SCI Badgerland

By Brandon Wikman

The bone-chilling Canadian air has advanced across the Midwest. Daily temperatures have dive-bombed into the single digits, while the wind-chill has plummeted into the negative degree marks. Snow and sheets of ice frost the landscape as far as the eye can see. It is safe to say that we are in the heart of winter.

The remarkable ability for whitetails to cope with such harsh conditions never ceases to amaze me. The paralyzing wintry weather prods against the whitetail deer’s aptitude to survive. It is a yearly North Country battle that truly defines the old axiom, “Survival of the fittest.”

Small families of whitetail will usually cluster together in tight pockets of shelter, also known as deeryards. These dense havens of underbrush keep whitetail a few degrees warmer by blocking out the wind and winter weather elements. Doe and fawn stay together with their sisters, while many mature bucks seek refuge elsewhere.

Winter brings a new importance to food. A whitetail deer feeds every day, except during extremely nasty storms. In the case of numbing whiteout blizzards, deer will lie low and preserve their much-needed energy. Their calorie count is on a clock and forces life or death decisions. The forage of summer has all but disappeared. Tender grasses, agriculture fields and weeds have vanished. Deer turn to pine needles, evergreen trees and even tree bark.

As said, whitetail will generally not move during extremely frigid temperatures. They will sit tight and conserve as much energy as they can. They will find food, bed near it and lie low. This gives them an opportunity to survive during sub-arctic temperatures that we find common across the upper portions of the U.S. The hide that wraps their body is like a sleeping bag. Their fur is dense, which boosts their ability to stay warm. As many of us know, snow is an insulator, which keeps deer slightly warmer.

One of the most amazing points to note is that a whitetail’s blood flow varies according to different situations and circumstances. In freezing climates, such as Minnesota and upper Michigan, a whitetail’s blood flows to the brain and critical organs, such as the heart. The blood flow avoids the animals’ extremities because those are the least important parts of the body that will help them survive.

If a deer’s blood flowed to its legs, they’d lose heat and much colder blood would flow back into the deer’s body. This would make the animals much chillier and begin shutting down systems from hypothermia. The legs fall into a state of senseless stasis. This incredible capability of adaptation intrigues deer aficionados.

As humans drag out their winter jackets, snow-pants and gloves, deer grow their own jacket and let there body systems take control. This is just another astonishing attribute to the amazing world of whitetail deer.

By Brandon Wikman

As the ATA show comes down to a simmer, another gargantuan show begins to sizzle. Nearly halfway across the country, the world-renowned SHOT Show kicks off in Las Vegas.

The ATA show, which is held in Indianapolis, caters to  archery hunters, whereas the SHOT Show is targeted to the general hunting population. Both shows are huge and electrifying.

The SHOT Show is an annual tradeshow for the shooting and firearms industry. It is one the biggest event of this type in the world, together with IWA & Outdoor (“IWA Nuremberg”) which also takes place annually. “SHOT”, besides being a general reference to shooting, is an acronym for “Shooting, Hunting and Outdoor Trade” (show). This trade show is open only to those in the trade and the press. It is not open to the general public.

SHOT Show attendance remained strong in 2010, rising 11,000 above 2009’s show in Orlando.You will find some of the following show statistics quite intriguing. The total attendance averages to be about 58,444 people. There are 1,633 exhibitors showcasing outdoor and hunting products. There are over 31,2800 people who attend to write orders, look at the new and exciting products, and meet fellow industry partners. Lastly, there’s 700,000 net square feet for hardcore hunters to use.

The first SHOT Show was held in St. Louis, Missouri, in 1979. The show is owned and sponsored by the National Shooting Sports Foundation. It rotates between Las Vegas, Nevada; Orlando, Florida; New Orleans, Louisiana, and several other U.S. cities, although in the last few years it has taken place mostly in Las Vegas.

A show like this lasts for several days and makes for an incredible experience. If you ever have a chance to attend such an event, please do. You will be glad you did.

- By Brandon Wikman

Hunting turkey can be a pursuit of unpredictable obstacles that weave themselves into a broken basket that can only carry air. Big birds are notorious for pecking your intelligence into the ground. Often times, they seem to make me want to pluck my hair follicles out! This week I strutted out of the woods slightly smarter and much more successful.

This past weekend meant the world to me. I wanted to serve my dear friend Jenn a hen dinner served on a silver platter. My focus was purely on my forest’s feathered friend, turkey.  A peculiar critter that eludes even the most tactful hunter in the woods, these birds live and die by their keen eyesight. It’s as if turkey sport a pair of Nikon’s on their goofy faces, not to mention their uncanny ability to survive in a wilderness seemingly fit for only the most dominant bush creatures.

I had one day to put my best efforts into scouting and zeroing-in on a bird for Jenn. I began my woodland excursion in the morning while trekking farm fields for any visual evidence of footprints, scat or feathers. During my big search I happened to stumble across an alfalfa field that graciously held a handful of feathers. As I collected field feathers and began to part the lush greens in search for prints, I was convinced that this was a gobbling good spot.

Instantaneously, the blind was erected. Turkey aren’t as tent-blind savvy as whitetail, but I still brushed-up the blind to ease any doubts. My handsaw was put to action. Woodchips flew like sparks as the saw’s teeth shredded through the lumber. Pine boughs were thrown into a heaping pile that would soon be decorating my blind. Pine trees are incredible for throwing down a covert strategy that will make you invisible; the limbs are dressed with so many finger-like needles that vanish your outline in a matter of seconds. My blind looked like a pine hut that came directly from the early era of caveman. My ancient cavern would soon be put to the ultimate turkey test once Jenn arrived to hunt tomorrow.

The next morning was show time. All I had to do was hope that the flock of birds wouldn’t forget their travel route, which bypassed the blind at a mere 10-yards. Jenn and I shuffled to the blind at first-light. As she jacked ammo into the shotgun I crossed my fingers and wished for Jenn to blast her very first bird.

The sun cast a balance of warmth on the blossoming fall forage while the fog faded, and flocks of geese darted into the horizon from bowling balls to bb’s. This Mother Earth moment was instantly carved into my memory and cleansed my soul. It was nature at its very best. We sat, watched and waited.

Suddenly, my eyes grabbed a flashy bolt of black. Both Jenn and I squinted out of the window and spotted the flock scratching their way from the woods into the field. Beams of sunrays accented the feathers as I gawked at my plan working to perfection. Jenn snuggled the gun into her shoulder as I continued to throw a one man show circus in my imagination. One-by-one the birds entered the field. Jenn selected the closest turkey and without much guidance provided her own opportunity to shoot. The faint click of the safety was followed by the booming blast of her gun. There were birds and feathers scattered everywhere! It was as if the sun had been abruptly blocked and floating feathers and darting birds choked all light. All the while, I turned to look at the smile on Jenn’s face and it lit the world back up.

As the commotion of wing beats and puttering bird noises ceased, I turned my attention to a beautiful bird lying on the ground. The elation of joy was hard to beat for the experience of a surefire plan, which is difficult to come by. I counted my blessings that morning and shared my love and passion with someone I deeply care for.