All About Pocket Knives

Another great hunt Caleb! Sounds like a lot of fun and also that you have some decent and welcoming people up there in PA. I sure hope you are keeping a hunting journal with your stories; I've been keeping one since 1983 (I should have started in the late 1960's when I became serious about hunting). Believe me, eventually the stories will run together, you'll remember part and forget part, merge one tale into another tale (maybe your uncle does this!) unless you keep a "story book", a good hunting journal. For years I wrote mine on notebook paper or on a legal pad, stapled a picture to it (if I had one) and then put them in a binder - today I have three big binders, and the third one is nearly full. OH

OH, I actually just started to log my hunts this year, stepping back in time through my memory banks to get those fine details that play into the memory. I'm still racking my brain on a few of the hunts because I don't remember the years, I remember the deers though.

Here are a few photos to go along with last years bear season.

This little creek is known as Lamentation Creek. This is a Wheatherby Mark 5 Ultra Lightweight. Makes for an easy carry when hiking long distances.

Early morning sunrise.

Here is the bear our new friend was able to tag.
Apparently this bear wasn't alone, but it was leading the way and walked within twenty yards of the hunter when he dropped her with a .257 Roberts.

Great scenery and pictures of it Caleb, especially the bear. I've toyed several times over the years with buying a Weatherby Mark V (really liked the old West German made), but was always put off by the weight (quality is superb). I didn't even know they offered an Ultralite - is that your 30-06 SPRG and what does it weigh? OH

In search of darkness.

There was a time that when I heard the word "hunting", all I thought about were squirrels. It was my number one passion when it came to hunting. I couldn't imagine a better time than being at the base of a tree mid morning as the sun warmed the branches overhead, maybe a 22. cal rifle cradled in my arms or my trusty Remington 870 in 12 gauge across my lap, either way I was happy. I was able to find peace and a space to think when I ventured that hollow alone with just my little Sako P72 topped with a Weaver K-4. I learned to slow up and scan the tree tops or branches that lay in the sun's light. Many time I found a good grey sunning it's self in the morning's first rays.

I had a ritual of sorts, I would pick my way through the brush and leaves to make it to my favorite tree, I'd clear out my seat a little and sit down, then taking whatever pocket knife I had on me, I would open it up and set it in my lap or maybe stick it into the ground. I did this because our tick population has exploded and I used that knife to end their attack on my pant legs. If I killed as many squirrels as I did ticks, I'd have to buy a new freezer.

I would sit motionless, listening to the leaves in the slight breeze, hoping to hear that unmistakeable rustle of a squirrel in search of acorns. It helped that I was propped against an old oak tree that always seems to produce a pretty good crop. I killed many grey squirrels and a few beautiful fox squirrels under that tree. I spoiled myself and turned myself off of the death. I loved the time, the hunt, the image of a squirrel taking in his moment of silence and warmth as he too enjoyed the sun's rays. I found myself unable to pull the trigger and thus, I've shied away from hunting them as hard as I once did. To be continued.

OH, Indeed this rifle is chambered in 30-06 SPRG.
It weighs approximately 6 pounds, or 5.75 if you are getting down to the nitty gritty. I'm not sure how much she weighs fully loaded and topped with a good scope, but I know she weighs a ton less than our Marlin in 444.

I know Wheatherby has some rifles built in Japan, but this one hails from California.

Great pics JTS!!!

In search of darkness 2.

My burning desire to hunt bushytails was renewed a little this year when my uncle called me up and wanted to know if I wanted to head for camp. We had some basic maintenance to handle at camp so we used that as our excuse to head to camp for a weekend. Riding along were our pair of 870's and some blaze orange. After taking care of the issues at camp we turned in for the night knowing we would search to get some life goals completed the next morning.

See, my uncle John and I share the same desire to wrap our hands around the cape of a black squirrel. A black squirrel is just a color faze grey squirrel, but we don't have them around our place at home. The same woods we bear hunt though seem to be loaded with them, until we hunt them that is.

Waking up the next morning we headed for town, the little town of Tionesta Pa is sleepy, almost as sleepy as I was without having that hit of caffeine to get me going, but soon I would have as much coffee as I wanted and a hot breakfast to go with it, fuel for the day.

We hunted old haunts and new lots in hopes to get a black squirrel, but we were met with a silence in the woods I've never experienced before. Even the birds didn't have a morning song to share. Bleak is the only way to describe it, it was almost as though they heard we were coming to town and left for vacation. No birds, chipmunks, squirrels, nothing.

My most exciting find being an acorn that the deer or turkeys hadn't found first.
It was a beautiful time and a wonderful location, it left me with nothing but the desire to hunt harder for one. I was almost gonna be there tomorrow, but Jr went off and got married so we are having a party... priorities right?

Wake up Buck.

I've spent most of my deer hunting career with my uncle John by my side. John is a very talented mechanic, machinist, electrician, plumber..... there are few things he can't do. He helped me change the breaks, rotors and calipers on my truck while being very sick in bed. I'd walk in, wake him up and ask what a certain "thingy" was and he would in great detail explain how I need to replace it, or remove it. My mechanical ability isn't my major selling point in life, but I'm good with following instructions. His impact on my life is an undeniable one.

Field hunting isn't for everyone, you sit and wait, and wait, and wait until finally something either gets hungry or gets bumped and runs for cover. So, it has the ability to go from zero to sixty real quick. My uncle has had some great success in his hunting career as far as getting deer the freezer goes, but up until recently he hasn't really gotten the chance to get a good buck. Things changed a few seasons ago as we sat on stand, my grandfather to my left and John to my right. The boredom must have set in because John and my grandfather were sawing logs, admittedly my eyelids were getting heavy too.

Before the season started we agreed that I would get the first shot at any legal deer, we take turns. As I fought sleep something suddenly caught my eye. It was the trot of a good buck as he made his way for shelter in a pine grove across from our stand. I bumped John and told him "good buck, shoot it". I didn't even move for my own rifle as I watched John settle the crosshairs of his old Redfield scope on the bucks neck, his Browning barked death as the buck tumbled to the ground. We were both so excited we were shaking hands and hollering at the first good buck taken off the farm in years.

No TV buck monster, but a great deer for us. A season later I found myself with a full tag after the first couple hours of our season, having shot a small eight. I had my deer quartered and in the cooler, but I had to be out there. I got to the stand and joined John as his spotter. He would dose and I would keep my eyes peeled. With an hour left of daylight I saw movement a few properties over and over a thousand yards away. We glasses a real good buck making way for a portion of pine grove that connects with our's. I told John that if the buck kept his speed he would be out in front of us with half an hour of daylight left, it was a guess at best.

With about a half hour of good shooting light left John lurched for his rifle. "There he is" he whispered in a silent shout. I thought he was joking, but soon my eyes fell upon the buck who burst out of the pines and ran head on to us. John's excitement affected his aim as I watched turf fly after his first shot. The buck zagged, but kept heading for us, again he fired and bits of ground flew, this time behind the buck. Racking another round John steadied and shot, nothing. With the third shot John chambered his fourth and final round, the buck froze and so did time.

"Boom, Whomp" The buck fell into a heap a hundred and fifty yards away. I handed John my rifle in case the buck got back up and I loaded his. The buck never moved again and soon we had another bruiser down. Unfortunately I can't find a pic of this buck right now.

Here is the only one I found. It's the one on the right, not the best mounts.
Here is John with me taking care of my buck in the back ground.

John got another good one this year, this time by himself. I was just sitting down to dinner when I got a phone call asking for a knife. John always carries a Buck 110 during hunting season, but he lost his.... guess who got a new Buck 110 for Christmas?

Here is his buck from this year.

Shadows of hunters.

I shivered at the cold breeze as the temperatures continued to drop right along with the setting sun. "This can't be right" I kept telling myself as looked down at my GPS. Five miles away the system read, that how far I had to go to get back to the truck, in the back of my mind I knew it wasn't right, but I needed to trust my equipment, so down the logging road I went.

The arrow pointed me into the thick woods as darkness began to really settle in the big woods, I followed on anyhow. I found an older gentleman smoking a cigarette and cradling a Savage 99, I nodded and passed him by. Soon I passed an even older gentleman smiling wide, he was dawning a faded woolrich plaid jacket and a very faded filson hat and vest combo, slung on his back an old Winchester model 70. I felt his stair on my back as I exited the clearing and cut into the woods.

I stood and took a minute to collect my thoughts and make my decision, continue on or head back and find the old roads? Technology can't be wrong.... right? I followed my GPS as it led me down a steep ravine to and a creek that was running high with all the recent snow fall. I jumped it and felt my ankle give slighty, instantly sore, I was batting a thousand.

My phone didn't have a lot of battery life left and soon it would be my only source of light. I decided I might not get out of the woods tonight so I took a picture of a beautiful waterfall, I thought maybe if I didn't get myself out of here my family would appreciate something like this little token of thoughtfulness.

Climbing the even steeper hill I found myself in a slight panic, nothing was familiar and I still had miles to go. "Don't go this way" is all I thought as my breath graced the nights air. I quickly turned back around and tried to find my footprints in the snow as it still almost glowed amongst the surrounding darkness. I fully committed to getting back to that old logging road, my ankle throbbing as I half jogged half ran to be complete darkness.

I cut the familiar trail I had previously descended and it made for easier going. Cresting the top of the hill I felt eyes fall upon me once more. "How are you making out"? an old and comforting voice called out, smiling I shook my head "not good" I replied. I found the voice belonged to the old man in the plaid get up, he half laughed half smiled as he welcomed me in the direction of their truck. "See, I told you know one leaves for the woods this late", he yelled out to his hunting companion, "I thought something was up" his friend replied. I explained my situation to the old men who graciously offered me a ride to my truck.

As soon as I got in their truck it began to snow as if a blizzard were setting in. The snow piled quickly as we rolled down the old logging road. The men shared hunting stories that go back to before my parents were born, they told me of how things have really changed not only outside of the hallowed big woods, but in life in the town in which they grew up and still lived. I would have been in big trouble with all the snow falling, angels were clothed in plaid and smoking Malboros that night.

Good stuff Caleb! Hope you continue to share your North woods hunting experiences with us.
Really enjoyed the read .
The last line of your account give us something to consider......"angels were clothed in plaid and smoking Marlboros that night."
Treefarmer

Caleb you definitely have a gift as a writer. I love reading your stories and I enjoy watching you grow as a person and as a hunter. We really do miss you when you stay away, even though I understand a young man such as yourself has many other things to do besides hang out with a bunch of old guys in cyber space.

Okay, the 2nd phase of deer season came in the 12th of December and I haven't felt like going to the woods. Sciatica issue is now gone but bad right knee is hamperin' my ability to climb the shootin' house ladder, so I went to town and bought a 12 foot piece of camo material and wrapped it around the front and sides of the cart. Bingo, a rollin' deer blind, all it took was a couple of spring clamps and a few clothes pins . The woods are flooded, the food plot is flooded, the feeder has standing water around it but I went and sat this afternoon. Just me, the skeeters and the frogs. The frogs were so loud it was almost too much. Nothin' showed up but at least I got to go and since we have about 7 weeks left, maybe I'll get to kill a couple before it's over. Might even see about gettin' up early again .
Treefarmer

Glad you figured a way to go hunting Philip!!

Knice rig!

Good luck!

Way to go Philip.

Field expediency at it's finest Philip! Sounds like you need a ThermaCell down there - love mine, mostly useful during spring turkey season but it got a lot of use while deer hunting during this warm, wet winter. OH

Very nice TF!

Adapt and overcome !

Well done Phil.

Good job TF now get out there I gut my first tree rat with my new .380

Dang dogg. Good shootin' with a short barrel pistol. He must have run up your leg and sat on your knee. Lucky you didn't blow your knee cap off.

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Nawww.. That's the one he keeps as a pet.. He is just snoozing!!! John