'Tis the season to be jolly, fa, la, la, la, la... 

What?  You ask.  Kris Kringle?  Already? 

Heck no.  The answer would be - Hunting Season.

The whole country is chugging Pepto-Bismol while suffering from a humongous national hangover following our orgy of lending.  The worried whispering at Starbucks includes a gnawing fear of depression-era breadlines.  Financial markets have plunged so low on Wall Street that the only thing that can leave a deposit on a shiny new BMW is a pigeon.  

I am beginning to think that I may just possibly be reduced to subsistence living.  So I'm going hunting.  (Note to self - expand the garden next year)

Don't laugh.  It might be a good time for some of you to brush-up on your hunter-gatherer shtick.  If things get any worse try buttering a slice of this and eating it.  Come to think of it, if you had enough of those signs you might be able to construct a pretty respectable Hooverville. 

Speaking of bread and circuses - isn't Sarah Palin fetching when she struts and rages about the elitist media?  I got to thinking - what if she carried a whip to complement those stiletto heels?  That would really get the crowds all sweaty and lathered-up.  Rallying the base as they say.  Alas, the McCain Campaign doesn't listen to me.  Another good idea down the drain.

Of which I am reminded that the media elite told me that popular Joe Plumber guy was well-off.  I am envious. 

Now, a plumber couldn't possibly be an elitist.  After all, they come home from work every day covered in, well, you know, the stuff that travels downhill through pipes.  I cringe whenever I get a bill from a plumber.   Therefore, a plumber could factually be well-off. 

Just watch - if Joe lands a lucrative contract to do plumbing supply endorsements for Home Depot he will become wealthier than the Kohlers and his taxes will grow to the sky.  That will teach him a lesson.  He won't be so quick to open his mouth next time.

Since my 401(k) couldn't purchase a pipe wrench I wonder if I'm going to get a redistribution of his vast wealth? 

For this election I can only hope.

I digress.  Don't you just hate it when politics creeps into the discussion? 

Only thirteen more days folks.

Back to the topics at hand - hunting and the creepy apparition. 

I've been regularly relocating a trail camera to see what is out there.

I'm getting all kinds of pictures of deer.

It would seem the territory is crawling with deer.  

The recent appearance of different male deer is significant.

That would indicate they have begun to expand their home range.

They have romance on their mind.

That's a good sign.  

Very soon they're going to stop thinking so clearly - kind of like frat boys on the prowl - and they'll become more vulnerable to the stealthy bow hunter.  

The problem is that whenever I climb into a tree with my bow all I see are song birds.

Sigh.

Actually, that's not so bad.  If you can get a chickadee to alight on your shoulder that would be pretty cool. 

Seems like a long-winded path to get to what I captured, eh?

I fetched the memory chip from a game camera, replaced it with a clean one, went back to the house, and uploaded the pictures.  

Get a load of this-

I captured a picture of a what appears to be a shaggy or hairy creature.

Unlike the other creatures in the woods this one appears to be bipedal.

It also looks like it has a hunch back and shuffles along with a stoop.

It gives me the creeps.

How would you like to bump into this while walking in the woods after dark - alone?

Especially around Halloween?

Shriek!

What do you think it is?

Tom

Fall has arrived.

You're probably thinking - Doesn't this guy own a calendar to remind himself of when fall begins?

Let me explain.

It is more than just a date - it is a state of mind - a state of being. 

The colors in the tree canopy are spectacular - neon red for the maples, fluorescent yellow of the aspen, the brilliant gold of the tamaracks and deep maroon of the white oaks.

Skeins of migrating waterfowl have been filling the sky for weeks.

The cold evening heavens are alive with stars. 

You can see your breath when you go out at first light. 

Firewood has been stacked and the wood burner is getting daily use.

Today I had the game on the radio, a refreshing malt beverage on the work bench and I spent my Sunday afternoon in the machine shed cutting-up a deer.

In a man's world could it possibly get any better than that?

This weekend I learned that it can.

There is Man B Que.

Originating in Chicago - Man B Cue is a bar-b-cue for men only.  Rules are specific - meat eating and beer drinking are recommended.

For example there is Rule #6 - You must bring enough meat to share with MBQ attendees.  (Unless you killed it, then you can bring the one piece for yourself).

Don't take my word  for it - check it out.

Did you notice the Chicago MBQ Chapter's traveling trophy in the video clip?  Did you also notice that it doubles as a vessel for drinking shots?  Egad! 

Seems a member of our very own deer camp is now in possession of that sacred relic.

I am not making this up.

He's also our camp's youngest member and an accomplished marksman.

Seems he hosted a Chicago MBQ featuring grilled Wisconsin venison. 

I must admit that is quite a feather in his cap and a recognition deserving of mention - I would be talking about the trophy that you can apparently do shooters with - the marksmanship is a minimum requirement for deer camp admission.

Keep on grilling.

Tom

By the way - check out this pair of fellas that have been hanging around lately-

No deer quite yet-

Just a collection of sweaty, stinky, middle-aged guys working on their deer stands.

And getting ready for deer camp.

True-enough - we've not outgrown our desire to build tree houses.

I mean - really - can you blame us?

This is terrific fun.

Not for the purpose of reading Mad Magazine or a purloined Playboy like when we were youngsters - but to hunt the wily whitetail. 

The rest of you deer hunters know what I'm talking about - annual maintenance on that favorite deer stand that has been battered over the previous eight months.  Including sweeping out all of the raccoon scat.  Blech.

One of my personal favorite stands is in the picture below. 

Many a nap has been taken in this stand and many deer taken as well.

It was constructed from a dismantled and recycled Tosa deck. 

High winds clobbered it following last season's hunt.

With some big lag bolts and a large quantity of nails I think we're back in business.

For another season anyway.

Just for kicks I strapped a game camera to the tree trunk at the base of the stand just to see who's hanging-around. 

Here's what was photographed...

Tom

I'd bet one of the first thoughts through your head was:  

Whoa, Tom!  Aren't you getting ahead of yourself?

It is true that we've only just put the Independence Day festivities behind us.  Yet it is never too early to begin thinking about deer and deer hunting.

We've got a healthy herd of deer - a bit too healthy for my tastes - considering the thousands of dollars worth of damage they've caused munching on our trees.

With good nutrition and cover (yes, that would be our trees they are eating and hiding amongst) whitetail deer can reproduce at prolific rates.

Like this:

A doe in good physical condition will be bred at 6 to 9 months of age.  Translation:  A significant number of the female fawns born this spring will be pregnant by year-end. 

Wisconsin's bow season opens September 13th. 

That would be exactly 68 days from now.

Shoot straight and hunt safe. 

Tom