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.
Time is running out on the 2016 Vermont Muzzleloader season. My doe tag is still unfilled, something that has me walking around looking like an angry emoticon all day and feeling like an Angry Bird that wants to topple my son’s Lego creations. A doe tag should not be this hard to fill.
It’s not like I haven’t had chances. I’ve already written about the opening day fiasco (read that here), but as the week has progressed my luck has only gotten worse. Let me be clear here, I am not complaining at all. I’m crying. There, I’m glad that’s out in the open. Now we can be honest with each other.