I’m not afraid of the dark when I’m sitting in the light. I suspect most people feel the same way. But I’d be lying if I said I’ve never been afraid in the dark before. There was that time a screech owl tried to murder me…. that’s happened almost twenty times now. Then there was the time that I visited a city at night. That was very scary. There have been other times, too, but my first morning hunt of the year tops them all.
I’ve had the pleasure of knowing many bucks over the years. Their pictures take up space on my phone and cover the walls in my office. I’ve even had the pleasure of meeting a few them. Every detail of our relationship is easily recalled in my mind at a moment’s notice. I know I’m not alone here. Why is that? Remembering the items my wife told me to pick up at the grocery store only minutes before is next to impossible. But that big buck I saw three days after the season ended back in 2001 has stayed with me to this date.
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.
My increase in concern over how much time I’ll have to hunt this fall is inversely related to the decrease in time until Baby Biebel arrives. My concern hit an all-time high this past weekend when I made my first scouting trip of the season. It’s hard to adequately describe the feelings of anticipation that I feel when standing over a pile of deer poop in an acorn infested stand of oaks. Knowing Mr. Big roams through this area, even if at night, is enough to get my heart rate up. That, and the mile-long hike to get there.