One of the best weekends of hunting I ever had was at my family property on Cat Island in St. Francisville, Louisiana. I was accompanies by my good buddies Squeak and Matt. We arrived on Friday afternoon at midday. We rode the property on four-wheelers scouted some spots, and baited fields that we planned on hunting for the weekend.
The first night it was around 30 degrees and the wind was blowing hard. The cold weather was a great sign for hunt, but the wind was not to our advantage. All of us were in the stand and had been texting back and forth on what we had seen. I saw a big deer off in the distance but didn't have a shot. 30 minutes before dark, Squeak sends me a text that says, "Pigs!" Before I could reply with, "Put your phone down and shoot you idiot." I heard a shot. I then get a text from Squeak that the pig was down in the field. I hopped down off my stand and rode over to see what was going on. Squeak had shot a 75 pound sow. This is the perfect eating size pig. I dropped Squeak and his pig off at the skinning barn and went to pick up Matt.
I had Matt fire up the grill and I began cleaning the pig. By this point the temperature was around 26 degrees. The next part of this story was one of the manliest things I have ever done. As I am cleaning the pig I hand the meat to Matt, which he puts directly on the grill. The meat never even got cold, and talk about fresh! We feasted on the pig's tenderloin around an open fire, and headed to bed fired up about our hunt's early success.
The next morning it was still cold. The temperature was around 23 degrees. I dropped off Squeak and Matt at their stands and headed to mine. I had just got in my stand and put a bullet in my gun when I heard a shot. I knew it was Matt because of the direction it came from. We had a late start that morning and it was already legal shooting light by that time. I immediately unloaded my gun, packed up, and rode over to see what had happened. Matt had dropped a huge doe in the field. I ran Matt and his deer back to camp and helped him skin it out. I had the deer in the ice chest by 7:30 and began cooking breakfast. "What a hunt!" I was thinking to myself. Two kills in two hunts is a rare thing. The pressure of taking an animal was off, and we enjoyed the rest of the day by drinking coffee and telling stories by the fire.
Saturday night was just as cold. We all three got on the stands early because of the great weather. It was getting pretty dark and I hadn't seen a thing. I looked up from the book I was reading and there were three does standing in my field. "It's my turn" I thought. The wind was blowing from my back towards the deer, and they were acting skittish. I knew I needed to make a quick shot before they left. I raised my gun, cocked the hammer, and they began to walk out. I put my sights on the last one and fired. I was sure that I had hit her, but she was moving so I didn't know if I had struck her clean. She ran off so went to round up the boys to help me look for her. By the time we got back to the field it was 17 degrees. It was one of those deep, wet, bone-chilling cold nights. I went to the spot where I shot her and there was no blood. This is a hunter's worst nightmare. My buddies had made excellent shots on their animals, and I did not want to be the odd man out. I started to worry, but I knew that I had hit her. I began tracking her hoof prints, and about 45 minutes later I was ready to give up. Then I heard the three words every worried hunter wants to hear, "I found blood!" This speck of blood could not have even covered a dime.We followed the scarce blood trail for a little over a mile. An hour later I had found her. I was soaked from head to toe in sweat, but I didn't care. We had found her and I didn't miss. I had to drag her out through briars and thick brush but nothing could stop me at this point. We got back to the camp, cleaned her, and packed up for the ride home the next morning.
We had done it, three animals in three hunts. Every time we get together we talk about it. It was a great hunt and I was so glad I got to share it with friends. This might seem like small potatoes compared to most people's hunting experiences, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. There is nothing better than a good weekend at the deer camp.
Squeak and his pig.
Matt and his doe.
Me at one of my favorite places in the world, the deer camp.
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