Track Soup

Track Soup

By Allan Olson

Well the first weekend of deer camp is over, and I have done nothing to help fill the freezer so far. I did freeze myself, however. By this time last year we had almost filled our limit of tags; I had attempted to fill mine twice, to no avail. All we had to show for our hunt this year was track soup – and that doesn’t taste very good.

The call to rise came early on Saturday morning, as my dad woke us up at 4:30 a.m., long before the crack of dawn. We devoured a hearty breakfast of French toast and sausage along with some wake-up juice. Soon it was time to don our hunting gear for the first time in a year. Several layers of clothing later, it was time to head out to the stand. I chose the stand where I had ended my hunt last year, just to see if maybe I could get lucky and the buck that I shot at last year might return for another dodge-the-bullet party. I finally left my post for the morning at 9:00, figuring my horned friend wasn’t keen on making his appearance yet. I headed to the house for some warmth, goodies and something hot to drink. I took my time trudging back, and still found I was the first one to surrender (which was not a surprise to me). I put some wood in the stove to keep the house warm, and found something to snack on.

That afternoon I took the same post again, with hopes that maybe the buck was ready to make an appearance. But as the sunlight faded from the sky, those hopes were dashed. I finally decided to give up and make my way toward the road. I was near the road when I thought I spotted a deer in the corner of the field peering out of the pines. I pulled my rifle up and peered through the scope, but I couldn’t pick it out. I put the rifle down and looked again with my eyes, certain something was there, but at 5:16 it was getting pretty dark. I repeated the process with the scope – still nothing. I took a step forward and – guess what? – there was a deer out there! I watched it bolt for cover right after I started moving. Well, at least I got to see something, I consoled myself as I continued toward the house. I met up with my oldest and youngest brothers and found that they had seen a few deer. My youngest brother said the one he spotted was a small spike buck so he passed it up. Of course, he got harassed for that, but such is life in our hunting party. When the rest of the party returned, we learned that dad had taken a shot at a running buck (apparently to no avail), while a cousin in-law also took a poke at one but missed as well.

I tried a different view on Sunday morning, but saw only birds, squirrels and other animals scurrying about their daily business. That evening I tried a different area entirely, a few miles away, but my big buck (or even a little one) still would not come out to play – at least in the daylight. It was a long ride home in the dark in poor travel conditions that evening, with the snow-covered roads allowing for speeds of no more than 50 mph. I probably averaged 45, and after I turned off toward home on the Scenic Highway, my speed was reduced a bit further, to about 40. Thankfully, I made it home in one piece. I was quickly greeted by the kids and, of course, Bob (the dog) was the first to greet me with his nose nuzzling my hand as soon as I opened the door of the vehicle.

This weekend, I am looking forward to more hunting; hopefully, the results will be better. We also have plans to celebrate Alivia’s sixth birthday.

Please be safe in the woods – wear your life jacket - your blaze orange, keep the kids safe, and remember to take a picture to preserve a lifetime of memories. Also please watch out for the buses that are transporting our children. Thanks for reading, and have a great week! For more of my columns visit: http://allan-crazykids.blogspot.com.