Not much sleep was had the night before the 2017 New Hampshire Muzzleloader season opened. Excitement over what the morning hunt would bring, coupled with Oliver’s continued desire to hold fast to a different sleep schedule than normal humans, made it difficult to roll out of bed. To top it off, I still couldn’t shake the deep-rooted congestion that had taken up residence in my respiratory system. A weaker individual would have stayed home, but not this guy.
I have more trail camera pictures of bucks this year than I ever have before. Perhaps it’s an above average year, or perhaps I stumbled onto an area where the bucks have always been. Either way, I know where I’ll be on opening day of muzzleloader season in New Hampshire this Saturday.
I stumbled onto this area last year but didn’t place any cameras for fear they would get stolen. I spent a lot of time there last fall, and although I never saw a buck, my intuition kept telling me I was in the right spot. I’ve fallen for my intuition before, but this year my curiosity overruled my caution and I set up three cameras, each about 200 yards apart. My reward was lots of great pictures and new information that instilled enough confidence in me that I know I should continue hunting this area.
A lot has transpired since my last update, some of it even related to hunting. Each summer I enter each fall dreaming of hunting day in and day out until shooting Mr. Big. At this point in the season, I’d settle for being able to sleep long enough to dream. The arrival of Oliver Jacob Biebel late last week has derailed my hunting and sleeping schedule, but I’m not complaining.
It should come as no surprise that I blew my first opportunity at a deer this year, but after nine months of waiting for the opportunity, I don’t have any regrets.
New Hampshire archery season opened last Friday the 15th, and with it enough anticipation to distract a fellow from his duties at work. I must say, I was slightly more productive than I thought I’d be during the day and the afternoon couldn’t come soon enough. There would be no afternoon hunt for me, but I was able to get out long enough to pick a tree for my climber and get it set for the following morning’s hunt.
If there was one way to describe Rayna the best, it would be that her presence was always felt. If I was clearing snow from the driveway, she was there catching it as it shot from the snow blower. If I was mowing the lawn, she would drop a rock right in my path and force me to stop the mower. If Steph and I tried to watch a movie, she would sit in front of the TV and block our view. If I forgot to latch the bathroom door while doing my business, she would push her way in and expect a good head scratching while I was unavoidably detained. If she’d been able to talk, she’d have been an introvert’s nightmare.