gun up and actually had the cross hairs on it's chest through a small clearing at one point but I still hadn't seen any antlers yet so I dare not pull the trigger.
After a short wait that felt like forever, the deer slowly moved down the hill towards the swamp. I was watching through my scope waiting for it to step into the open where I'd be able to identify gender and maybe get a shot if it was a buck. Well the deer stopped just before stepping into the open and my heart skipped a beat when I he put his head past the last tree and I saw antlers. It's a buck and a nice one!
I had no shot onto his body because of the trees but I watched as he stuck his nose up into air and sniffed the wind for any human smell. I was very glad for the west wind blowing my stink away from him and was mentally urging him on: "come on, come on, take a step forward!" Finally after he felt it was safe he took a step forward and immediately I had the cross hairs on his chest and squeezed off a shot. He went right down into the snow and never got up again. After nine hours of patiently waiting, I had my deer down!
He was a big bodied eight pointer. I field dressed him and then realized there was no way I was going to drag this deer out of the woods on my own. Every direction from where he was laying was up hill and this was around a two hundred pound deer. I went back to the hunting shack to get some help, hopefully help on a tractor. A neighbor, Nate, happened to come by to see how we were doing as I walked up to the shack . I said; "I have a big buck down at the Blueberry Swamp, and everyone else is still hunting and Charlie is out of town. Can you help?" "Sure, be glad to", he said. His little brother was with him so the three of us climbed on Charlie's tractor and we drove on over. There was no way we were going to get the tractor through the heavy trees to the swamp so we got as close as we could up on the hill and started the walk down. When we walked up to the deer, now in the dark, Nate took one look, turned with a big grin on his face, stuck out his hand to shake mine and said, "that's a bruiser of a deer, Wayne!". I had to admit that he was and that's how this deer got his name; "The Bruiser". It was quite a workout for the three of us to pull him up the hill to the tractor but we did and got him home.
Weeks later when I got the antlers back to Minneapolis and boiled the hide off the skull I was able to compare the rack with the others on the wall. I now realize that "The Bruiser" was the second biggest deer I've ever taken. Not as big as "The Biggest Buck of My Life" of 2003 but bigger in mass than the nine point "West of the Blueberry Swamp Buck" of 2005. A very good year of deer hunting, I think.
