Monthly Archives: November 2010

Daisy the Bird Dog

Me & my Daisy

Daisy is our Weimaraner.  She is a pointer who thinks she is a retriever, or maybe she is a retriever who is really a pointer.  She is an only child and a modest 95 pound beauty.  A little big for her bread, but don’t under-estimate her.  She does her job.  In the fall she points grouse, but just before winter she retrieves ducks.  She is our bird dog.   

Today we headed out to hunt ducks.  Daisy was excited as soon as she saw the shotguns come out of the safe.  She ran circles around us at the truck, telling us to “hurry up”.  We made a hike down to the low end of the stream and Daisy stayed close behind.  Daisy would watch every bird that flew over head closely and wait to see if it fell from the sky.  She was patient as a pointer who likes to retrieve can be.

Finally, the ducks came in.  They flew off in the distance and then lo and behold they turned and circle back.  Daisy watched and waited as Hank raised his gun and knocked one down.  The pointer, Daisy, watched it drop from the sky and ran to retrieve it.  She brought it directly back to Hank with her head held high.  She was proud to be our retriever!

Daisy is proud to retrieve Hank's duck.

It wasn’t long before we saw another flock.  The birds flew and Hank and I both got shots off.  Hank dropped two and I dropped one.  Daisy ran and retrieved Hank’s birds and then I hollard for her to come help find mine.  I ran to where I thought it had dropped, but it wasn’t there.  Daisy was proud to bring her assistance.  She gracefully jumped over the stream and began sniffing around and then jumped back over.  I have to admit, I was under estimating her when she took back to the other side.  I thought she was headed back to Hank’s birds which she already had gotten.  Then she popped her head up with a mouth full of duck as if to say “haha!  I found her!”  Shame on me for underestimating that retrieve. 

I am pretty darn proud of that Daisy.  She’s a good retriever for sure!

Daisy didn't want to stop for photos. There was work to be done.

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Categories: Bird dog, Duck hunting, hunting, Outdoor life, Weimaraner, Women in the outdoors | 2 Comments

Elk Hunt 2010

 This years fall elk hunt was, as always, a tough one.  I hunted third rifle season which ran November 6th through November 14th.  Third season is always a chilly one, and this year was no different.  We had it pretty easy the first weekend.  It at least got above 40 degrees during the day. 

The first Saturday of the hunt we only saw three or four cow elk where we hunted.  We spent 9 hours hunting that day and never saw or heard a bull elk. so we decided to go to a different are the next day.  Hank and I rode the horses for about 12 hours. that day  We rode through the brush, the creeks and then up the steepest mountains.  We finally heard a bull!  We dismounted quickly and quietly and weren’t even 25 feet from the horses when not one but two bulls jumped us!  It was completely unexpected by them and us.  The second I saw them I raised my rifle but they were gone in a flash.  Hank & I continued on that day and saw three more bulls.  None that were in positions where I could get a shot.  They were all in the thick, thick timber and hard to spot.  We sat and listened as the bulls bugled and chuckled until dark.  No elk were answering to calls and none seemed to even be moving.  First weekend gave me nothing, but I was still pumped for the weekend to come.

I finished my work week and headed out for the second weekend of third rifle season. 

Second weekend of third rifle season we woke up at 2:30 in the morning!  We ate a light breakfast, drank our coffee and then saddled the horses.  We headed up to the trail head with two of our great friends who had been hunting and not gotten anything yet either.

As we rode, I took note that I had three layers and was still chilled.  We rode for three hours in the dark up to an area where Hank and I had seen elk the weekend before.  We stopped and waited at the edge of a meadow for daylight to come.  I stood there and shivered.  My toes were cold in my 1000 gram Thinsulate boots and my fingers were frozen in my gloves.  We remained quiet and watched and listened as full light came.  We saw nothing and we heard nothing.  Finally, one of the guys in our group who musta been more frozen than me started walking.  He walked over to an old camp from seasons before and grabbed some firewood.  We all smiled and were pretty excited when we saw the smoke.  We had to go over there too and get warmed!  Thank you to the hunters who didn’t burn all the wood!!!

It was 10 degrees but felt like 10 below! We finally had to stop and warm up.

We warmed our toes by the fire for a little while.  When it died down we headed on our way.  Our friends headed one way and Hank and I headed the other.  We jumped about five cows and then tried to quietly look for more.  The snow was frozen and crunchy.  We weren’t doing a good job of sneaking on the horses so we decided to tie them up and try to hike a little.  We crossed fresh elk tracks, coyote tracks and bear tracks but never did see a bull.   Finally, we stopped our search when we crossed someone else’s fresh elk tracks.  Apparently the elk were being hunted pretty hard in this area.  We headed back to our friends and our horses and hunted our way out.   Along the way, Hank and I found trails in the snow from nearly 100 elk on our way out.  We were pumped!  This could really pan out.  We studied the area and came up with a plan for tomorrow’s hunt.

We arrived back at the truck at 3:30 in the afternoon to see the temperature was barely 39 degrees.  Back to base we headed to warm up from the day, relax and get a good night sleep. because tomorrow would be the last day and another early one.

Last day of season, and I hadn’t even gotten to see a bull through my scope yet.  We woke up at three in the morning, saddled and headed to the trail head.  Today I had on an additional layer of everything.  I knew it would be a long day.  I was going to get something today, or at least stay out until shooting light was gone trying.  The extra layers did the trick.  It was still cold, but I wasn’t shivering!

Hank and I headed to the area we knew there was a large herd of elk.  We were set up before light and ready.  We saw four cows, and then later we saw six cows, crossing through the thick timber.  Never saw a bull and never heard a sound.  The elk still weren’t talking.  We waited there as long as we could and then started our hike, looking for a bull.  We found plenty of fresh sign, but in this snow, we could not stalk quiet enough.  We hiked further.  We were at least warm from the hike, but I knew it was frigid out because of the icicles that had formed on my eyelashes.  We pushed on and found another good spot to sit and wait.  We could hear the elk walking over the ridges and up the hills.  We stalked, moving in very short spurts, stopping and standing, moving again.  We crossed our tracks from the day before, and right across those tracks were the fresh tracks of a mountain lion.

Fresh mountain lion track.

Obviously we weren’t the only ones hunting today.  These elk were getting a lot of pressure.  We headed to a meadow we knew of to have lunch and make a plan for the rest of the day.  At the bottom of the meadow, we came across a fresh elk rub.  There were pine needles and elk urine everywhere.  This bull was mad.  Still, we did not hear a bugle or cow call the whole morning.

A bull was just here, and he was mad about something!

While we sat and ate lunch I consulted with my guide.  Hank, my husband has a second job I think, taking me hunting!  He asked my opinion we debated on what to do.  He gave me two choices of meadows to set and wait until dark.  The snow just wasn’t going to let us spot and stalk anything.  We were going to have to play the odds and go with LUCK.  I told him “You are the guide.  You decide and that is what I want to do.” 

I listened to my guide.

He decided on another area.  We packed it up, hiked for a couple hours back to the horses and rode out of there.   Despite the cold (it was 38 degrees today when we got to the truck) we were soaking wet by the time we got back to the truck.  We decided to stop at base and change into dry gear.  We didn’t want to get chilled waiting until dark in wet clothes.  After that, we headed up the trail to go get me my bull!

We rode up the trail to the area my guide had chosen.  We snuck up and stalked a bull through the trees.  There he was!  It was as though She had placed him there for us.  He was in the middle of the clearing waiting for me.  My guide suggested the spot and BAM!  There he was.  After hiking, riding, freezing and waking up before the roosters, we found him.  It was hard work, but it paid off!

Mia Anstine and her 6x6 bull elk.

Categories: elk hunting, hunting, Women in the outdoors | Tags: | 6 Comments

Tip Of The Day

If you have been following my stories, you know that I have had a successful year so far.  I have to share a tip of the day for you if you are interested in knowing why I am successful. 

I listen to my guide.

Categories: hunting | 6 Comments

Music of the Mountains

Break time! I’m sitting in the woods having lunch and admiring the sights and sounds offered by Mother Nature.
I eat my lunch and I get to enjoy natures concert first hand.
The breeze is gently blowing. The fallen leaves crackle as they blow across her floor. The pine needles rustle and the aspen’s play!
The aspen’s play with each gentle gust. I hear a different drumming as the dried old standing trees bump against one another. There are high tones and low tones. Some are knocking and some rattling. Then the ones that are leaning, not yet fallen, begin to rub. They play the tone of a moaning trombone.
The breeze settles and then I hear it coming again. I can hear it way down the valley. It sounds like the gentle rolling of the river and then it nears an I get to hear the next song begin.

Categories: elk hunting, hunting, Outdoor life, Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Fruits of My Labor

We had hunted hard for days looking for a Colorado Mule Deer.   My muscles were soar and I was tired.  Hank and I loaded in the truck and headed to the trail head.  As we drove I told him “I don’t feel good today.  I’m tired and soar.”  He didn’t even acknowledge my words.  He knew that once we got there I would be good to go.  I sipped my coffee slowly this morning and thought of the days before.

I had been in the mountains and looking for a good shooter buck for days, and had not spotted many good shooters.  The couple of good ones I did see did not present good shots.  They were either too close to homes, or just plain not good shots to take. 

One buck that I so desperately wanted stood broadside on a ridge.  He looked directly at me as we did the stare down for about 15 minutes.  I stood there and wished for him to move.  He did not.  He stood there, sky lined with only his rib cage slowly moving in and out with his calm breaths.  I just felt he knew I couldn’t shoot him there.  Who knows what may have been on the other side of that mountain or where my bullet may fly as it passed through.  It just wasn’t a good shot.  He seemed to know it as he stood there staring at me.  I imagined him pointing at his two brown eyes with the two points of his hoof and then pointing at me.  He was giving me the stare down and he said “I got my eye on you sister.”  He won the stare down.  He never budged, and I slowly slunk back into the trees away from him.  I continued to sip my coffee and imagine.

I finished my coffee as we pulled up and parked at the trail head.  Today it was daylilight as we unloaded.  I jumped from the truck and threw on my blaze orange as I decided that buck wouldn’t get the best of me.  We headed off with high spirits, and the soarness quickly worked out of my fatigued muscles.  Right off, we spotted a cow elk through the trees.  She listened, but never saw us as we slowly and quietly snuck through the trees.

We were so excited today because spotted a lot of animals right away.  Today felt like the day.  We  jumped a small fork horn buck.  He hopped down and over the edge of the hill.  Then we saw 5 does.  We were looking at them when a tall 4×4 stood up and ran off.  He was the one!  We formed our game plan and made our stalk.

We stalked quietly across the flats and around the brush.  We went through the little valleys and I was ready.  My heart pumped with excitement.  We found his tracks and knew which way he went.  It would be hard to sneak up on him for sure.  The ground was dry and the sticks would crack under your feet.  We looked at one another and knew we had to be as silent as possible.  We turned and went down a small arroyo and onto the side of another hill.  We didn’t make a sound.

We silently stalked, and I had thoughts of the indian’s and how they are connected to Mother Earth.  I felt her beneath me and then I felt it as she kissed my cheek.  I knew today was the day.

Hank motioned to me.  There he was.  It was the 4×4.  Hank had spotted him.  We eased through the trees, sage brush and tumble weeds getting a clearer shot.  My heart jumped again.  There he was! 

I prepared for my shot as quietly and motionless as I could.  I steadied myself as I stood on rounded river rocks.  I adjusted my rifle on my shooting stick.  I centered my cross hairs.  I focused. I took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger.  I quickly pulled my bolt, ejected the spent shell and re-loaded.  Looking through the scope again, I didn’t see him!  I looked up over my rifle to double-check….  NOTHING! 

Hank, whispering, whooped and cheered!  “You dumped him!”  I couldn’t believe it.  I looked again and waited just in case I hadn’t hit him good.  I looked and then pulled my binoculars up.  I couldn’t see him.  Hank said “Mia, you dumped him.”  I still stood there.  I was ready for another shot.  Hank said I will show you.  He ran around the ridge and to where the buck was as I watched and waited.  All the while, I was ready just in case that buck moved or got up.  I watched and watched and then I saw Hank coming from the trees.  He moved toward where the buck was with a smile on his face.  He pointed and smiled then gave me the thumbs up.  The buck had dropped right where he stood, and lay right behind a dead cedar tree.  I had dropped him!

Results of hard work and persistence.

Categories: hunting, Mule Deer Hunting, Outdoor life | Leave a comment

Not This Day

Fall, 2010.  I was pumped to have drawn a Mule Deer buck tag for second rifle season in Durango, Colorado.  We were up before the crack of dawn.  I guzzled my coffee and donned my layers of camo.  It was a brisk fall morning and I knew I needed to wear enough clothes for the worst weather, but also be able to remove some in the event the sun decided to shine.  We drove off in the darkness before anything was stirring. 

We arrived at the bottom of the mountain and unloaded from the pick up.  I donned my blaze orange and slung my rifle over my shoulder.  It for sure felt like fall.  We hiked up the mountain and as the sun began to rise we saw the frost sparkle off every tree and blade of grass.  It was a cool 23 degrees in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. 

Before we could even walk more than 100 yards from the truck, we spotted a descent little buck.  He stood there broad side mocking me as he knew it was still too dark to shoot, and we were too close to the road and houses.  I could not take him there, or should I say, I would not take him there.  I admired him and imagined all the other deer we would find on the mountain.

We hiked along a small game trail and the fog rolled in so thick we could barely see ten feet ahead of us.  I could feel the moisture in the air as the thick air rolled past.  I wondered what could be nearby that would hear of smell us and never be seen.  We hiked quietly through the oak brush and suddenly heard a crashing sound as something winded us and ran, breaking a branch.  We whispered about what it must have been.  We were in deer country, but we both decided it had to have been an elk.  It’s stomping sounds as it ran were much too heavy to have been a deer.  We looked for tracks and sure enough found a big bull track.  We were looking for a buck so we continued on.

The fog cleared out and the rain began.  The rain beat on the hood of my jacket as the wind tried it’s hardest to blow it back.  We hiked on and on, stopping to scan across the valley.  We looked under the trees, in the brush and fields to see if we could spot a buck.  Nothing.  I stood there with the water gushing off the front of my hood and I was thankful for my many layers and great gear.  I was dry as could be beneath it all. 

With each step my legs grew heavier as the mud clung on to my hunting boots.  It held my feet down as I lifted my legs and ascended the mountain.  With the thick mud hanging on, each step was tough as we slipped on the smooth, wet river rock.  I panted as quietly as I could and we pressed on.

Atop the ridge, the rain slowed a little.  The wind still continued.  It ripped across my face.   I held tight to my hood and ducked my head as we dumped over the edge of the hill to get out of the fierce gusts.  I was sure the deer were doing more than we were.  They were bedded down tight.  I wished for the weather to turn, and my wish was granted shortly after that as the hail came.  It didn’t last long, and it was just the last attempt by mother nature to get me off the mountain.  The attempt was half hearted and we remained as the sun began to show through the gray clouds.

I removed my hood as the sun peeked out.  I began to smile as the sun kissed my frozen nose and I remembered that all these challenges were exactly why I enjoyed hunting so much.  I love to get out and feel mother nature.  I like to become connected.  Most of all, I enjoy the challenge. 

I hiked as silently as I could feeling the earth under my feet.  With each step I felt the rocks or the sticks beneath my boots.  I adjusted my weight as I moved so as to not make a sound as well as to keep my balance on the slick, wet terrain.  I moved a little more easy now that I wasn’t defending myself from the weather.

The deer also began to move.  We spotted four does that had come out in the sun.  They peered at us as though they knew it was not them that we were looking for.  I admired their beauty, whispered “Good morning ladies.” and hiked down away from them and across the valley, through a bog and up another ridge. 

"Good morning ladies"

The temperatures were rising and a now I was beginning to become soaking wet from the inside as I sweated in my layers of gear.  We took a break while I silently slipped some layers off and put them in my pouch, leaving my rain coat on because I knew Colorado….  the weather may change at any time.

Once my gear was fully adjusted we hiked on.  We spotted fresh elk tracks in the mud.  What?!  More elk tracks down here in the lowlands?  This time of year this should be deer country.  We searched around for buck tracks and spotted a few doe tracks, MORE elk tracks and a couple more doe tracks, and then even MORE elk tracks.  We followed the top of the ridge, keeping to the trees and had the same experience nearly the whole way until I spotted some gray ears with white tips.  Yes, it was more does.  Five this time.  I scanned around me to see if a buck could be hiding among them in the trees, but there was no buck in the group.  They looked at me as I stood motionless and then they slowly walked over the ridge. 

We knew there would be more deer so we hunted on.  We hiked all day stopping to glass across the hills.  We spotted small bucks across the valley.  They were nothing large enough to shoot.  We spotted nearly 40 does that first day, but never a good shooter buck.  I didn’t let the day dampen my spirits.  It was so great to be out there, and I still had several days to go!  I went to bed with soar muscles that night from the hiking and dreamt of the days to come.

Categories: hunting, Mule Deer Hunting | 1 Comment

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