DEC-A-2
A RETURN TO THE BALMY “WINTER” EASTERN SHORE TO SIT IN A
TREE
TO SEE NO DEER—BUT AN UNUSUAL REPEAT TARGET,
A VERY LONG WAY AWAY THROUGH THE DAWN FOG!
I drove out to Somerset county directly on Friday afternoon to see if I could arrive in time to sit in one of Bill Webster’s treestands for the dusk hunt. It has been so balmy warm that no deer have been moving. I had offered to stop to pick up David Schaefer to take him out, if he had come home to Salisbury for the weekend, but he had not, due to a crisis I heard about later. Having joined a fraternity, and having missed more than 90 classes this semester, he has decided that there would be no chance of his not flunking out, so he has decided to drop out and look into joining the Navy to get the structure he needs and knows he cannot impose upon himself. I learned all of this much later, as Craig was on call and had to remain near home to cover the call as well as having the long talk with David by phone.
I made it to the tree on time, all right, and at 4:00 PM I watched as a gentle dusk settled upon Somerset County, with only squirrels active. Oh, yes, there was one more species up and about—Mosquitoes! This is an unusual hazard of hunting season! I talked with Bill Webster and his brother-in-law Mike, each of whom have hunted every morning and evening and neither has seen a deer, let alone a buck, on their daily two hunts.
With even warmer weather predicted for the following day, I got up at three, thinking of all the things I smut do and schedule before the holiday season, not the least of which is the overwhelmingly complex task of correlating all the pieces of my year-end photojournalist’s letter for 2001. I drove through the warm morning fog, and watched as hordes of waterfowl poured into the Nanticoke River and marshes.
There would be no deer moving today either, I met Bill at the Vo Tech school gate, and we set out to walk to our treestands, without much hope for seeing any deer. I got into my stand and peered through the fog.
At 6:27 AM, with more light from the full moon than from the rising sun, I saw a distant blur in the fog. Under the blur were four feet. I looked through the binoculars and saw that it was either a fox or a turkey but too small to be a deer—and very far away in any case. I looked through the scope turned up to 10X. I estimated the target at well over 250 yards, and thought that since the .270 Browning was targeted in at 100 yards, I should shoot one body width or more above the fox—which I now realized it to be, as the large white spot on its tail showed when it dropped. I watched for a while through the scope. I then started doing some ballistic thinking. I have always estimated the “drop” in the bullet on the basis of the larger and heavier thirty caliber bullets I have shot form my .308 and .300 Win Mag. I have held high with spectacular success—including the big buck in Tioga County PA at .385 yards and the elk in Charity Basin at 1006 yards, and the Dall sheep at almost the same distance in the Brooks Range of the Arctic. I also remembered last year carrying the .270 on the elk hunt. I estimated the distance of a herd of elk cows at 300 yards or more when I saw them, and held two body widths above them in touching off. None was hit, and I was convinced that the shots went over them as they ran off at a very long range away.
The big advantage of the .270 is that it is a long-range very “flat shooting” round—a smaller bullet, moving much faster, so that there should be very little difference where it goes at 100 all the way out to four hundred yards. Therefore, for most practical purposes, in deer hunting, especially, aim right at where you want to hit, and do not try so hard to compensate for a bullet drop in this light fast round. I knew where the bullet went at 100 yards, just assume that it will be the same place from the muzzle way out at the range I was looking through this fog.
But, this was not a deer. The kill zone was a matter of a few inches. But, I can hit within those few inches with this remarkably accurate weapon at 100 yards, so why not at this distance?
I pulled down and looked right at the fox through the 10X Leupold scope. I lined up as thought the target was at 100 yards, settled the crosshairs on its chest right where it was hunkering in the grass, and let out a deep breath as I squeezed the trigger on a steady hold. At the roar of the rifle, nothing happened. I did not see anything running away, nor hear anything. Even with the Zeiss binoculars, I could not see what hat happened out in the far field.
I sat in the tree, and heard turkeys, but few geese, and no other shots. At 7:30 AM, Bill had had enough. I had been getting mosquitoes biting my hands and ears, and was even considering getting out my gloves to protect my hands, despite the fact that it was too warm for gloves. I elected not to, since I needed my hands free to swat the mosquitoes off my face. Bill had got a haircut yesterday, and the singing mosquitoes on his neck drove him out of the tree. He had seen no deer, but figured he had heard a shot form me, so he would come over to see what I was shooting at.
He asked, “Did you get a deer?” I said, “I have not even seen one of those species!” I got out of the tree. He said, “If you were aiming over in that far field, you don’t even know what you were shooting at, let alone have a chance of hitting it!” We walked over to the far field, neither one of us having any idea what we would find. To my great surprise, there, almost out of sight, lay one dead red fox, with a bullet hole right through his chest where I had aimed.
Bill was amazed. “Well, this one belongs to the .270” I said. Both Bill and I learned a bit of ballistics, since he also is shooting the .270 and has been convinced that he shot over the last deer he saw last year. I got out the new laser range finder, and focused back on the tree stand, which we had a hard time seeing, and by laser, the range was 324 meters.
So, having shot at two foxes in my life, both within the same week, the both of them are on their way to Parker’s Taxidermy. We picked up this fox and went to Princess Anne where all the streets are taped off by police readying the town for the annual Christmas Parade. We had a breakfast at the hotel Washington, where George himself had stayed back in the last days in which any action was seen around Princess Anne, and then left just before the parade and its homemade floats began to roll. I wandered along eastward to find Parker’s Taxidermy by feel, since it is in the middle of chicken farming country. I had made up a plate to identify the first fox I had carried in on Monday. It is inscribed as follows:
RED FOX
Vulpes vulpes
Convicted Chicken Thief, killed 9 of 11 Laying Hens
On Bill Webster’s Farm, Somerset County, MD
127 yards, .270 Browning single shot
November 26, 2001
Parker’s Taxidermy, Willards, MD
Glenn W. Geelhoed
I thought that the red-felt-backed rug I had ordered on Monday would make it easier for them to patch up the backside of the first fox'’ chest, where the .270 had opened him up like a muffin can. Bill could not believe that I had hit the second fox precisely in the same place, exactly where each was aimed. Since the second fox was further away, the damage was less, and a full mount might be possible. I told them to use their artistic imagination and make a mount of one of them and a rug of the other, and I will see what comes back. I made up a plate for the second one, as follows:
RED FOX-11
Vulpes vulpes
Pre-dawn foggy long shot at VoTech,
Somerset County, MD
December 1, 2001 6:27 A
Single Shot 324 meters .270 Browning
Parker’s Taxidermy, Willards, MD
Glenn W. Geelhoed
So, I have done my part to secure the Eastern Shore’s single greatest industry—the chicken raising business! I know Chester and Carol Jones will be proud!
I drove back to Cambridge with the windows down and the breezes cooling, watching kayakers in Church Creek off the Choptank River. When Craig came in form rounds, we took a quick drive over to Blackwater Refuge, and saw large flocks of snow and Canada Geese and a nutria posing for us on the muddy banks of the Bay.
Bill had invited me to come over for the one-hour hunt of the evening at the VoTech School, saying he was going, but without much hope of seeing anything. I told him I would try to get back home to start working on the chores that the deer season had interrupted, and I headed across the Bay Bridge. I was thinking of a large branch that has hit the roof at Derwood, doing no damage, but hanging suspended from another tree, and without any extension ladders, I will have to devise some kind of lasso to pull it down.
As I came in, my cell phone rang. It was Bill Webster. When I saw the number, I asked, “Well, did you get a big one?”
“Eight Point Buck!” he responded. “Two hundred twenty pounds weighed in.” Since it is the biggest buck he has got (or seen) at the Vo Tech School, he had decided to carry it over to Parker’s Taxidermy I had threatened to have him visit with me in the afternoon, but he wanted to attend to the chores he, too, had postponed, before going out for one more go at the hunt. I had packed my rifles away, since I will be going to Pittsfield MA this weekend and Akron OH the next, with Chicago and Michigan the one following—so I may go through this season without putting a deer in the freezer, unless I go out with a muzzle-loader later, or take up Christian Elwell’s invitation to re-visit Ithaca New York.
So, the unusual bag in this “Year of the Deer” is –can you believe—a twin pair of red foxes! This is only appropriate for the “Year of the Twins!”