Preparations for the upcoming gun deer season are largely complete. Rifles have been sighted in, and there are enough rounds left over in the ammo box to start a war. I've even washed up the linens for the bunkhouse accommodations - amazing how quickly five years can go by.
Every scrape, rub and Holstein-sized deer track has been reported to members of the Five Oaks hunting party via the annual series of Buck Reports. There are only a few exaggerations built therein, including sightings of Old Thumb Sucker.
The buck was first seen some 12 years ago - huge with a drop tine that appeared at a distance to curl around in front of his face
The great stag still roams the hills and valleys along McKenna Road, we are certain. He disappears for most of the year, only to come alive in someone's fantasy world when no one else is around to verify the sighting.
E-mail traffic flowing back and forth details each family marksman's claim to having shot the most, the biggest or most handsome bucks. The criteria for bragging rights spring from self-indulgent determinations about perfect symmetry, number of points or total number of points from all bucks taken throughout our entire deer-hunting history.
If all else fails, someone will narrow the discussion to accomplishments from last year, the last five years - or whatever it takes. Included are disdainful observations of the accomplishments of other, less worthy members of the group - or worse.
Unsure about whether his Chicago-based brother will be able to make it for opening day, Jason sends out a word of encouragement.
"Hope you can make it, Brian. I'll even promise not to make any comments about your nose that looks like an Idaho potato."
In return, a not-so-veiled threat of bodily harm concludes with this ultimatum. "If you don't stop, I'm telling Mom."
Finding the Oshkosh sibling at fault, I finally put an end to the bickering.
"I'm thoroughly disappointed in the characterization of your brother's nose looking like an Idaho potato. As you are well aware, we have perfectly good potatoes right here in Wisconsin that are an approximate replica of the boy's proboscis.
"You should be promoting our own nutritious food stuffs instead of that Idaho junk food. Besides, you must refrain from undermining your brother's self-esteem by connecting him with the state of Idaho - a word that begins with "Ida" and ends in "ho."
We have already enjoyed occasional get-togethers to hunt since the bow season opened in September. Darin got a nice eight-pointer in late October, and we've taken a few does to balance out the herd.
Finding time to hunt requires some imaginative negotiations on their part. Fortunately, seasonal maladies requiring time off from work often manifest themselves at this time of year. The most debilitating seems to be lumbago.
When growing up, I would hear older folks talk about the condition, something akin to arthritis. In modern times, it materializes about the same time as the beginning of the rut and continues to at least the end of November.
Lumbago is a great one when calling in sick. The boss has probably never heard of the disease and, not wanting to appear stupid, has little choice but to be sympathetic.
"Really, that's tough; I hope it's not too serious."
"I'm sure it's temporary. But, I'll tell ya" when it hits, you can't move a muscle for hours at a time" - as in sitting in a tree stand high up in a huge white pine, overlooking the Pecatonica River and the brush-choked marsh just the other side.
And, at the end of the day, sharing accounts of fresh encounters with a magnificent white-tailed deer. Life is good.
- Lee Fahrney is the Times outdoors writer. He can be reached at (608) 967-2208 or at fiveoaks@mhtc.net.
Every scrape, rub and Holstein-sized deer track has been reported to members of the Five Oaks hunting party via the annual series of Buck Reports. There are only a few exaggerations built therein, including sightings of Old Thumb Sucker.
The buck was first seen some 12 years ago - huge with a drop tine that appeared at a distance to curl around in front of his face
The great stag still roams the hills and valleys along McKenna Road, we are certain. He disappears for most of the year, only to come alive in someone's fantasy world when no one else is around to verify the sighting.
E-mail traffic flowing back and forth details each family marksman's claim to having shot the most, the biggest or most handsome bucks. The criteria for bragging rights spring from self-indulgent determinations about perfect symmetry, number of points or total number of points from all bucks taken throughout our entire deer-hunting history.
If all else fails, someone will narrow the discussion to accomplishments from last year, the last five years - or whatever it takes. Included are disdainful observations of the accomplishments of other, less worthy members of the group - or worse.
Unsure about whether his Chicago-based brother will be able to make it for opening day, Jason sends out a word of encouragement.
"Hope you can make it, Brian. I'll even promise not to make any comments about your nose that looks like an Idaho potato."
In return, a not-so-veiled threat of bodily harm concludes with this ultimatum. "If you don't stop, I'm telling Mom."
Finding the Oshkosh sibling at fault, I finally put an end to the bickering.
"I'm thoroughly disappointed in the characterization of your brother's nose looking like an Idaho potato. As you are well aware, we have perfectly good potatoes right here in Wisconsin that are an approximate replica of the boy's proboscis.
"You should be promoting our own nutritious food stuffs instead of that Idaho junk food. Besides, you must refrain from undermining your brother's self-esteem by connecting him with the state of Idaho - a word that begins with "Ida" and ends in "ho."
We have already enjoyed occasional get-togethers to hunt since the bow season opened in September. Darin got a nice eight-pointer in late October, and we've taken a few does to balance out the herd.
Finding time to hunt requires some imaginative negotiations on their part. Fortunately, seasonal maladies requiring time off from work often manifest themselves at this time of year. The most debilitating seems to be lumbago.
When growing up, I would hear older folks talk about the condition, something akin to arthritis. In modern times, it materializes about the same time as the beginning of the rut and continues to at least the end of November.
Lumbago is a great one when calling in sick. The boss has probably never heard of the disease and, not wanting to appear stupid, has little choice but to be sympathetic.
"Really, that's tough; I hope it's not too serious."
"I'm sure it's temporary. But, I'll tell ya" when it hits, you can't move a muscle for hours at a time" - as in sitting in a tree stand high up in a huge white pine, overlooking the Pecatonica River and the brush-choked marsh just the other side.
And, at the end of the day, sharing accounts of fresh encounters with a magnificent white-tailed deer. Life is good.
- Lee Fahrney is the Times outdoors writer. He can be reached at (608) 967-2208 or at fiveoaks@mhtc.net.
