This past weekend has proven to me once again that fall really is the best season of the year, hands down. The folks were in town, I got four days off work and the stress of a new job, and it was opening weekend of hunting season. Not to mention the fact that fall is prime time for streamers.
When you’ve had a shitty week, you just want to get out of town for while. Shane and I had been planning a float trip for a while, and he was able to score use of his cousin’s driftboat for the day. I do have to say, having a floor, cup holders, and an anchor in a driftboat sure as hell beat the set up we have in the raft right now…
We chose the Lower Madison mainly because it was close and neither of us had much money for gas, but also because of the proximity of some public land Shane knew about for deer hunting. Opening weekend of hunting season is a pretty crazy event. There are tons of people out, and if you sit and watch a hillside long enough, you’ll see a multitude of little orange dots crawling all over it. Some of the state land near Black’s Ford had a half dozen different groups on it as dawn broke. Our logic was that everyone would be hunting, and not fishing.
Personally, I had never done a true Cast and Blast before. But due to the supposed numbers of ducks along this stretch of river, it seemed a shame not to bring the shotgun in the boat. The day was the typical Shane and Jake fishing trip amateur hour: I kept bumping the oars along the bottom, we forgot to put the drain plugs in the driftboat, we got the boat stuck a few times in the shallows, missed two easy shots at a group of ducks passing by, and only hooked two fish. By about hour three the wind picked up and we were getting frustrated.
That river is an enigma. It gives you just enough good days to want to keep you coming, but those rare good days are few and far between. In all my days of fishing that river, it’s only given me one really great day. Most of the rest have been like Saturday; long, windy, and fruitless. But, as we both agreed, even a shitty day on the water beats a great day at work.
The rest of the afternoon was spent on some state land down the road a ways. Shane is from Michigan, and claims that while Montana hunters can hunt most things well, they don’t have a clue about whitetail hunting. So, we set up the Michigan way. We walked around a bit, found a good spot in some trees that gave us a good field of view and sat there for four hours. In the crazy wind, rain, and changing temperatures. “Those deer just pour out of the river bottoms” he said. Ha. We sat there until dark and didn’t see a damn thing. So much for that.
Over a couple beers and a cheap burger back in town, we decided to give it another try in the morning. Five am rolls around awfully early after a long day fishing. We headed out east of town to some BLM land I have been asked not to reveal. Getting there half an hour or so before shooting light and creeping through a field is pretty cool, I have to say.
After about 30 minutes of sitting around and still not seeing anything, I was already thinking about what to order for breakfast back in town when Shane spotted some mule deer across the field. We debated about shooting a doe and finally decided to go for it. Halfway through our stalk we spotted a buck in the group. I should probably point out at this point that I have never really hunted before. Every fall, fishing has been the main focus. I’ve dabbled in hunting a bit, but had never taken an animal. This year was going to be my year though.
You hear about things like buck fever and just blow it off as hyperbole. It’s very real though. About the time we saw that buck and I realized I might get a chance to shoot my first deer it hit me. All of sudden my breath was coming in short gasps, my hands were shaking like crazy, and I started to sweat. We stalked up closer, and waited for the right angle. He stepped out in the open, Shane stopped him perfectly broadside with a call, and I squeezed the trigger.
There are some things that you just know you will never forget. Good, bad, or ugly, they stick with you always. That morning is one of those times that I’ll always remember. My hands were shaking so badly I wasn’t sure where I had hit him, but even with my ears ringing like crazy, I could hear Shane whooping and hollering. The first shot had dropped him like a rock, a clean kill on my first deer.
Walking up and putting hands on that buck was pretty cool. I was still in shock, and had a big stupid grin plastered on my face. This was something I had wanted to do for years, and finally did it. Being able to fulfill a dream is a sweet feeling. Sharing it with a good friend who appreciates it makes it even better.
The buck wasn’t huge by any means, but to me it was perfect. First deer, first buck, first successful hunt ever. Yep, it was a good day. It’s the days like that that keep me going outdoors, whether it be with a fly rod or rifle in hand. You won’t make any memories sitting on your butt inside watching TV. Every day won’t be a good day out there. But if you put your time in, I think you’ll find enough to keep you going.
