- By Brandon Wikman

The simple shutter of a trail camera documenting the perplexing life of a deer is truly extraordinary. Gaining any edge of insight against the opposition may amplify your success.

Deciphering the hidden code for whitetails can be as unpractical and mysterious as roaming the lost pyramids of Egypt. A mature deer has an infinite amount of senses that he’ll use to shake off any threat in sight. It truly is a mystical nightmare that most hunters are utterly oblivious to. When you can trigger an image of a mature buck on camera, you have something incredibly special!

I’ve learned a few basic tricks to surprise-attack deer in their home terrain via trail camera. The most important and critical element of being covert is your scent.

SCENT:
As we all know, deer have an unforgiving nose. They are able to sniff a trickled bead of sweat in grass for a long period of time. Many hunters fail to realize putting out trail cameras is just as critical as actually hunting. You don’t need to smell like a McDonald’s Big Mac or be doused in diesel fuel from working on the tractor; you need to smell clean!

Be sure to take the extra time to shower and eliminate any foreign odors you may be carrying. Your hands carry a whole entire heap of human bearing stenches. When handling your trail camera in the woods be certain to wear gloves. This will block any odors that you may transmit to the camera monitor.

Lastly, clean your camera like you clean your camo clothes. Don’t be afraid to scrub the outside with scent eliminator or wash. This will break up the bacteria molecules that the camera models has taken on throughout the time on the store shelf, in your truck and lying in your house.

Scent is the highlight for this week. I know there are a vast number of hunters that don’t take the necessary time to enter the home of a whitetail smelling like fresh air. Many times people will run play the game last-minute-style and run into the woods after work smelling like a skunk!

You know you are doing something right when you can capture an image of a mature deer (multiple) times on your camera. This assures that you never spooked him. Be sure to take the extra time to increase your odds in the field and woods this year! You only have a strict number of days to hunt in a season; be certain to do it right!

- By Brandon Wikman

This was my first introduction to the sacred place the northerners call “Upper Michigan” a.k.a. (Yooper Country). Jenn and I were still dumbfounded with the spur of our sour luck until we rolled into the palace of Maple Ridge Outfitter.

Mr. Gary Scarborough pulled into the driveway as both Jenn and I gawked at his beautiful wilderness creation. Our spirits were lifted to the roost as we entered the walkway to my dream cabin that appeared to be torn off the back of a rustic home magazine. At the porch, Gary introduced us to his son and chief guide, Sam. He was a character. Sam’s the type of person that you’d fall in love with at sight; a “bromance” if you will. His quirky ways and hilarious attitude boosted the atmosphere and made us feel humored beyond belief! The smiles were served, ice was broken, and now it was time to settle in.

As I opened the door, a blessed aroma of firewood filled my nostrils while my squinty eyes finally opened to something that simply amazed me. Gary decorated his hunting cabin with the only fitting décor, animals. He showcased giant moose, wicked caribou, and monstrous whitetail that were taken off properties only miles away. He even had a blown-up gobbler, which stood in strut casting dominance across the room. Great people, incredible accommodations, and the anticipation for Jenn’s first turkey soon charmed my dreadful evening.

After my awe-struck hour, it was time to get to business. The evening was swift. I dumped my bag of assortments on the floor and began picking through it like a vulture. My camouflage outerwear, clunky boots, and magical bag of Keystone turkey calls. I also yanked out the most important accessory, the video camera. These were my weapons to defeat the savvy “Yooper bird.” While I unpacked, Jenn did otherwise.

Jenn failed like a 3-year old eating spaghetti . She was working in ‘sleep town’ sawing logs as I sat down with Gary and Sam to go over the turkey agenda. These boys knocked the heads off some birds. We flipped through the trophy album blissfully grinning at photo after photo. There were a tremendous amount of successful hunts from only weeks ago. Now it was our time; the last week to hunt birds in Michigan, but the weather turning pale. The Weather Channel showcased a slow moving cold front engulf the northern part of Wisconsin and en route to the U.P. As fate would have it, we woke up to a gloomy morning. The temperature dropped significantly and a cold air mass system loomed over the roost trees. This was not what I had hoped for. This time the meteorologists were correct.

Jenn and I grabbed our goods and vanished with Sam into the dark. I threw on an extra layer of clothing, as did everyone, and ventured into the forest. The hunt began to feel like a November whitetail chase as temperatures plummeted. Silence grew as we nestled into shrubbery and cloaked our gear into nature. As mounds of dark clouds piled above the pines, bursts of sunlight were choked. The woods were silent. This was no weather to strike a chorus of gobbles. Hopes of killing a bird off the roost was soon washed away by droplets of rain. Before I could even begin to start pouting, the droplets turned into boulders and it was go time!

Over the next few days we watched as miserable weather damped the hopes of enchanting Jenn with a strutter. As I peered out the window hopelessly stressed, streaks of rain oozed down the glass likes tears. Although, this was no time to frown or drown emotions thanks to Mother Nature.

Gary and Sam entertained every beaten feeling of distress in us. Lavish homemade meals, several nail biting games of pool, and a toasty day nestled in the cabin relaxing and enjoying one’s company. This was what camaraderie and good people were all about.

Needless to say, Jenn wasn’t able to pull the trigger on a soggy feathered bird. In fact, after the first day of breaking down on the highway, getting towed, running late, and watching the weather burst our hopes of birds… I really didn’t care. The face of an enlightened girl enjoying every minute filled my soul with accomplishment. I ventured out of the holy land of “Yoopers” with new friends, a memorable experience, and another shot at wrangling Jenn her first turkey.

- By Brandon Wikman

Fishing has been one of the more popular prescriptions outdoor enthusiasts cling to when deer season has all but simmered. The rapid quest for fish begins for the majority of anglers during the late spring and early summer. This is especially true for the Midwest.

Recently, I had the incredible opportunity to fly into the beautiful state of Georgia to film an episode for The Next Generation TV show. My dearest and most respected mentor, John Stamper of Student Outdoor Experience assembled the game plan blitz. He setup a world class fishing trip on Lake Lanier. We were to seek a species of fish that’s unheard of in my neck of the woods. The fish is called a striper. These fish carry a big belly that’s complimented by a bad attitude, which make them a fishing favorite for many in the southern states.

My initial response to fishing these over-sized bass was quite simple. How? Thankfully, my fishing partners were reluctant to educate me on these critters of the deep. Striped bass can live up to 40-years. They have been known to tip the scales to over 100 pounds! I knew I was in for a spectacular time when the fishing gurus began tossing those numbers into the equation. It became very apparent that we weren’t fishing for little bluegill anymore…

I learned that striped bass eat a variety of different foods. They will bite into alewives, flounder, sea herring, silver hake, and even eels. Their appetite is super large, hence their massive sizes.

After sifting through the seaweed of sport fishing the notorious striper, I was ready. The boat splashed into the water before daylight and we were fishing before light! Fishing during the faint light seemed out of the question; until I was awakened, literally.

The first few casting experiments were a way for me to test my virgin fishing abilities into the water of striper. To my surprise, I was blasted with a few rock-solid strikes from a few wicked whoppers! The light blue sky grew brighter as the fishing ensued. I soon learned that these fish ate heavy during dusk and dawn. The time was prime.

As I gazed into the fogs of la-la-land completely swept away by the beauty of Lake Lanier, my pole took a nosedive. The battle of wits was on. My heavy-duty rod and reel zipped and wobbled recklessly as I gave my best attempt to wrestle the eager fish. My line went back-and-forth as we both tugged. The battle busted ground after eight minutes of brutal cranking of my reel. I was able to get the fish close enough to the boat where a net could be dipped and scooped.

My first fish of the morning was a 10-pound striped bass. I couldn’t be any happier! We fished throughout the morning and into the afternoon. We caught several more respectable fish, which truly enhanced the filming portions of the trip.

I was delighted to have had the chance and open-invitation to test my skills on the deep freshwater fish they call the striper. Thanks John for everything!

- By Brandon Wikman

Warm weather blossoms an entire new garden of enjoyable outdoor activities. Many avid outdoor enthusiasts jump into the fresh wonders of wildlife to seek the infamous headgear of whitetail, search for the prized morel mushroom, or plop a bobber into a lake. The rising temperatures inspire many new activities that take place in the woods, water, or as I can attest, my backyard!

Last week my close friends and I broke out the shotguns, my trap-thrower, and a few boxes of clay pigeons. We spent an entire afternoon shattering the fragile orange disks they call clay pigeons. I dedicated a few hours to hone in my skills, practice shooting habits, and get my head back into the game of hunting after a cold wintery lull. My friends and I busted through hundreds of disks for fun. No scoring. No competitions. Just good, clean fun.

My great friend Jenn Geissler is a beginner when it comes to the shooting world. My hope was to show her a great time, increase her shooting skills, and enhance her ability to pulverize clay pigeons. My main goal was to provide her a great time to participate in a sport that I so dearly love. I was very careful to work with her on shooting stance first. Stance is one of the most critical fundamentals to pinpoint before shooting. The art of shooting sports revolves around a few basic ground rules that will essentially improve individuals’ shooting talents. Below you will find a few that have worked for me.

Stance:

The simple mannerisms of proper stance reflect your ability to balance your center of gravity. Your stance has such an important value nestled into the way your body performs. I’ve learned and took notes from several Olympic trap-shooters that have made a competitive gaming career out of it.

You must be sure to lean into the shot with a semi-open stance shoulder-width apart. This will provide an adequate balance and foundation for your upper body to swing into the shot. Balance is such a key factor in accuracy and the outcome of your performance.

Follow Through:

I’ve learned that over the years “following through” is one of the most central items that revolve around life. We must follow through within our career, in sports, and throughout our existence. If we don’t take the extra step to follow through, there’s simply no guidance or direction.

As any basketball player would tell you, following through is a key aspect to their success. As trap-shooters will also tell you, it gives you a platform to reach consistency, which will ultimately improve your accuracy.

Confidence:

As any professional sports player, musician, or leadership speaker will tell you, confidence is key. At the end of they day you can have the best stance, form, technique, and follow through, but if you aren’t confident in your venture, you will fail. There’s an old quote that I always enjoy to reflect upon, “If you plan to fail, your plan will fail.”

Confidence is a mental awareness that is found deep in your soul. It’s a habitual feeling we have that comes with practice, practice, and more practice. As you walk up to your next job interviews, exam, or audience, you must grasp your mind with an “I can” attitude. This will show in more ways than one.

These are just a few simple tips that I’ve learned over the years from my many great mentors. They aren’t anything fancy, nothing unearthed that hasn’t been told before, but merely a recall to action.

At the end of the day, we must find time to showcase a proving ground for newbie’s. It’s truly a rewarding opportunity to enjoy and splendor for many years to come.

- By Brandon Wikman

The spring is a hustle-bustle time of consumer tradeshows, product launches, and introducing new items for shelf space. Throughout the past four-month grind of racing to cities across the Midwest, assembling booths, meeting great people, and promoting the sport of hunting to the next generation of outdoor enthusiasts has left an incredible impression on my life. I love partaking in events that provide instructive education for our youth. Last month I attended a unique event that showcased an entirely new dimension of visitors; Kid’s Day.

Adams County, Wis. hosts an annual event that is targeted toward area youth. Adams is a small country community that is located in the south central region of Wisconsin. The vast farmland and area lakes make this a dynamic place for avid hunters and fishermen. It is a place where I was raised and began my journey into the outdoors. Many people find refuge in the area for its rich traditions of conservation and land management.

The small community of fewer than 2,000 assembles a yearly get-together during April. Vendors from across the county exhibit interesting booths, engaging games, and free seminars about everything from origami paper construction to hula hooping. One thousand area kids join together during this special day to enjoy the assortment of activities.

My friend Jenn Geissler and I attended the event and showcased the fine art of turkey calling. I brought an assortment of friction calls for kids to try and a relentless attitude to teach. Jenn and I provided insight on how to run yelps, clucks, and purrs, which are the basic fundamentals to calling turkeys in shooting range. Kids from the ages of 5-to-15 enjoyed the screeching aluminum, glass, and slate surfaces.

Throughout the duration of the day, kids scratched, cranked, and scraped turkey tunes in the gymnasium from my booth. The yelps and cackles brought in curious kids looking to master the art of turkey vocalization. Many newbie’s were able to bust out a pretty good yelp within the first few minutes, while others stuck around for several minutes before playing a melody. Jenn and I gladly provided lessons for a few hours for both youth and adults alike. It was great to see the smiles and fascinating looks bystanders had.

We enjoyed a fine day promoting turkey calls and turkey hunting to kids. Jenn and I found great joy in growing youth’s knowledge with wild game tips, tactics, and techniques. Several kids left the booth asking where they could purchase a turkey call. It was a proud moment to realize the little work that we did last Saturday rippled across the entire county’s youth base.

Providing education and leadership to youth is what Jenn and I both find dear to our hearts. It’s a chance to inspire kids with something new, exciting, and positive. I firmly believe that making a positive impression on today’s youth is critical and nearly the most important aspect of their life. Adults and peers must act as role models to establish a strong presence within the child’s psyche. Please remember that children carefully watch everything we do. Be that person to resonate the positive aspects of tomorrow’s future.

- By Brandon Wikman

Trudging through forests and fields in search for massive whitetail headgear can be completely irresistible when you know both where and how to look. I’ve encountered many years of tireless searching for bone without any rewards to take home to show forth! Finally after listening and learning to a few shed hunting gurus, I’m able to ‘shed’ light on some valuable tactics in search for the mysterious bone!

FOREST:
Shed hunting in the forest is a lot like fishing. As a fisherman, we always keep a close eye on structure, such as weed beds, logs, or overhanging branches. Shed hunting is no different. Look for places such as thick brush spots, lone standing pines, and try to figure where bucks would spend the majority of their time. You must maximize your search by finding the key high-percentage areas.

Your best bet is to break out an aerial map and look at the terrain. Find the fields, ridges, and inside corner of woodlots. This will give you a better idea of where to begin. Once you have a general idea of where to look, it’s time to get your hiking boots.

I found that searching the south edges of woodlots that border cornfields could be a gold mine. These are prime food source locations that are in direct sunlight throughout the day. Small patches of thickets within a property are a wise place to look. These gnarly places hold a high percentage of a forest’s bedding area. They also have a great tendency of snagging antlers due to the blanket of twisted branches.

Lastly, find river or creek crossings. Many times deer will follow water parallel until they find a shallow spot. Bucks will make a good hop, skip, and jump across the water and jar their antlers from the hoof impact.

FIELD:
During the winter, whitetails rely on the rich carbohydrates composed of corn and soybeans. Agriculture fields are a huge whitetail pull. They provide animals with a consistent food source that is, most importantly, within walking distance. They don’t have to lose energy walking miles and miles looking for a place to find grub.

Deer typically will feed on a number of different crops in the winter. They mostly prefer corn, alfalfa, winter wheat, and rye grass. These are power-packed foods that provide substantial energy. Dealing with thousands of endless acres of agriculture fields can be daunting! There is a lot of field to cover and antlers can be scattered anywhere. Before lacing your winter boots for a huge trek, here are a few things to note.

Be aware of the travel locations of in which deer are entering and exiting the field most often. Find the largest concentration of tracks, droppings, or signs to guide you in the right direction. Glass the field with a nice pair of binoculars. This is extremely productive and you’ll be able to spot the glimmering sheen of a shed antler. Be sure to get a high vantage point so you can see as much as possible. You may want to find the highest ridge in the field and stand atop your four-wheeler to navigate.

If you don’t have a four-wheeler, walking will suffice. Take a stroll through a few rows at a time and mark where you’ve traveled. It’s much more efficient to look in one direction than to sweep back and forth throughout the entire field. You must take your sweet time and mosey through the field with wide-eyes!

Shed hunting is a fun way to get your family and friends into the woods. This is a good thing, considering the more eyes, the better! Be sure to take a weekend and search for success.

- By Brandon WikmanThousands of my trail-camera pictures are cluttered into hundreds of electronically saved archived folders in my computer. Each year the photos spill over and suckle the memory juices from my laptop’s hard drive. I watch as my kila, mega, and gigabytes are zapped and disappear into “memory cemetery land” and can’t seem to press the delete key on any of them!

Instead of deleting them, I save each photograph and marvel at the sheer uniqueness of each one. Every photo illustrates an incredible story in the life of our most sacred animals. The whitetail deer has mystified our wildest imaginations for centuries. The addiction to coordinate a successful covert operation of candidly documenting these critters only adds to the blossoming of our deepest hunting obsessions.

I’ve taken a good and hard look at the work my Moultrie trail camera did for me in 2009 and pulled three of my favorite whitetail moments.

Late August is a time when the fuzzy velvet of a whitetail’s headgear turns ripe. Capturing a photo of a soft-horned giant will always be on my “to-do” list, but the whitetail photographed on this summer evening was truly one-of-a-kind.

As you can see, the trail camera was placed pointing back at a tree stand. In this picture you can feel the gut-wrenching buck fever of this colossal 10-point buck. He gracefully looks into the distance, unaware of the trail camera’s presence. Little did he know, he’s toying with opening weekends near arrival. This picture is absolutely stellar.

As mid-October grew near, the leaves changed color almost as if it were in accordance with these two bucks’ aggression. The whitetails are beginning to face off a battle to declare one of the most precious assets in the eyes of a whitetail, dominance. The buck on the left is truly spectacular. He’s sporting a kicker on both G2’s. The buck pictured to the right is a classic example of a Buffalo County, Wisconsin 2-year old.

One of the last most memorable photos of 2009 was this buck getting ferocious with an innocent branch hanging over the wrong place, a scrape. The scrape is about as wide as a kitchen table and had drawn in several awesome bucks during the week of November. As you can see, the whitetail’s neck is elongated and inaction as he thrusts all his might into the branch.

The industrial advancements of today’s most techno-savvy companies have embraced a leading edge in the marketplace. The hunting and outdoor industry has an immense amount of endless gear, gadgets, and garbage dumped into catalogs, trade shows, and retail locations across the country. There are very few businesses that I strongly standby in quality and customer care. I can personally attest that Moultrie has been a leader in both of those categories. Their seamless creativity and innovation leads the way as we plunge into another year and another imaginary ending to a beginning.

- By Brandon Wikman

The majority of the Midwest’s terrain is still disguised with golden acres of cornfields. Thousands of acres stretch across Missouri all the way to Ohio. Much of 2009’s corn crop has been extremely damp due to unseasonable weather conditions, which makes harvesting cobs and kernels worthless. Farmers must have local co-ops dry their corn in specialized dryers, which costs a fortune and makes the initial harvesting barely worth their time.

I believe standing cornfields in late December and early January provide just as many positive aspects as negative ones to hunters and deer alike. Corn is enriched with carbohydrates, which allow deer to boost energy and bolster their strength to survive during the harsh winter months. Food sources become severely slim when snow plasters the ground and ice blankets atop. It truly becomes a ruthless battle for survival of the fittest. There’s nothing more palatable to a whitetail than a mouthful of kernels. Custom food plots hunters prepare during the fall season are usually torn up and devoured by this time, but not when it comes to hundreds of acres of corn.

Deer often bed, feed, and live in large fields of corn throughout the fall and winter months. Mature whitetails feel extremely comfortable and secure in the confinement of rows, especially if the field is “dirty.” Dirty refers to weedy or an overgrowth of vegetation inside the field. Thickly covered fields strangled in weeds attract more deer than clean and tidy ones. Deer always feel much more safe in dense and heavier cover. Hunters must make no mistake in finding high spots, wet areas, or places where the planter has plugged up to find the best bedding sites.

Slight changes in landscape such as slopes provide deer a vantage point to spot oncoming predators. It’s critical to focus on any slight alterations in the terrain when finding the hottest bedding sites. During the fall, when winter hasn’t frozen any open watered mud holes, find them! These places found in lower areas of the field work wonders when high temperatures scorch into the upper 80’s and 90’s. Deer will often stretch their legs during the midday to sip a cool refreshing gulp of water. Lastly, farmers often plug up their planter when lying seed on the ground. This makes a cluster of tall corn that masks deer while bedding. Animals use the same instincts in the corn as they would in the forest.

When much of the Midwest has stormed through firearm season and is now back to late season archery tactics. We must understand that many whitetails have adapted to the comfort zone of cornfields during this time. Deer drives, human sightings, and a huge elevation of hunting pressure drive many whitetail into standing fields. There have been a great number of giant bucks that made it through 2009 thanks to standing corn. They’ve used it as a hot food source and an overwhelmingly fantastic place to get some shuteye throughout daylight hours.

As the season dwindles into mere days, we must take full advantage of hunting cornfields. It’s important to keep an open mind during to this time of year to fill your tag. Look for sign, such as tracks, droppings, and trails to improve your success when hunting late season whitetail!

- By Brandon Wikman

The last few days have proved to be a challenging race against time as I stuff my suitcases plump full en route to Wisconsin before year’s end. I’ve been chilled on stand for five sits now. The weather was picture-perfect. The hunting has been incredible; buck sightings above average, and doe speckle the agriculture fields everywhere.

We just haven’t had the stroke of luck to put a trophy buck on the ground. The problem that has stripped our ability to pattern bucks has been the abundance of food availability. Custom food plots work wonders when temperatures dip into the teens, but not exactly when there are other food sources in the area, such as standing corn.

Thousands of acres painted in golden rows blanket the rolling terrain of Northern Missouri. Standing corn has been the main culprit to hiding the giant whitetail that roams this vast landscape. Giant whitetail is what I’m after. Due to soggy weather conditions across the Midwest this year, many farmers have found themselves drenched with bad luck. The moisture levels in crop corn have been unusually high thanks to a lot of rain and wet weather during the harvest months of fall season. Several farmers across the country, including my uncle, had to leave their corn standing hoping that moisture would drop significantly before paying unreasonable amounts to dry it at the co-op. Many farmers are just beginning to break out the combines and do work on the snow infested fields. My uncle just started his up yesterday.

We’ve battled stormy blizzard conditions and sub-zero temperatures on a daily basis, but last night spurred to be our best evening sit yet. The stands wrapped around a tree that overlooked a standing cornfield. Hundreds of acres of corn, thousands of golden cobs, and a spectacular location amounted to our most deer sightings yet. Twenty doe funneled into the field before sunset, while the bucks waited a little longer before entering the field. A small eight-point with a handful of yearlings drifted towards the center of the field toward all of the doe. Every deer was within a hundred yards, which would make an ideal shot for the muzzleloader. Unfortunately, the big boys didn’t step into the shooting lanes until later in the evening when camera light dwindled.

As I peered through my scope at the 4-½ year old ten-point, my teeth chattered as my heart sunk into my throat. This was a perfect example of the con’s involved in capturing a hunt on film. Video cameras can’t record quality footage during low light conditions. I watched the buck disappear into the cornfield, while I faded into the back of my stand’s seat, heart broken.

I’d just like to thank Mr. Hill and guide Dustin Fortner for providing a fantastic hunting adventure to cease the last trip of my 2009 season. The year has been a whirlwind of broken success, shattered dreams, and the occasional enlightenment that has kept us going. I wish everyone luck as most states continue their late season hunting until mid-January. God bless and good luck.

- By Brandon Wikman

The Friday before Christmas, I scurried into my classroom to take my final exam for history. I gave my best effort trying to remember key dates, landmark cases, and notable historians of the last century. My mind melted like a pile of oozing lava, because all I could focus on was tall tines, massive beams, and pulling the trigger on a northwestern Missouri whitetail.

I scribbled into the last bubble on the test form sheet and was thankfully released free for Christmas Break. My plan was to drive throughout the afternoon to Missouri. It would mean that I’d be burning rubber into the wee hours of the morning, but I was willing to, in order to fit a morning muzzleloader hunt in.

Northwestern Missouri is a spitting image of infamous Iowa. The land is carved with creeks, checker boarded with agriculture fields, and small parcels of trees winding across the rolling terrain. A vast majority of the male whitetail herd sport gigantic headgear and pack the pounds. The deer could be considered super-whitetail, considering the perfect recipe of land, deer management practices, and trophy genetics blend together and make this sweet concoction of whitetail paradise. Within the last few years, Missouri has ranked in the top five for savvy hunters dragging Boone & Crockett class bucks from their forest. It is no surprise when the area is covered with trophy animals.

I arrived to the official Border Bucks lodge this morning at 6am. The owner, Mr. Bill Hill and our guide, Dustin Fortner, happily greeted me. Both of these gentlemen are world-class people and whitetail wizards. I felt privileged to be at camp and experience the hype of hunting with this world-renowned outfitter. Mr. Hill has successfully downed an array of freak-nasty bucks in his time. The camp’s walls are a testimony of his passion and impressive accomplishments.

Mr. Hill’s hunting resume is infused with some of the most accomplished feats I’ve ever seen. He runs a strict, 140’ minimum and 8-point or better harvest rule. He prefers you don’t shoot any bucks that have a lot of busted tines or beams. Many of today’s most recognized hunting celebrities and TV hosts have also discovered the secret about northwestern Missouri. Realtree’s own, Bill Jordan and his son, Tyler were there a few years ago and laid down some incredible big buck footage that aired on ESPN.

I begin my hunt this evening. As many Midwesterners know, late season hunting can be fantastic. We’ve got the elements working for us as we speak. Cold weather, icy conditions, and heaping bounty of agriculture fields should boost our odds of striking a buck. Cut corn, soybean, and small custom food plots are strategically placed among all of the properties.

As I arrived, one of the clients harvested a giant 176-inch monster. The anticipation grows and escalates as I count down the minutes before I’m in stand. This will be my first time hunting in Missouri and marks my very first muzzleloader hunt of the year.

I will be excited in progressively developing my blog to relay my experience here. Good luck to all of those who are late season hunting. Stay warm and stay safe.

- By Brandon Wikman

The bone-chilling Canadian air has settled across the Upper Midwest. Temperatures have plummeted into the negative degree marks and snow frosts landscapes as far as the eye can see. It is safe to say that winter is upon us.

Earlier this week Wisconsin was blanketed with a heap of snow. A blizzard from Canada broke over the border and annihilated the northern part of the United States. The storm blasted throughout the entire night and into the next day. We received over two feet of sloppy snow. In fact, nearly the entire state’s school systems closed their doors, including universities all across Wisconsin.

It’s amazing to attempt grasping how animals cope with paralyzing weather, such as deer for instance. I complain walking out the door every morning and having to start my vehicle so it can warm up. It takes a whole 30-seconds to accomplish this miserable feat, but I absolutely hate every second of it! Deer, along with every other animal that finds themselves hunkered into the woods, water, and fields, don’t bare it, they live it.

Deer walk on the tips of their toes, which are hooves. Hooves are equivalent to our toenails. They basically have no sense of feeling. If I were to walk barefoot in a foot of icy snow, my feet would turn purple! Deer don’t have feel extremely cold ground surfaces thanks to their hooves.

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.

Lastly, one of the most important 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 it’s 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 turn into a state of senselessness. This amazing capability of adaptation stirs my interest.

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 incredible attribute to the amazing whitetail world.

- By Brandon Wikman

The blaze orange army of 600,000-plus raided the woods in search of a trophy last weekend. Wisconsin’s opening weekend of firearm season didn’t begin with a big bang like previous years. It sounded more like a dud.

Many reasons for the lack of deer sightings were passed among hunting families over the dinner table. Many high hopes and big anticipations evolved into despair. Wisconsin’s opening weekend deer count was down 33,000 for several reasons.

As the dawn of gun season shadowed and the hungry hunters began drooling for daylight, a blanket of fog choked the forest. A cloud of white concealed any sort of life that stretched passed twenty yards! I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Many hunters complained of hearing footsteps, grunts, and crunches in the leaves, but couldn’t identify the source.

Many giant whitetails bearing a set of massive antlers escaped the gun down phase of the morning. The fog didn’t lift until around noon. The gunshot count was as low as it would be in muzzleloader season. A faint crackle ignited the woods every now and again, but not nearly to the typical standards of opening weekend’s firework show.

The overwhelmingly strange weather also infringed on the deer sightings. The muggy weather tempted many hunters to remove several layers of clothing articles by around eleven! The temperatures rose to nearly sixty-degrees in some parts of Wisconsin, which flat-lined the deer movement considerably. Many deer hugged shady areas and bluff ledges to cool off and hide from hunters. As many of you know, weather affects every bit of animal activity.

Lastly, the most credible reason hunters from across the state spotted far less deer than usual was because of the Wisconsin DNR’s faulty deer estimation. The DNR reported that there was an overabundance of whitetail in Wisconsin. They proceeded to condense the population of deer by implementing programs that focused on culling doe; in fact, a lot of doe. Nearly half of the state has been in “Earn-a-Buck,” for the last handful of years. The “Earn-a-Buck” program challenges hunters to harvest a doe before pulling the trigger on a buck. The herd reduction program didn’t stop there. Many parts of the state that were not included in “Earn-a-Buck” sported a “T-Zone,” which is an all out doe hunting blitz with a rifle during archery season. Free doe tags were given out when you made your license purchase, which could be used for units of Wisconsin that were designated to “T-Zone.”

Both programs have effectively reduced the once thriving deer herd in Wisconsin, but some say it’s gone too far. We cannot forget that the bottom of the entire state is still locked in a “CWD Zone.” The zone gives hunters an opportunity to harvest an endless amount of deer. For every one doe that you shoot, a buck tag is handed to you. It has been another extremely controversial program setup by the Wisconsin DNR.

It isn’t often that hunter’s criticize the DNR, considering they are the protectors and stewards of our environment. The feelings soon turn raw once hunters feel cheated. The DNR has admitted to overestimating the deer herd. Now it’s time for the DNR to go back to the statistics, estimations, and records and begin a new phase of duty, which is helping the whitetail population of Wisconsin increase.

By – Brandon Wikman

The last image burnt into my tattered mind was a faint image of my mother’s face before my body shattered onto the cold forest floor. Am I alive?

We’ve heard that 80% of tree stand accidents happen when hunters climb in and out of the stand. Last week I became a statistic, a statistic that changed my life. I feel blessed to be here writing about my experience and hope to raise awareness to the hunting population that safety is so crucial while outdoors.

The past weekend marked my 22nd birthday. I was finally able to cram an entire weekend’s worth of homework and job duties into the middle of the week, allowing me to escape back home Saturday and Sunday. Spending time with loved ones is extremely important to me. I value every waking moment spent with my mother and sisters. As another birthday rolls in and cards fill the mailbox, I take a different perspective on what my day earth means to me. I dearly thank my mother for raising me correctly and honor the sacrifices she made for the betterment of my sisters and me. It’s not about the gifts, cakes, or glory, but about the moments cherished with the people dear to your heart.

My plan was to spend Saturday afternoon in the woods hunting, doing something I can’t get enough of and absolutely love. At dark, my mother had my favorite dinner prepared with a mouthwatering cake and ice cream to compliment the meal fit for a king. The thought was nice and surely comforted my food deprived stomach as I walked into the woods, but what happened next changed the entire course of my evening plans.

I slowly tiptoed down a deer path en route to my tree stand. The wind was calm, breeze was cool, and my hopes were sky high. As I approached my stand, I unraveled my rope and latched it to my bow’s cam. I eased my bow down cautiously as the rope’s slack tightened. I was ready to scale up the ladder. So I thought.

A backpack full of grunt tubes, rattling horns, and a miscellaneous array of hunting gear shifted back-n-forth against my back as I climbed the ladder rungs. My cumbersome rubber boots took up the entire rung, with only centimeters of excess space. The stand was finally in sight. I motioned to lift myself into the stand, like I’ve done hundreds of times before, but this time was different.

My bulky camo boot slipped off the top ladder rung and sent my balance a rude awakening. The backpack weighted my back towards the opposite direction. I was literally freefalling in midair. It was a nightmare, but I didn’t seem to wake up in my bed in a cold sweat. I was plummeting head first into the frozen tundra. The fall was swift. I had enough time to think about my family one more time before I readied myself for the 20-ft spiral.

My right hand instantly stretched toward the earth while my face cringed. I knew this was going to hurt. It did, badly. A sudden impact of sheer body weight against pure earth collapsed my body into a pile of reckless pain and agony. I quivered like a bird that fell from its nest. I frantically gasped for air, but nothing would fill my lungs other than piercing needle-like pains. I was shocked, but somehow alive.

An instant adrenaline rush fused my body into gathering itself, and I slowly stumbled back to my vehicle. Blood oozed from my nose, trickled down my chin, and stained my camouflage coat. I hobbled my broken body back to the truck and drove myself straight to the emergency room.

Hours of x-rays proved that my body took a blow. I fractured ribs, my scapula, and sprained my legs. The doctor advised I rest and take it easy. I was convinced my bones were broken, but the doctor said otherwise.

On my drive home I realized how lucky I was to fight off busted bones, a broken back or even worse, death. I enjoyed my dinner with the family that evening, but it was a dinner that meant more to me than I’ve ever imagined.

More than 30% of hunters die annually from falling 20-ft. up. The statistic elevates as the height of the fall increased. We must all be aware that safety is our number one priority. I’ve been lucky to have years of safe trips up and down trees, but there was just something different about last weekend. Please be careful and cautious during your next adventure.

- By Brandon WikmanPages

This is my favorite time of year. The forests across the Midwest have been charmed with splashes of magnificent color. Vibrant reds, awesome oranges, and pretty purples fill the woodland canopy. To me, the only verification of fall is a transformation of colors and the sound of stampeding bucks hounding doe. Now, I am finally convinced.

Fall is a wonderful time of year to experience nature’s one last gasp of fresh air. The wildlife is plentiful and scenic beauty is marvelous. Not too long after this season comes winter, which stains our illuminant landscape pure white. I’ve always relished the moments spent outdoors during this period of time. It’s what I always remember when I think of hunting, fishing, and spending time lavishing in nature. The weather is typically cool and the breeze is always refreshing. The fragrance of our natural environment has never been so inviting. The strong aromas of leaves bursting into decomposition happen to be a true scent of relaxation.

There are few better places to experience the full-fledged fall sensation firsthand than Buena Vista Park, in Alma, Wis. Last weekend I visited the magnificent spectacle. Buena Vista Park overlooks the entire Alma community. Thousands of feet above the Mississippi River, the park towers into the clouds. Once on this hill of destiny, a person can see miles upon miles into the vast land of western Wisconsin and eastern Minnesota.

I sat on the rock ledge for an hour soaking in the view. I spotted boats from afar drifting into the harbor and bicyclists pedaling down the wooded trails. I may have been alone on the cliff, but my heart and soul hasn’t felt anymore comforted.

Sometimes it’s the natural cures in life that mend the wounds of battling everyday life. There are no prescriptions, drugs, or stimulants that will ever give you the feeling that nature does. It is truly a medicine that costs no more than an afternoon adventure.

If you have the chance to spend time outdoors with your friends or family, I’d advise you to do so now. There are no greater memories made in the field and woods than with the people you’ve come to love and respect.

October 15, 2009

The New Spot

- By Brandon Wikman

There’s nothing quite like the excitement of slapping a trail camera against a fresh tree overlooking a totally new area. Yesterday I hopped in my truck after class and sunk my rubber boots into an area that’s shielded from human existence.

I’ve always searched for different spots where no hunter has set foot. It is obviously near impossible discovering a place so void of human sign. Hunters and hikers have made a slight indentation on nearly every sand, snow and ice granule across the planet. After countless hours staring at Google Earth, I was able to find a hunting spot that is dislocated from any roads, four-wheel trails and public access. It’s not often when you find a potential sweet spot buried in the map, hidden from even the keenest set of outdoorsman eyes. I was just plain lucky, so I thought.

After packing up a few of my Moultrie cams, I burnt rubber and ventured into the woods. A backpack is a wise idea to bring with you on any journey. I was able to fit a few cameras, bait and water bottles to quench my thirst after an endless trek into no-man’s land. I felt as prepared as I could be for a new exploration. High hopes complimented a silly grin as I gave my best attempt to lose myself in nature. The smile didn’t last long.

The walk was brutal. A map only shows a simple illustration of terrain. Needless to say, I found myself battling impenetrable patches of thorn bushes, waist high swamp waters and viscous swarms of blood thirsty mosquitoes! I was about as unprepared as a hunter without his weapon. I wore shorts and a short-sleeve shirt, which was a huge mistake. The thorns sunk into my naked skin like razor blades. I forgot to bring any type of mosquito spray. In fact, the scratches and cuts on my arm made me even more attractive as prey for bugs. I turned my own body into a dinner platter for swamp critters. When I arrived at the halfway point, things got real ugly. I escaped the dagger field and eluded most of the swarms of bugs, but when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, they surely did.My knee-high boots vanished into the depths of a seemingly endless mud hole. Black water oozed into my boot as I desperately struggled to win back my leg. Sludge-choked water nipped at my toes until my entire boot filled with swamp water. I had it. I was done.

My risky business of venturing into the hellhole of an abandoned marsh wasn’t the brightest idea I’ve ever stumbled upon. I found myself pulling a 180-degree turn the heck out of there! Sometimes I think we as hunters try way too hard trying to find the most out of reach location on earth to hang a stand. It always makes me laugh (not really) when I hear hunters say they shot their giant buck a mere couple hundred yards behind their house. It never ceases to amaze me how the whitetail brain works, but I think we can all ask an even better question…how in the world does our mind wrap around the concept of trying to nail everything a deer would know? It is better left unsaid.

At the end of a tireless, wet and distasteful voyage into the cattails, my job isn’t done yet. I will sling a Moultrie around a tree down there, but just not today.

-By Brandon Wikman

Welcome to the month of October. It’s a time when the nights becomes cooler, and the days become increasingly shorter. More importantly, it’s a time when whitetails make a sudden juke on our scheming hunting blitz.I embellish the vitality of seeking brutes on brisk November mornings, but I’m usually lucky enough to have my opponent in the freezer by then. You’ve heard it said by TV hosts, outdoor writers, and seminar speakers over and over, “focus on main food sources that arouse the whitetail’s craving”. Soybeans, corn, alfalfa, and acorns are a popular choice of groceries in the Midwest. Deer indulge on farmers’ painstaking long hours of hard work in the fields, but there’s one problem.

Once the velvet vanishes, so too the handsome racked bucks from the harvested fields. It’s an ongoing cycle that happens every year about this time. People are dumbfounded by the process and truly believe high classed whitetail have a calendar memory chip deep inside their brain focused on the day of deer season. “They just disappear,” is a common quote I often hear.

Deer patterns change, food sources deplete, and human disturbance rises, which lead deer to flee. Unless you have whitetail on the Atkins diet, the animal has got to eat! Nutrition is a vital role in the life of a whitetail. Many of my friends are clueless to this ritualistic evolution of deer vanishing theory. It is often my same friends who don’t think outside the box. They never dig into the real meaning of why deer move or relocate during this time. Mature bucks would rather yawn in their beds and take a load off until the fresh dusk aerates the forest. They sit tight and in no hurry, while the hunter watches their optic fibers fade with the sunset.

To resolve this issue we must quit hunting field edges and get back into the forage. Once deep within the forest, look for acorn ridges, clover patches, or any scrumptious treat for deer to eat for an appetizer. Bucks and does alike will bypass time in these staging areas where they feel safe. Until the sun sleeps and the tree frogs socialize, then deer will sneak to their dinner in stealth mode.

Opening day of last year I participated in a management archery hunt. I tracked the field edge, found a trail that was trampled and followed it back until I found acorn heaven. I placed a stand and the same day I blew threw a hefty doe. The doe was simply eating appetizers before the main course of voluptuous alfalfa. Sometimes the forgotten spots are just under our feet.

Don’t be afraid to slip into the woods a hundred yards. There is more opportunity of spotting a buck in a staging area tucked inside the woods than having him flaunt his antlers in the middle of an alfalfa field. With that said, venturing too far inside his safe haven will hurt your odds of ever seeing him again. I always use the expression, “knock at his door, but never walk into his room.” You want to be smack-dab in the middle of things. Assume your position in the woods between the two hottest places in a buck’s mind during October.

-By Brandon Wikman

It’s not often that hunters face the serious predicament of allocating space for trophy buck mounts. Most hardcore head junkies would rip off their own family portrait to replace the empty spot with a magnificent shoulder mount.

Typically, hunters find themselves lucky to knock down a good buck that deserves wall status every few years, but not for two of the most buck-ridden diehards I know; Butch and Marc Fox of Bluff Bucks Outfitters.

I’ve had the pleasure of hunting with the Fox’s during their initial start as a full-service outfitter in Buffalo County, Wisconsin. Bluff Bucks Outfitters (BBO) was a new face on the already cluttered map of guides, outfits, and mom n’ pop fly-by-night hunting businesses scattered along the Mississippi River region. After receiving the invitation to jump up a tree in hunter-heaven to film an episode for my show, I soon realized that this outfit was here to stay. From that day forward, the Fox’s and I have become more than friends, almost a family.

Both father (Butch) and son (Marc) slammed Booners during the same month last year. As incredible as that spectacle was, there’s nothing that shakes your soul more than seeing their new trophy den!

As the outfitting business grew, Butch had no choice but to expand the lodge to accommodate more hunters. As more land is leased, more hunters are welcome. And as more hunters are booking, more living space is necessary. As funny as it is, I still poke fun with Butch by telling him that he just wanted more space to hang heads! He just laughs and shakes his head. The scary part of the equation is that he literally ran out of space to hang any more bucks. From bedroom-to-bedroom, each corner of the upstairs, and every centimeter downstairs was chocked full of giant whitetails plastered on the wall. If a non-hunter was to walk in the house they’d think that this was some kind of whitetail deer museum.

Now with more space than ever to provide elegant comforts for his clients, the Fox’s now have a cathedral ceiling that’s sky high and beautifully showcasing a collection of giant deer. Each shoulder mount holds a fond and precious memory in our lives. It’s a peculiar fascination of reflection that drives our mind to ease.

I will be making my way over to BBO this weekend to archery hunt the early season. With any luck at all, maybe I’ll be able to throw one of my trophies this year in the BBO big buck gallery!

-By Brandon Wikman

Deep in the impenetrable, moss-infested bush of northwestern Ontario lays a land untamed and merciless to the heart of a city dweller. An environment choked with tangles of vegetation, sculpted by ancient rock bed cliffs, and home to some of the most sought after big game species in North America: monstrous black bear.

My cousin, Joe Nawrot, and I ventured into the north woods of a land lost in its own beauty and mystic. We brought with us video equipment, archery gear, and a grueling intention to defeat the black beast of the boondocks. Our journey provided us with a humbling experience to hunt with the most legendary Canadian outfitter in the entire province of Ontario; Dan Schafer, owner of Cygnet Lake Camps. Schafer hosts an enchanting vacation for those looking for a week spent in paradise. Cygnet Lake Camp is home to the finest fishing, hunting, and soul soothing excursions. It was my time to embark and make peace with a Canadian wilderness adventure.

The enduring pursuit to outwit a bear by bow n’ arrow has always been one of my most desired goals. I lugged the title of rookie bear hunter, but sported a relentless attitude to learn the craft of the trade. My mind sopped with information that Schafer flooded me with. Fine details that wise bear hunters like him could slowly drip into quenching amounts of vital information.

He explained that bears are extremely difficult to judge by size because they are completely shaded in black, a statement that fashion aficionado can attest! Bears are also super-stealthy. Many newbie hunters are baffled by the way bears silently drift through the forest like they’re walking on air. By the time Schafer finished wrapping up his sneak-peak course of Bear 101, I had my homework cutout for me.

The Canadian terrain may look marvelous to the casual observer, but don’t let the pretty looks deceive you. Unveil the mask of splendor and you find a hostile environment swallowed with flooded timber, bottomless marshes, and raging rapids of water tumbling from the skyscraping cliffs. The word “wilderness,” now resonates a whole new meaning to me.

The trek to the tree stand was an adventure in itself. An ATV was our means of transportation. The four-wheelers cut into the crusted moss beds that clung onto ancient boulders and fallen trees. An entire new habitat caked in spectacular colors of green decorated the depths of the spruce forests. Throughout the ATV venture, we slopped through puddles of muck, scaled stairs of protruding rock, and tore into scenery that echoed with mystery. The walk into the jungle began as the turkey trail transitioned into a simple footpath. As I walked along the trail with dazzling eyes of curiosity, I was in awe of how few people left their footprint in a land so virgin of human destruction. A humbled sensation of adoration crammed my soul with glee until it nearly exploded at the sight of a ladder stand in the distance.

The hunt for black bear began as I nestled myself into the mid-level branches of a spruce tree. My eyes scanned the snarled forest that hummed a nasty melody from an infestation of bloodthirsty mosquitoes. Wisely, I sat content with my bug-suit that shielded my skin from the annoyance of pesky bugs.

Moments passed slowly. Each waking minute purified my soul and sanitized my mind. I showered in a natural cleanse of Mother Nature; scrubbing the brilliance of wilderness and majesty of nature into my memory. My movements were slow and cautious. Each glance from side-to-side took a scrupulous amount of analyzing the twisted timber for a colossal mass of charcoaled hair.

As beams of glowing sunlight flirted with the Canadian horizon, pink shadows of streaming ribbons festooned the dusky sky. My eyes winced into the blockade of forage as I spotted movement beneath a cluster of white birch trees. A blob of black, which looked as dark as ink, sauntered toward my direction. From the shadows of the murky forest loomed a beast of the night.

My quivering arms snagged my bow as he eased closer. With each step the bear took, my eyes became larger and larger. My heart ached with pulsations of nervous excitement as my conscious failed miserably as a seasoned guide. I was as frazzled as a ball of yarn tattered by a militia of viscous cats. As my bow peaked and broadhead cocked into firing position, I let go!

The carbon arrow pierced into the giant’s vitals. The shot found its mark. I mustered a shriek of thrill that could be heard from the next hillside. My bear hunt was completely accomplished.

Echoes of life still resonate within as I recollect the fond chronicles of the north woods. The Canadian wilderness is home to awe-inspiring scenery freckled with translucent lakes clustered with fish and bountiful forests hiding an assortment of wild game. As any true hunter would realize; the harvest only lasts a mere second, but the entire hunting adventure lasts a lifetime.

August 20, 2009

Cygnet Lake Camp

-By Brandon Wikman

Some people find escape and diversion from everyday life in material items. They discover a single flare of content with simple tangible goods, but soon realize that their fate is left in shreds of momentary value. The secret of life is decorating your soul with ornaments of perpetual beauty that blossoms from God’s greatest bounty.

The arresting fascination of the wilderness has embraced a fairytale charm through the hearts of homebodies seeking grace. Virgin eyes can only attempt creating foggy parodies of what energy the Canadian wilderness would bring to their spirit. The sight of soft speckled sunlight glimmering through the canopy of birch trees; fresh spring water bubbling from a hillside blanketed with flowers meandering through a meadow; spruce trees plastered with white moss as if it were Christmas in the middle of summer. It is these spectacles of Mother Nature that marry our imagination with reality.

In today’s spoon-fed culture where materialistic fascinations of desire penetrate far deeper into the psyche than our conscious mind can even drift; we step into our own hell. Our intellect is carried and passed from precedent generations of want and desire. A mindless craze saturated with media manipulation and a congestion of celebrity do’s and don’ts. Much of society has slowly evolved into a compulsive product of tomorrow’s technology and urgency.

We’ve grown ignorant of the simplicities in life and maintain a hasty cycle of monotony throughout our existence. The world strays through a garden of gold blindfolded and oblivious to the riches buried beneath each blessed day.

Self-gratification is prized as what type of interior our vehicle sports. Modesty has slowly deteriorated from a mindset that solely craves triumph upon scaling the so-called “ladder of success.” Our culture has banded together to blend a poisonous concoction that consists of fame, fortune, and greed. Countless numbers of anemic souls suckle off the drips of toxic media corruption only to find their selves thirsting for another serving.

Too many of us are already dead. The essence of life must be altered back into a realistic perspective. Families must harbor the values of love, time, and tradition to maintain a steadfast birth of contentment. Traveling down the path of least resistance requires nothing more than an attitude lacking ambition and curiosity.

A week spent lavishing in the bush at Cygnet Lake Camp in northwestern Ontario has cleansed my tarnished soul. Relishing the moments of solitude tames the beast within. Inhaling a breath of clean air has never felt so good.

The untamed wilderness has a mystical way of bridging the gap that separates our heart from mind. Tranquility cannot be impersonated from the confinements of our home, but sprouted from the waving pastures of wild flowers. The cascading waterfalls upon ancient moss infested boulders. The teeny droplets of sparkling dew clung glowing on a spider web at dawn. These are a compilation of life’s’ greatest fairytales that you won’t find in your library.

Purify your livelihood by medicating life with a dose of Mother Nature. It will transform the way you live.

I’d like to thank Dan Schafer, owner of Cygnet Lake Camp, for providing me with the time of my life.

July 09, 2009

Whitetail Vocabulary Lesson

-By Brandon Wikman

Whitetail deer have a wide assortment of both verbal and nonverbal means of communication. They’re language and lingo has been carefully studied by animal biologists since the early years of the late 1800’s. Deer have a very unique style of engaging in conversation. Many of us have already heard of the basic converse from deer to deer. A whitetail’s vocabulary ranges from bleats, grunt, bellows, and bawls. The list below details the most popular whitetail dialect. You will generate a fresh idea of deer verbalization and a typical time frame of season they communicate.

Contact Call – Also referred to as the ‘lost call.’ The contact call can be matched to the idea of the kee-kee-run call made by wild turkey. Both whitetail and turkey share the same concepts of locating fellow members of their family or group. A doe will make a loud and deep bleat two to three times every 15 minutes. You may use this calling technique as a way to mimic a confused doe. It is perfect to use while walking into your setup to cover your noise while still-hunting. Deer usually speak this language during the pre-rut, which runs throughout the entire month of October.

Doe Grunts – Differ from buck grunts in several ways. Doe grunts are a deer’s way of saying “Hey…come here.” The doe grunt is used to persuade fellow deer in the area to come. You must keep this calling technique soft to mimic the call perfectly. The louder you make the grunt, the more aggressive it sounds. Doe have been known to use this lingo throughout the month of October as well.

Breeding Bellow – One of my favorite calls. This hyper doe gurgle will be heard during the heat of the rut. Many people think that the bellow and the “estrous bleat” are the same. The converse differentiates greatly; in fact, the ‘estrous bleat’ means, “I will be ready to breed soon.” The bellow means, “I’m ready to breed right now!” I’ve used this calling technique with the combination of rattling to coax in many mature bucks. You will not hear doe make this call during the early season. The primary time of this communication will be heard during the breeding season in November.

Tending Grunt – Another breeding-style call made by high-strung bucks. The grunt is a rapid succession of mini-grunts in a staccato pattern. You may have heard this call while sitting in your tree stand and suddenly catch a glimpse of a buck trailing a doe. A buck will typically produce 10-20 soft tending grunts during any moment of chase. I’ve watched many professional hunters on video mimic this call with a follow-up of an estrous bleat leading into a rattling session.

One key of success to the art of calling is to create a surreal situation. Adding realism in your calling will give you the upper hand when calling to deer that have been called to before. Be creative and try new strategies. I’ve heard of people scratching the bark off the tree you’re sitting in with antlers when rattling. My cousin has dropped rocks from his stand to mock the sounds of hoof traffic before banging together antlers of tossing out grunts.

Game calling has always been popular in duck and turkey hunting. Bring your grunt tube into the woods during every hunt. You never know when you may want to break it out and bring the big buck into range!

June 25, 2009

A June Haircut

-By Brandon Wikman

As June’s green foliage sprouts like the end of my shaggy bangs, I am reluctant to say that it’s time for some serious trimming. I typically head into the woods during this time for my ritual of summer pruning, clearing, and cutting. Trimming shooting lanes, scraping debris off of trails and marking them is important to do within the coming weeks.

The acreage I hunt only encounters my handsaw about once a year. Even though one cutting seems as little as shaving a few centimeters off a thick head of hair, the results will magnify. I’ve always been told that a little goes a long, long way. The more I experience this common phrase, whether it’s used for dispersing deer scent, providing bait, or hunting a particular stand; it couldn’t be anymore accurate. I’ve been taught to only snip, cut, and bust as few branches, shrubs, or undergrowth as needed.

I’ve witnessed several hunting buddies yank up their sleeves, take out their chainsaw and do work on the grounds near their tree stand. By the time they finish sinking their chainsaw into trees and piling brush, there’s not much cover left! I’ve seen them literally clear an entire 20×20-yard spot in the forest. The once thick and tangled vegetation that the deer loved transformed into a mini-sized field in the middle of the forest. This is bad for several reasons.

If you decide to turn a lush, green hunting spot completely bald and stricken of cover, you are doing more harm than help. Mature deer depend on weaving through thick cover and tangled brush in the cloak of sunset. It’s what makes them feel safe, secure, and invincible. By removing their cover, we’re actually convincing them to skirt the clear cutting and change travel patterns.

We all understand the process of regeneration. That is why it’s so important to make select and strategic cuts on timber. It opens the canopy and sheds beams of light to the ground, which in turn lift seeds from the soil into the air. If we slice into trees and bush hog the woodland’s floor intensely during the summer, new plant life nearly always takes longer to grow. Summer is known for its serious droughts and there’s no telling the amount of rainfall we may or may not receive. It may take years for the new vegetation to lift and the plant life to turn thick.

Instead of going cut-crazy and altering your honey holes’ effectiveness, make a few select openings that will improve your shooting capabilities. Chomp into the branches with a nice pair of shears or let the bite of a handsaw eat and do the work. As you begin piling brush comprised of tree limbs, shrubs, and bushes, use them to your advantage. I like to construct brush fences along certain deer trails and manipulate game movement to my benefit. Trails that intertwine downwind of my stand location are always choked by heaping piles of limbs or tipped trees. I’ve learned this technique from attending several seminars conducted by leading hunting professionals and land managers.

Last year I was able to sink an arrow into the vitals of a nice deer by persuading it to move according to my direction. Hunting is all about trying new strategies that will improve your odds of success. The fact of the matter is that there’s no secret, magical black box that will rein in monster whitetails every time we use it. The field-testing, first hand experiences, and trial-and-error are what ultimately make us better hunters. Tag two techniques with one job this summer by making select cuts and using the excess debris to your advantage.

April 30, 2009

Tagged Out and Burnt Out

-By Brandon Wikman

The anticipation and excitement of chasing a Wisconsin long-beard began to transform into pure dosages of frustration. As each day of my season ensued, the more aggravated I became. Last week I found out very quickly that hunting a central Wisconsin gobbler with a jumble of filming equipment was rather tiresome.

I was only able to hunt three of the five days for turkey because of my school schedule. Cramming in a quick three-day hunt was the best I could do.

Friday morning my nerves were pulsing with overwhelming enthusiasm. The first setup was over an alfalfa field. Many birds were using the area throughout the day. With my decoy placed a few yards in front of me, all I could do was wait for the show. I hunkered into the shrubbery and vanished with the help of my camouflage. As the refreshing sign of morning dawned upon me, the subtle glow of light pierced the horizon.

An eruption of gobbles crackled from the field’s edge high above the forest floor. Several male turkeys began claiming ground and shrieking boisterous messages across the land. It took only minutes until they pitched from their roosts and into the field. An alfalfa field is a perfect place for them to showoff, sift for bugs, and spot other turkeys.

A gobbler from across the field cranked his neck to listen to my calling. He looked as if he were interested. His colorful red and blue speckled head sank into his feathers. The bird started strutting my way. One-Hundred-fifty yards separated me any my quarry. I nestled the stock of my shotgun into my shoulder and pre-visualized the attack. Before I could even visualize pulling the trigger, the gobbler came to an abrupt halt. The bird threw his head up in the air, looked at the decoys, and darted across the open field. I sat in utter amazement, as I watched his beard swing back-and-forth. It was obvious he was decoy shy.

I hunted the rest of the day and it turned into a lot of walking, calling, and doubt. The birds had quit gobbling by 8am and the extreme hot weather didn’t help. My turkey forecast was not looking very good. All I could hope for is a new day.

Saturday, my alarm clock didn’t wake me up at 4am. Pouring rain and hurricane winds sent me back into sleep mode. I waited the entire day to step foot into the woods, but the weather never calmed.

Sunday morning was my last chance to strike a wad-full of ammo into a Wisconsin long-beard. I was more than willing to sit over the alfalfa field once again hoping to cross-paths with the decoy shy bird. The only difference was that this time I was not going to have a decoy. There wasn’t any reason or doubt that a bird would stroll into range this time. The morning routine of gobbling followed as I readied myself for a lovesick tom.

A barrage of brown specks began filtering through the corner of the field. My binoculars proved honest when I caught the glimpse of a dangling beard. The only problem was that he was escorting a handful of needy hens. I cranked up my calling hoping to entice the female’s curiosity. Instead, they took the gobbler back into the woods. My mind raced, temper escalated, and body numbed as I sat in a stupor. My gun was pointed directly in the air with my body half up ready to move, until I saw a flash of brown.

A silent gobbler had snuck behind our setup and was only a mere twenty yards away! In one fluid motion, I picked up my gun, swung the barrel and fired a kill shot. I was absolutely stunned.

The more I turkey hunt, the more I realize the unpredictability of them. This season was not like past seasons I’ve experienced. Birds didn’t want to cooperate and the weather didn’t help. Sometimes the sheer fact of being out in the woods with a shotgun in hand has enough potential to fill your tag in someway, shape or form. As the old saying goes, “You can’t kill one on the couch”.

June 12, 2009

3 Tips to Try

-By Brandon Wikman

Kansas has once again proved to be one of the best turkey hunting locations in America. Last week I was able to call a giant strutter into range during the beginning of our trip and ended up wrapping my Kansas license around his leg. This enabled me to purchase another tag and put more meat in the freezer.

David Schotte, the owner of Blue River Whitetails and I planned an all out turkey blitz. We had spotted an absolute monster of a tom. The bird looked like a 30-pound bowling ball and sported a beard that could’ve easily made two paintbrushes! It was the biggest bird I’ve ever seen in my life and one of the largest Schotte had ever laid eyes on.

The only problem hunting the goliath-sized bird was that he roosted with a flock of other birds. He’d always escort a handful of hens during fly-up and fly-down. He also bossed around four other mature gobblers. It was as if he was crowned king of the flock. We had to take in account that the gobbler pulled some serious baggage around. More turkeys means more eyes, greater odds of being picked-off, and a slim chance of calling the bird in. Our plan was quite simple. We’d pop a blind along the woods facing the field within shooting distance of where they all hit the ground from fly-down. It would require a lot of luck defeating the flock of fifteen. They had to fly down near the blind so I’d be able to toss up my shotgun through the window and fire. We also had to be super stealthy so the birds wouldn’t hear us in the morning opening up the blind or walking into the setup.

The morning of my hunt to kill the largest turkey in Kansas couldn’t have come any sooner. I swear I woke up with fire in my eyes and an overwhelming sense of anticipation. We arrived at Schotte’s extra early. It was critical that we arrived extra early so the sky was completely black and the birds were sound asleep. Schotte, my field producer, and I tiptoed through the corn stubble field as quiet as we could. Subtle step-by-step crunches marked our arrival en route to the landing pad of all the birds. All three of us silently opened the blind and walked it toward the woods-edge. The field producer and I huddled into the blind while Schotte sunk into the thick vegetation behind us.

The sky slowly transitioned from coal black to light blue. The stars soon vanished, horizon ignited with red, and the birds woke. The morning silence shattered with gobbles storming from limbs. Every bird was roosted within eighty-yards of the blind. I whispered to the video camera as the morning show unraveled. During my brief recap a hen pitched into the field no more than twenty-yards from the blind. I grabbed my shotgun and lifted it to the open window. Another hen landed and it was only time until the giant tumbled his way down to the ground. Both hens started acting nervous. They tossed up their head and began an alarm putt. My jaw nearly hit the ground and all of my hope shredded as a coyote walked toward the birds. It was game over within a moment. Every bird flew the opposite way into another field. As the sounds of the last gobbler flew from atop the tree, Schotte hustled me to the backfield. The stalk was on.

We jumped a creek and followed a deer trail up a bank, which led to where he thought the birds might cross. I positioned myself behind a thick briar bush in the shade. My eyes focused down the end of my barrel. The sound of a gobble reassured that me not only we were setup in the perfect place, but the timing couldn’t have been any better. A glowing fantail arose from the steep bank. The sun glimmered on the beautiful bird as he walked our way down the trail. I took a glimpse at his beard and realized it wasn’t the mega-beard, but that was fine with me. A few yelps from Schotte’s slate call deflated the bird out of strut. He picked his head up and I blasted a shot. The bird hit the ground and so did I! The amazing turn of events shook me up. I went from a serious low to an all time high within minutes.

We were able to use the terrain to our advantage thanks to Schotte’s keen understanding of the landscape. The hunt was truly unforgettable. The monster tom gets to live another year and only grow bigger! I look forward to coming back next year and setting my sights on the colossal bird that got away.

May 21, 2009

Hunting With Blue River Whitetails