Deer Camp Chapter Two

Vile weather was forecast, so deer, hunters of same and spirits generally were all projected to be dampened. 

But it was actually a delightful morning.  Warmer than yesterday and with gentle snow starting around 9am.  Now, to stay in strict chronology I should begin with a quick look at the trail cam we set up to overlook the, er, leftover parts after we field dressed the deer from yesterday.  Of course we were expecting a wild Coyote Thanksgiving.  But instead we got fifteen pictures that all looked like this:

This of course is the little doe that the neighbors have been feeding all summer.  We've agreed that it is not to be targeted, and in fact I've seen it more than once right across the road from us.  I was a bit surprised that deer seem to have no qualms whatsoever about being near the dismembered parts of other deer.  Humans would be creeped out for sure.  But one must recall that lots of deer get clobbered by cars every day in Wisconsin.  Deer likely get accustomed to it.  "Hmmmm, wonder if that's Blanche?  Oh well."  Despite our benevolent attitude I don't think her loitering around the Open All Night Predator Buffet bodes well.

I sat in my stand for a pleasant three hour morning session and saw nothing.  I heard several reports from the general direction that Small Town Son was hunting and indeed he got a nice doe about an hour after sunrise.   I'll be moving my location over that way this afternoon, as the smarter deer -  and this does not include our pal above - are moving deeper into the woods.

For the historical record here's Small Town Son standing next to his deer.

For those of the non hunting persuasion I should mention that there are two kinds of hunters.  Some want only to bag bucks with large antlers.  Others, and we are of this class, want venison.  That being the case these big does - they're forest cows really - are what we are looking for.  I fear when I finally manage to shoot something it will be puny in comparison.  Well, at least I'll be able to brag about hitting a smaller target.....

PM update.  New stand has better visibility and lots of little squirrels to hold my interest.  30 minutes before the official end of shooting hours two deer sprinted past me.  I had the safety off and a deer in the sights for the first time....but it was not a shot that a novice should be taking. 

On the way back out of the woods we saw three more, all insolently aware that the failing light gave them a reprieve.  For at least another day.

Deer Camp - Chapter One

If you are coming in late, this is a chronical of our first ever family deer hunting "camp".  And for me my first ever hunting experience...at age 63.  

Big City Son turned up first.  We made targets from cardboard we had sitting around.  Note the accurate, empty thought balloon from the deer on the right.

We went to a public land spot a couple of miles from our intended hunting sites and blazed away with assorted artillery.  Mostly to encouraging results but I did have a tendency to grip the gun pretty hard as it has a wicked recoil.  I had a few rounds go low until I corrected for this.  

It got to the point that I just started shouting down range:  "Maybe next time you'll pay Big Tony when you're supposed to!"

Opening day 5AM.  The breakfast table is set with firearms, ammo, Kit Kats and a Hostess Product called "Zingers", a shameless Little Debby knockoff.

The view from my tree stand shortly after dawn.  Things had been eventful already.  Before the sun rose I heard a ferocious crashing directly behind me.  I did not dare turn around on the off chance that a - hopefully - giant buck might still be standing there.  Spoiler, he wasn't.  And right as the sun came up there was a riotous chorus of coyotes!  Howling, yipping and barking, they might just be smart enough to realize that deer opener means plenty of field dressing....and that's good eatin'.  Coyote Thanksgiving.

I saw three deer without a clear shot at any.  Besides, one was a runty little thing perhaps suitable for a Wednesday deer but not a Saturday morning one.

Big City Son had better luck.  Perhaps inspired by the continuous gunfire in his neighborhood he has developed a cool, steely eyed demeanor regards firearms.  He scored this very large doe at about 9am Opening Day.

Oh, and he's unwrapping a celebratory Hostess Zinger.  Perhaps a tradition is born?

The afternoon was less exciting.  I sat in my stand for hours on end as the sun went lower and lower in the sky.  Eventually it was nearly horizontal and bright orange so I thought it was a good occasion for a photo.  Yes, there are risks to taking a selfie while holding a loaded rifle in your free hand but it can be done if you are careful.

The other risk of course is that when you get back to the warmth of the cabin and are sitting contentedly by the fire.....you spy a deer hiding in the background!

Just kidding.

The Book of Deer

Under difficult circumstances we are going to attempt to launch a new family tradition in the fall of that most sour of years, 2020.  Deer Hunt.

I did not hunt growing up but raising a family of my own in Wisconsin all three boys developed an interest.  They hunt birds, deer.  Ooof, that time we had squirrel tacos.  But despite having a suitable up north place we've never made it a family affair.  Until now.

It's just time.  One son had been hunting with his in-laws but some fragile health on that side of the aisle means spending less time there is prudent.  Another son is living on the opposite side of the state and needs to get back to less civilized but far healthier climes.  And without robotics, travel and other diversions I'm frankly looking for things to do.  Time to get a hunting tradition started.  Hopefully the grand kid generation will step up in a few years, by which point I imagine I'll be relegated to camp cook or some such emeritus status.

And to record the Deer Hunting chronicles...

It's a blank book with a laminated cover.  Regular readers will recognize our trail cam photo of the most clueless deer in the world.

I expect the book will contain stand locations, reports of sightings, recipes both venison and non success vegetarian fare, and so forth.  One of the first entries will be a hand drawn map of our hunting spots as drawn by the five year old.

Updates as the hunt progresses....

Happy Hour in the Plague Year. Six of One, Several Dozen of Another.

Many years ago the legal drinking age and I both became 18 at about the same moment.  I was in that odd in between status.  Old enough to drink but still living at home for a few summers.  I enjoyed the occasional beer.  Still do, truth be told.

So I'd put some in the fridge now and again.  A six pack seemed to be no problem.  But if I indulged in the family tendency toward frugality and bought the more economical 12 pack my dad raised an eyebrow and in fact on one occasion said "That's more than I like to see."  Fair enough, his brother, my Uncle Ben, was a skid row alcoholic.  Not that he drank beer much.  From his occasional stays with us when no other option was available there were always a few hidden bottles that turned up later.  Vile, cheap, distilled poison.  I think my general aversion to whiskey and such stems from this.

Fast forward to 2020.  Wisconsin is hitting a tough stretch and my Better Half has decreed that visits to the store are to be minimized.  Today she sent me to the liquor emporium with orders to only return with at least a one month supply of "essentials".

Old habits die hard.  I think this is the first time I've ever needed a shopping cart for booze, other than a few times when we were laying in stock for family reunions, weddings etc.  But I soldiered on and accomplished my mission.  It sure felt weird. 

Ready for boredom and cabin fever.  At least thirst will not be added as a further hardship.

To be clear this is for both of us.  Neither the brandy nor the wine are to my tastes.  Regards the latter I had general instructions regards Sauvignon Blanc from a certain region of New Zealand.  With my remaining discretion I bought anything that mentioned monkeys on the label.

Trail Cam - Final Photos

I've enjoyed trekking about the nearby woods these past months putting up our trail cams to suss out the best places to hunt deer.  I can see the appeal of photo only hunting,  you do get that sense of wonder every time you see something unexpected.

It has been educational as well.  You get to see deer families growing up.  By November the spotted fawns of last spring are only a bit smaller than their mothers.  We have by the way been requested to not fire on the cute little deer family that lives just across the road.

Late in the season the "deermographics" change.  Does are sighted less often.  Bucks appear.  They've been off doing guy stuff somewhere all summer and fall.  Now it's mating season.  They are out looking for action.  What the does think of this is unclear.

Well its almost Opening Day and time for decisions on where to put our stands.  So some final pictures.  Presumably next week's entries in the "Hunter Gatherer" series will be me snapping a few from the stand while waiting for something to happen.  Perhaps while considering recipes for a Tofu Thanksgiving.

Closing time at the Mating Season Disco.  "Hey, baby, I'm a feelin' pretty....antlery".

One of my sons is a very accomplished marksman.  I send him pictures like this just to confuse him.

A bewildered elderly man searching for a trail cam he had placed in a particularly sneaky location..

Another "Doughboy" with Tree, Manitowoc Wisconsin

Less than 24 hours after finding an amazing new form of "Tree Shaped Tombstone" I found another one.  This "Doughboy" is in the Evergreen Cemetery of Manitowoc.  The condition is not quite as good, but it is still magnificent.

This is the grave of Private Otto Luecke.

As you can see, the right ear and the brim of his had have had some damage.  There is also a bit more overall weathering.  This makes it hard to read the inscription on the "stump" but it indicates he died in Manchester England.  I assumed he was a victim of the "Spanish Flu".  And I was right.

It is a sobering reminder that the Four Horsemen always ride in tandem.  The 1918 influenza pandemic killed many more than the shell fire and machine gun bullets of The Great War.

With the discovery of two essentially identical monuments it is clear that we are not dealing with a one off done by some talented and dedicated craftsman.  Somebody was creating and marketing these on a larger scale.  It is difficult to track them down with a standard Google image search, you just get buried under tons of more commonplace World War monuments.  But I have found at least two other specimens from other states.  I'd love to learn out more if anyone knows anything....

The fact that this was a commodity in no way detracts from their beauty.  You could not make something like this without considerable skill and passion for your work.  I'm sure the families appreciated it.

The Doughboy and the Tree

Bit of a longer post today.  The subject warrants it.

If I have limited time and am passing through a city I usually try to figure out where the "society" cemetery was.  That's where you find the most ornate tombstones.  Which is not to say always the most interesting ones.  But on this occasion I was on the edge of Manitowoc Wisconsin and noticed that Calvary Cemetery, a smaller place on the outskirts, was nearby.  I drove up and saw.....this.

A life sized World War I doughboy standing at parade rest next to an ornamental tree stump.  I'd never seen one before, never even heard of one.  It's amazing.  Check out the details!

The hand holding the rifle has fingernails.

The boots have distinct lacings.  The legs have that odd cloth wrap that was intended to keep the muck of the trenches somewhat at bay.  The toes of the boots have that odd "Ronald McDonald" look that I'm sure reflected reality.

Not just a canteen, but one with a canvas cover.

Even the rifle is shown in enough detail that it can be identified by type.  It is a so called "American Enfield", a British design rechambered for American ammunition.  It was in fact the most common rifle issued to American troops.  The tell tale clue is the distinctive front sights.

(since my experience digging at Hill 80 I've developed an interest in the history of Great War firearms.  A fabulous - and non political - source for this is C&Rsenal ).

A much weathered inscription on the top of the "stump" only gives the first name, Edward.  But it is in the plot of the Gerl family.  There is also an inscription on the front which gives the details of his death:

"Lost his life in the English Channel.  May 21, 1918."

The full story is HERE.  The short version is that he was a Manitowoc lad who had been working as a teacher before enlisting.  He was in an early draft sent overseas and was one of 53 American soldiers who died when the transport Moldavia was torpedoed in the English Channel by the German submarine UB-57.

There are many remarkable things about this monument.  The details of his death.  The absence of a last name.  But mostly the incredible detail.  My first thought was that this was a privately commissioned work, and I marveled that there was no artist's signature to be found.  I stared at the face, and it stared right back.  Was it based on the actual face of Edward Gerl?

Hard to tell, isn't it?  I was still pondering the question when I discovered the answer.  More on this next time.

The hunt for history as recorded in tombstones may seem a bit morbid, but it provides plenty of occasion for reflection on Life and Death.  And less commonly for wonderful surprises such as the Doughboy and the Tree monument I found in Calvary Cemetery, on the outskirts of Manitowoc....