Murph still haunts me.

Ahhh... yes. Finally Ole Nimrod is back in the saddle again. The gimped up wrist is back to 80% and its time to rock and roll. I have two weeks of bow season to catch up on. Unfortunately my time off seems to have left Murph bored out of his minuscule gourd. He is back to his annoying antics... worst I have seen in a few years.

Getting a late start on the season has really set me back. I am fighting to catch up to where the deer are and what they are doing. My brain is still in early season mode even as the weather and deer are firmly into mid-season movements. Didn't think it was going to be as big of a challenge as it is.

As season got closer to Halloween, I got closer to the deer. It was really neat and odd at the same time. First time in a long time, dare I say ever, I was actual doing the right thing, and nearly in the right places to intercept the deer. Considering I rarely find myself at the same place as the deer I am happily astonished. I have not closed the deal, and have since been forced to work to pay the bills, but nonetheless its almost like I know what I am doing this year.

About a week ago, I decided on sneaking out on an evening hunt on some public land not far from the house. I sweet-talked Yoop and she gave me a hall pass for a few hours. I loaded up my gear and set off to the honey hole down the road.

Things had been going so smoothly, I had nary a thought about old Murph. The thoughts I did have were fleeting... mostly thinking not to think about him. As I neared the honey hole, I checked a few nearby parking spaces to see who else was out taking their chances. I smiled when I noticed no one else around. The deer were all mine to not get close to.

While I was gimped up, I had been doing a lot of scouting using aerial and topo maps. Each time I would look at the there were two spots that stuck our like sore thumbs where deer should be, but likely weren't. I was going to check out one of them on this hunt to get a feel of how the deer were using it.

I pulled into my parking space and started the transition from Ole Nimrod to Predator Nimrod. As I opened the sleds rear hatch, I noticed something odd. My bow and quiver were not to be found. As faithful readers of the Diaries, you know how thorough Ole Nimrod is. I never look over the tiniest detail, unless I am in a hurry or there is outside influence.

I hurried back to the Nimrod Ranch. On the way I called Yoop and asked her to look for the missing bow and quiver. Its not too hard to lose, a classic green Fred Bear Kodiak Magnum and quiver with 3 cedar shafts crowned with red stain and fletched with 2 red and 1 white 5 inch feathers. Not something you will drop in the woods and loose.

After checking, Yoop told me they were sitting where I had left them. I quickly let her know there isn't a chance in the world I left them there. I remember very cloudily that I carried them out of the house and put them in the back of the sled. I wonder if they grew legs and arms and sneaked out of the Sled into the house. Or did something else happened?

I didn't have time to figure it out. There were some deer that needed to be hunted and a Nimrod that needed to hunt some deer. I tossed the bow and arrows into the Sled and scouted off to the woods.

As I reached the parking lot entrance, I noticed something I didn't see before. Probably cause it wasn't there. In the middle of the road, about 50 yards past the parking lot was a nice mature doe standing in the middle of the road. I was a bit miffed, as she was walking right toward where I was planning on hunting.

After seeing the sled, she decided to change her plans. She glanced toward me, showed me her middle hoof and then waived her tail good bye.

I geared up and sneaked off into the woods. 20 minutes late and upset about scaring the game way before even stepping foot into the trees. Alas, no worries.. there is more than one deer in them there woods.

I reached the secret spot after tip toeing through the over grown pine tree hedge lines for 15 minutes. Not thinking about how I would have been ready for the doe if someone hadn't taken my bow and quiver out of the Sled; I readied my faithful stool for my sit and I sat. It was then I noticed one of the three legs of my stool were broken. I checked but there was not anything red neck engineering could do to incorrectly repair the offending leg. I snuggled into a small tree and waited. Aside from frustration and incessant harassing, and broken stool nothing more came from that sit.

A few days later, after making a grocery run for the Nimrod Ranch, plans were made for a hunt on the family land. Yoop and Munda were going to wait for Monkey to get off the bus after his day at the institute of higher education and Nimrod was going to run to base ops to get a jump on the hunt. I made a quick stop at base ops, hit the head and then got cruised over to the family land.

After the preceding fiasco, I think I double checked my gear before leaving the ranch. When I got to the woods, and started the transition to Predator Nimrod I had another sinking feeling. You know the feeling, like something is missing and it will ruin your whole day. I finsihed suiting up and grabbed my bow.

You ever have on of those days where you have everything planned out and halfway through realize you forgot something? Me either. But as I grabbed for my bow I realized it was not in the Sled. Fool me once shame on me. Fool me twice and label me a fool for life.

I made the transition back to Ole Nimrod and set back off to base ops. More thana little upset, I was about to throwing in the towel for the nights hunt. I checked my wallet, thinking a stop at the local daddy pop store was in the cards. Finding Yoop had once again raided the money section, the shiny new small game license caught my eye.

The nimrod mind shifted gears. Someone once told me when life gives you lemons, squirt them in the eye of your enemy- so I made it back to base ops, grabbed Grey Beards old 22 rifle and set back off. Mud and I have noticed an a large population of tree rats, and if you recall I have a debt to settle with at least one.

I sneaked loudly into the woods and found a tree. Cleared the leaves from around it and sat down. I loaded up the 22 and waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. After a bit it became clear. Murph had taken all of the tree rats out for a little bow shooting at the Ranch.

Uh oh... not in bow season

Short and sweet this time around. Doc and Yoop have decided the nagging, sharp constant pains in my wrist are forcing me into a hiatus from bow hunting. The gist of it is my wrist is either broken or not working right.

I am still not very happy but when Yoop makes threats that I can't say on here... I know she means business.

So for now, I am gimped up, depressed and stuck wearing a brace... and not shooting or hunting.

Not often I say this but life isn't the greatest right now. But it could be worse. Hope to get out a few times with my camera... oh wait, my zoom lens took a dump to. Life is grand.

Camera hunting with Red

Welcome to the madhouse. Since the last entry, Yoop, Murph and Doc have been in cahoots and succeeding in putting Ole Nimrods bow season on hiatus. Seems they think some minor hand pain that gets progressively worse is a good reason not to shoot a bow. They also don't believe the old adage “If pain is good, extreme pain is extremely good.” Makes me wonder what kind of wimps Americans are turning into.

I was doing my best to not go to see Doc, cause I knew what Doc would say. Yoop made an appointment with Doc and made specific threats to me. I pondered the threat versus going to see Doc. In the end, I felt it was best to give into Yoops demands. I went and surprise, surprise no shooting the bow for a few weeks. Wonderful way to start the bow season.

The following weekend, the Mud crew came out for some early bow season hunt. With Ole Nimrod gimped up... forced on the injured list... taking a hiatus from hunting, however you want to put it I am not able to enjoy fall fully. Since Mud had specifically taken time off to correspond to my weekend off, I felt obligated to participate some how. More on that shortly.

Prior to me being broke, Mud and I had discussed moving our stands to correspond to our current miscalculation of the deer movement for this season. Since Mud is much more of a monkey than I am, he is usually the one to do climbing work. I used my good hand and Mud used his monkey skills.

My stand is in a new bad spot and Muds stand is in a new nearly good spot not far from where I bladed one a few years back. After playing stand switcharoo the ol' wrist was feeling just dandy.

I showed Red how to use the old fashion, non motorized weed whacker and set her off to clear a path to my new bad stand. Checking periodically she was doing great. Winging the cutter back and forth. From a distance she seemed to be enjoying the work.

I did what I could to help Mud finish securing my new bad stand. Once done, we went and checked on Red. I asked her how she was doing. She stopped, leaned on the cutter and stated “this is pretty hard work.” I agreed with her and explained to her I didn't want to bring a power whacker cause of the noise and smell . I left out the part about me forgetting the gas power whacker at the Nimrod Ranch.

Once we were finished we returned to baseops and hung out... me bored out of my mind. Something was on TV, I peeked at my email on the computer.

Finally the clock got close enough that we started to get ready. The game plan for the evening was Mud perching in my new bad stand and Red and I taking Muds pop-in-up blind near Muds nearly good spot stand with my camera with no zoom lens. Great plan.

I loaded everything on my back, I think Red tossed in a garden tub somewhere. Still trying to figure out why when I add one kid to my hunt I quadruple the amount of stuff I bring. Anyone mathemagicians out there please let me know how that works.

We walked with Mud to the corner of the field, we waited a little bit so he could get in the new bad stand. Our thought was if we bumped any deer on our way in they may go to him. Either we didn't or they didn't. Not sure which is the correct answer.

As Red and I stepped off into the thick cover, I began to talk about why I was doing what I was doing. Trying not to touch trees to control scent; not stepping on small sticks and twigs. As we walked I caught myself grabbing trees and stumbling onto numerous sticks. I quickly told mentioned to her, do as I say, not as I do.

Then I asked "How many deer do I shoot?"

She sheepishly replied, "not many." The correct answer even though she appeared uncertain if she should state it. I reassured her that it was correct but since I had been hunting for longer than her, I knew more. She seemed to agree but I had my doubts.

We slowly and not so quietly made our way to the backside of the Family Land. This area is a small ridge that overlooks the east end of the land. There are numerous game trails that cross back and forth.

The evening went well. I whispered Reds ear off about this and that. She spotted 3 different color phases of squirrels. I almost stepped on a tree frog. Not a bad time for two nuts sitting in a camo tent.

As the night crept on, I kept instilling my vast knowledge onto Red. She was soaking it all in one ear and then right out the other. At least she acted like she was listening. As I was talking about looking for parts of the deer, not the whole thing, she said "I think there's one right there."

I replied that it could be, try to move very little and just watch it. If its a deer it will move after a few minutes. About 30 seconds later she said "its still there."

I replied "Ok, has it moved?"

"No."

"Just keep watching."

About 15 minutes later I notice Red still staring the direction of the possible deer. I asked her if it had moved at all and she said "No, I have been watching it since I saw it. Hasn't moved a bit."

Holding in a chuckle, I said "Well just keep scanning the rest of the woods and check on it every few minutes, I bet its not a deer."

As daylight turned into dark, we both spotted a few movements we thought could have been deer. I quietly told Red what I had seen and she said she has seen it also. The movement was in the thickest nastiest cover the Family land has to offer. Ideal bedding area if I do say so myself. I mean if I was a deer I would want to sleep in there.

As the day ended, we both were seeing movement that sure looked like deer. We could never get a clear look at what it was and just as the sun set the movement stopped.

A short time later, I was just about to pack up when Mud called my phone. I turned to Red and asked "Do you think he got one?"

I answered the phone asking if he had seen anything. He said he hadn't and was ready to go. I told him we were packing up and would meet him out at the corner of the field.

I packed and packed and packed and packed and packed. I didn't keep track but I am certain I carried out more than I carried in. Red and I made it out of the wood lot without any incident.

As we meet up with Mud, he asked if we kicked up any deer on the way out. I said no, we were being as quiet as we could be but didn't see anything. Seems as he approached the corner of the field there was a large commotion in the thickest nastiest cover on the family. Turns out Red and I did see something in the thickest nastiest cover on the family land. Too bad whatever it was holed up before we could see it.

All and all it was a great night. Red did awesome, nary a whine or whimper. We had brought a book for her to read in the event a case of severe boredom set in but the book never came out of the bag. I think she was concentrating to much on the cluster of leaves she thought was a deer.

Until next time, keep your feathers dry and heads sharp.

A New Season of Bow Hunting Is Here

Its that time of the year again. The most glorious time of the year. When God was creating times of the year, he set Fall a side and made it his special work. There is nothing about Fall that is not great.

The first relief from the summer heat, the crops stop growing as the they get ready to be harvested. Bear hunting, elk hunting, fall turkey hunting, small game hunting, fall trout and salmon runs. I think I covered it all. Oh wait... I knew I missed something... DEER HUNTING. How could I forget the greatest of the great? At least the greatest of the great we can do on a regular basis in Michigan.

October brings cooler temperatures, colorful leaves, nippy frost covered mornings, and bow hunting. What more could a Nimrod ask for? Besides Mud taking Murph home like he was supposed to, a new sled, a woring tree stand, a large plot of land but I digress.

The hunt is on and I am working. Mostly anyway. I made it out for opening morn, even if briefly. Spent the part of daylight in the woods as night faded into day. Or is it day scared away night? Either way I was there.

You often read how the woods come alive as the sun rises and warms the air. Not this day. It was a clear cool night, and as the sun brightened everything below it, the woods remained quiet. So quiet the only living creatures I saw during my sit was a red tail hawk and a cottontail rabbit.

And no. The Hawk was not eating the rabbit, not that I saw anyway.

Overall it was a great sit. A little short but it was great to be back in the woods with a bow in hand. Was even better since Murph slept in and wasn't nearby to play any of his antics.

I will part with the idea that its on. Oh yea, for certain its on and there are many Nimrod memories waiting to be had in the near future.

Early Season Antics

Short intro... welcome back... lets get to it.

The last few years the DNR has opened a "Early Antlerless Season," commonly referred to as the Early Doe Season. Well, it is unless you shoot a button buck then, you're glad its "Antlerless" not "Doe." The season is 5 days in mid September, before the youth and disabled Veteran hunts.

This season, I am going to be able to go hunting 2 nights out of 5 days. Great percentage there eh? I won't complain, at least I get twice!

First sit came the first night of the season. After Monkey got off the big yellow machine, Yoop got him and Munda ready for the trip to base ops. I was stuck in a boss meeting and after beating our heads together, getting little accomplished I rushed home. Grabbed the Blunderbuss, jumped in the Shagin' Wagon and set off for base ops. Yoop had done a good job, Monkey and Munda were ready to rock when I got home.

We got to baseops, made a quick change and hopped in Gray Beards Green Goblin. Started her up and took of for the family land. Pulled into the muddy, picked cornfield, and thought better about just turning around in the mud. The Green Goblin is a beast, but a 2 wheel drive beast. Grey Beard would not take kindly to me burying it in to the axles in the field, even if his boots never got dirty. So I tender footed it into a safe, solid parking spot.

Started the Nimrod pre-hunt rituals that I had not done in way too long. I fell right into the groove. Took off my boots to put on knee high rubber boots. Then realized my rubber boots were still in the cab of the Green Goblin. I hobbled stocking foot to get them out and put them on. Feet were already wet and muddy though. Grabbed the blunderbuss out of its case then set off for the stand.

This ladder stand was placed late season last year by Mud and I. I remember thoroughly thinking through where I wanted it and why. I was eager to get in and see if my hard work would pay off. Tonight the wind was out of the north west, which is an odd directions, but worked perfectly with the stand. I sat down about 5pm and had only until 7:30pm to hunt. Had to get Monkey home to bed for his day at the institute of higher education.

It was a misty, gloomy, breezy night. The night was uneventful. I did get a visit from the monster squirrel that nearly attacked me last season ( see it here: http://nimroddiaries.blogspot.com/2009/10/2009-bow-opener.html). He didn't realize I was in the tree as he wandered around gathering his nuts.

The next hunt, came the next night. The preparation was identical to the night before. As I scanned back and forth, forth and back, I realized that who ever had placed the ladder stand was a fool. Only had one clear shooting lane, and couldn't easily see the main crossing over the creek. I have a meeting with the fool to discuss his choice in stand placement.

After a few hours of back and forth and forth and back, my eyes were getting tired. Really tired. I decided not to waste a fine night in the woods. I tightened the safety strap and started checking my eye lids for holes. Not finding any, I fell into a trance where I got a cat nap and still maintained uninterrupted vigilance of any approaching deer.

As the sun set, I realized the deer were not playing along. As I watch God's great sunset I came out of the trance and started thinking about food. Yoop had some pizza waiting for me at baseops. Pizza and a cold daddy pop sounded pretty good.. but pizza would have to do.

While the taste of the cold cheese, chewy crust, overly sweet sauce danced in my head, I was nearly knocked out of my stand by a loud, menacing snort. The noise came from behind me and caught me so off guard, I was glad I had tightened by safety strap before the siesta. I slowly turned, expecting to see Murph with a dumb grin on his face, but instead I was greeted to a waving white tail.

Huh.. the deer did want to play... just not under the rules that I had set. I grabbed my blunderbuss, gathered my things and went home. I don't play well when others make the rules.

Fathers Day

Welcome back to the diaries. Spring has quickly turned into summer, wet soggy summer around Nimrod's land. But ya know... some guy wrote a song about rain.. its a good thing.

Since the last adventure into the jungle I have shied away from the creek. Things at work and in life have been keeping the Nimrod clan busy as a one legged mule at a man kicking contest. We have managed a few wild excursions but time and laziness, mainly the later, have prevented me from updating the diaries. Feel free to play mule at the man kicking contest the next time you see me.

First we will discuss the Fathers Day fishing expedition we had. Mud and I conjured up a brilliant idea to take Red and Monkey out for a special trip. There wasn't anything exceptionally special about the trip it just coincided with Fathers Day.

Mud and crew loaded up the Mud machine, SS Mud and all, and headed to baseops. I was stuck working the night before. I had planned to squeeze in as much beauty sleep as I could. Yoop quickly pointed out that no matter how much I got it wouldn't help. With the limitation of having to be at a Cub Scout leader party early evening, I decided to forgo most my beauty sleep. When I got up, I can say with certainty, the lack of beauty sleep didn't hurt. Didn't help either but we won't go there.

We loaded up the Shaggin Wagon and made our way to baseops. Mud and Red were ready when we arrived. Monkey and I weren't. After a pit stop and some sun block for Monkey, we all loaded up in the Mud Machine and set off for the lake.

The SS Mud was following us nicely on the trailer. We got to the lake where the SS Mud made her maiden voyage for us. Mud back her into the channel. He kept going back and back. Soon I feared the Mud Machine would get stuck. I signaled him to stop and man handled her off the trailer into the water, wondering where the 10+ inches of rain we had gotten in the last few weeks had gone.

The SS Mud is a fine vessel. Four bench style seats. Well, three Bench style seats and miniature seat at the bow. Mud was on the bench in the stern. Moving forward Red had the next bench and then Monkey. As you've prolly figured out, I was left crunched on to the miniature seat at the bow.

Mud used the electric motor to get us out of the channel and the gas motor fired right up, this time. We move to a sunken island to the north end of the lake. I helped Monkey ready his pole. While I retired his hook on, I told him to dig into the bucket for a worm.

Since I had worked evenings leading up to this adventures, Monkey and Yoop had collected worms out of the back yard at the Nimrod Ranch. Over a few days they had captured about half of an one gallon ice cream bucket. The worms were housed in thea gallon ice cream bucket, in the Nimrod family fridge until we took them along for the adventure of (to end) their life.

Mud and I found a spot we thought would be good and went to anchor. While the SS Mud is a fine vessel, I blame any accessories on Mud. Anyway we each took our anchor and plopped it in the water. As I was feed the rope down, I heard Mud say “the rope is too short.” Rather I thought I heard him say it. As I got the end of my anchor rope, I turned to him and said “its too deep for your rope.”

“Yea, mine too,” he replied.

“Think your gonna need more rope next time,” I proffered.

He replied with a look fit for a wife mad at her husband.

Just then Monkey squealed that he caught a fish. I coached him to reel it in and a short time later he landed the first fish of the day. A nice perch. A bit on the short side, say three inches long at most, but the boy was as proud as a hen who just laid an egg.

We toured the lake, moving from point to point in search of fish. We kept moving, not cause we wanted to; it was because we couldn't stay in one spot cause of the short anchor ropes. I didn't mind, I only reminded Mud once or ten times.

We approached an area where on the maiden voyage yielded us a nice catch of specs. Red caught nice nice 12 inch bass. That was her first bass ever. She had caught one before but insisted this was the first one ever. We messed back and forth, but the discussion ended with it being her first, but not her first all at the same time.

It was a good day on the lake. Which as always beat a good day at work, or at the mall or doing yard work, or one of many on a long list of things that are less enjoyable than fishing on Fathers day with the kiddos.

Stay tuned for more entries. Yoop played the mule and I really need to finish the summer entries before the fall hunting season kick off.. soon enough Nimrod will be back in the woods, Kabekona (or Kodiak Mag) in hand. Chasing the wily whitetail.

Hand fishing the jungle.

Welcome back.. I hate how Spring comes, ya make grandiose plans and they get interrupted by life. Mainly family but Life in general. Life is to my plans like Murph is to the execution.. not good.

Midday, while Monkey was at his institute of higher education and Yoop and Munda were doing midday girlie things, Ol Nimrod set off for a quick adventure.

We had bunches and bunches of rain over night, to the tune of 3 to inches. Once Lake Nimrod in the front yard soaked in, my mind turned to a small creek nearby. Heavy rain, run off, brook trout... eating the increased amount of food.. oh yea!!

Rushing out the door, I grabbed my swampers and bug spray then set off to the creek. The sled is waiting for repairs; more accurately waiting on me to get around to replacing some parts. So it was the 2 wheel drive monstrosity Yoop has under her ownership. The old Yoopmobile decided to call it quits on us during a trip back from Yooperland. After a long and hard search we found the perfect replacement.

The new beast has everything but the kitchen sink and transfer case and fuel efficient engine and driver side rear door. It does have some very comfy seats, lots of room, neat over head interior running lights, a radio (major improvement for my sanity on that one) and a bed. Yep a bed. Would be the perfect hunting and fishing rig if it had a transfer case, but I will have to be content with a bed instead.

Anyway, I set off from the house in the Shaggin' Wagon. With in a few minutes I was at the parking area of the creek. I looked at the water and realized I should have brought my chest waders not swampers. I grabbed the fly rod, soaked myself in some skeeter dope and set off toward the creek.

The trail is not new, its actually rather old. I think its where the Indians used to park their cars when they came fishing before the white man invaded their land. Yet once I got about a foot into the trail I could barely make it out.. it was a jungle. Spring was certainly here and the warm wet weather had done its work. Everything was green and thick. Nearly impenetrable. I worked my way through the knee high weeds, using the fly rod as a machete.

I searched back and forth for a spot to cast from the shore but there were no places open enough to cast. I checked the depth with my pole and found it a little too deep for my swampers.

I tossed the line out and it quickly got caught is some deadfall. Tried it again and the line wrapped around a branch above me. I took one step into the water to clear the overhead limbs and was reminded about the depth of the water when the cool creek water filled my swampers. I decided a few hand thrown casts would count as a day fishing and gathered my gear then headed back to the Shaggin' Wagon. I reached the beast, took off my swampers and watered a nearby wild flower. Packed up my stuff and called it a day. Two hand tossed casts, that never reached the water, were more than enough to call it a good day fishing.