Thislewaite wma

Thistlewaite Wildlife Managemenat Area has always piqued my curiosity. It has a type of environment/habitat I have very little experience with and presents a unique challenge testing my hunting skills. It boasts of a beautiful hardwood forest with the floor covered with a massive sea of green palmetto plants. The first time I ventured there was with my cousin Bobby. We wanted to do a little exploring, I was intimidated by the impenetrable head-high palmeto fronds. They were so thick my eyes couldn't see where I was placing my feet on the ground. It made me uncomfortable. I had a particularly nasty encounter with a massive rattlesnake in the past, where one could see. With the impression it left on me, being blind made me a little nervous. It didn't get any better during the next three days Bobby and I spent there in a pouring rain. At the conclusion of which I tucked my tail in and scampered for home, vowing I would never return, but I did.



Thistlewaite is managed for trophy whitetails with antler restrictions. The idea of having an encounter with one of these brutes wouldn't allow the thought of not going back die a natural death. It continued to gnaw on me. The place also has a youth hunt which suspends the antler restrictions to allow the youngsters an opportunity to harvest smaller sized bucks and thus increase their chance of success.



My son Matthew was old enough to supervise a youngster and graciously took the time to accompany his brother Patrick, to the woods. I had Christopher. We decided to hook up the old trailer and go visit Thistlewaite. We had to park the trailer in an rv campground in the back of a loud juking, foot stomping, fist fighting, women chasing, right place to have a good time type of bar. It was the only park I could locate in the Washington community. I siezed the opportunity to point out and try to educate the young men on the many hazards of drinking and chasing wild women. It's amazing how much potency alcohol has to affect the behavior of otherwise, well behaved-good men and women.



We spent the weekend bleary-eyed and sleepy in the woods due to the lack of sleep from being forced to listen to the cranked up juke box all night. We had found plenty of deer sign in a recently logged area and set our stands to hunt. Unfortunately the deer may have seen our heads jerking while trying to stay awake and avoided us. Whatever the reason, we didn't see any animals, but the weekend was well spent. We went home with our bonds to one another strengthened with a precious new memory. I promised myself again that I would not return.



Well folks, this past Saturday I broke that committment to myself. My friend Ian, whom I call "Number One" since he is the only archer to ever beat me in a state tournament and I . . . returned to Thistlewaite.



I fessed up to my competetive pedigreed-state champiom calibered companion and let him know how timid I was of the environment of the area. He was dutifully intrigued by my truthfulness and laid my fears to rest. I will always be grateful to Number One for doing that and for increasing my confidence factor. I am a much better person for it. Confession works, you may want to try it.



We arrived in the predawn darkness with a sliver of silver moon hanging in the night's star studded sky. A chill was in the air. Very few hunters were evident(I think we know why . . . good sense and rattlesnakes!). We had the palmetto sea to ourselves. We fought our way through the fronds and twisted our way through a clear cut and almost tripped with every step. Trip me up limbs lay hidden in our path. I had grown frustrated after traveling a very far distance . . . of about a hundred yards and called a hasty retreat.



We returned to the walking path covered in water and spongy with a sticky-clinging type of mud. Our rubber boots became heavier with each step as we traveled deeper into the green sea. The sleepy sun began making its first appearance and we found a place where several deer had recently crossed the path and entered the palmettos to our right. Prime time was upon us and Number One said he would follow the animals into the woods and climb a tree to hunt. I agreed it was worth a shot and said I would continue down the trail a short distance and do the same. We also concluded he would stay in his stand until I returned at eleven o'clock.



Three hundred yards or so later, I discovered a second deer crossing and backed off the trail to climb my own tree. You can imagine my pleasant surprise to discover a buck rub nearby and a scrape. My feelings of frustratons fled and I became hyper-charged with a positive enrgy expecting to see a deer.



Once I had climbed and sat above the tops of the palmettos and piles of debris left behind by the logging operation, I could see a briar patch the deer had eaten down to the ground. The day was very peaceful. Not a breeze stirred while the birds sang, twittered and fluttered. Time flew as I became lost in thought and prayer, thanking God for the wonderful gifts and the time to be there with Him and my friend Ian.



A loud noise rudely shattered my tranquility and intruded into my consciousness. It sounded like someone had picken up a switch and heartily whacked a palmetto frond a single blow or maybe a squirrel had knocked a rotten limb loose from a tree to crash to the earth. Two more sounds of the same nature soon followed, puzzling me more. Could it be a deer? With the small amount of experience I had in this type of environment, I didn't know. But with the descending volume of sound with each whack, it soon became clear that whatever was creating the noise was moving the wrong way, away from me and Number One. To be on the safe side I pulled out my call and grunted twice. An eruption of crashes occurred as a result with each louder than the last!



I thought it must be a deer, but being as it was behind me, I dared not turned to look and see. The slightest movement before I was ready to shoot could alert the animal to my presence and send it fleeing. The noise stopped. I grunted. A closer crash resulted. WHACK! grrrrrunt! WHACK! grrrrunt. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK . WHACK . . .whack . whack . . whack . . .whack______gone! And I still didn't know with a hundred percent certainty what it was. The good news was that I had turned it and it was now headed to my compadre. My ace in the hole. My can't miss state champion archer. The master of calm when the heat is on. There's no other person I would prefer to be watching my back than my ol' reliable, THE "Number One" Ian. If it was deer, I knew the odds were high we'd have some groceries for the table.



I waited until eleven with no further activity worth mentioning and climbed down. I packed my gear and started down the trail to meet my partner, wondering if he had seen what had made the noise. My head was down searching for and seeing the same old tracks I had seen on the way in. I began nearing the spot where the two of us had split up and noticed fresh tracks in the mud and looked up. I was sort of surprised to see Ian sitting on log a short distance away. he said he was going to wait until he saw me to get down from the tree. And then it dawned on me as to why he was down.

I pointed down to the new tracks and said, "Ian! You shot this deer!"



"Deadeye, I've got a story for you. Come have a seat."



It's always a good idea to leave the deer alone for a while to give it time to expire and I couldn't think of a better way to spend it than listening to a good story. He scooted over the rough bark of the cut tree trunk to make room for me to sit down. He refused to tell me what he shot right away and began spinning the tale of what happened during his hunt in a slow-agonizing way.



"Deadeye, I found an intersection in the deer trail and climbed a tree. I faced west to keep the rising sun out of my eyes. I heard a strange sound around 8:15. Something was making a crashing type of noise in the palmettos. I turned around to see what it was and saw three deer headed straight to me. One appeared to have a stiff or injured leg and was hopping over the top of the palmettos. Two were big does and one was a button buck. All three continued to nervously glance behind them, looking over their shoulders, as if a buck was following(remember, I had been using the buck grunt call). I tried to find him, but couldn't. One of the does left the pack and headed off in a different direction, by itself. The stiff legged doe and young buck continued to come to me and were getting closer. They went behind a large pile of fallen logs and blocked me from their sight. I stood up to get ready. I managed to do it without alerting them. They had no clue I was in the area and were almost to me. They passed behind a second pile of logs and I drew the bow back, placed my eye to the sight and waited for them to show. The stiff legged doe showed first. Everything was right. I decided to take the shot to put her out of her misery. I released the arrow and sent it on its way." He paused a long time here and gave me a deep-pondering look.



"Quit that Number One, tell me what happened, finish the story so we can go find her," I said hoping to spur him onward. he was killing me with anticipation and I was getting worried the coyotes would find the deceased animal first.



"Deadeye, I watched the arrow leave the rest and zero in on her shoulder. The flight was true and going to hit the mark(as if I had a doubt)," He paused again.



"Come on Man, PLEASE, FINISH THE STORY!" As you can see, my excitement was trying to get the best of me.



"Calm down Deadeye. I will," he replied and paused an inordinately long amount of time again before continuing. "Like I was saying, the arrow flew true, but at the sound of the bow, the doe dropped flat on her belly and hit the ground. I watched the arrow sail cleanly over her back, Deadeye I missed!"



I felt my young friend's pain and was momentarily shocked speechless and wanted to cry(not really). I've heard of this happening to others before and it's not at all unusual, but to me it didn't really matter. I left Thistlewaite Saturday with what I had hoped to recieve at the start of the day. I went home with another great hunt in the bag, another good adventure and most important a wonderful memory of a day spent in God's great outdoors, bonding with my new friend. Memories . . . its what life is. Try to make your days count too, in a positive way.



Father, thank you . . . for showing me the way.


P.S. Stay tuned, "No Primer" Shannon and I plan to go back next Saturday for the final hunt of the season!