the limby oak

Farmers sometimes do it, but I think hunters do it more. That is, name specific areas on a tract of property in order to relate to other hunters where they are talking about. The Low Swag, the Locust Grove, the Gas Well Hollow, the White Rocks. I had the day off Monday and was able to <finally> get to bowhunt with my dad for an evening. We’d heard of a massive buck running a neighboring farm to the farm we like to bowhunt, so we set off in pursuit, knowing a likely place where this dude might come chasing does…the Jimmy Marshall Point…which is the point off the end of the Limby Oak Cove…near the Powerline Right-Of-Way. I’ve witnessed some great rutting activity in the Limby Oak Cove in the past and was coming out of my skin when we rolled our ATV’s to a stop and were setting out to scout a place to hunt. I did grab a few photos during the early afternoon hours. The Limby Oak used to have a permanant stand in it, probably 17 years ago when I was a kid first starting to hunt this farm.

The Limby Oak

Dad in full gear

Might as well make yourself comfortable…we’re gonna be here a while

Alright, alright. But you know, I hold still in the treestand a lot better when I channel my nervous energy. Madden football keeps me still and is quiet. If I hear something move through the leaves, I tuck the game into my pocket.

Well, I wish I could elaborate further on the success of this hunt, but success is in the eye of the beholder. I saw 6 deer, all does, and heard some serious buck chasing going on across the holler just out of sight. The neighbors working the farm down below where I was hunting were noisy as heck all evening, thumping and banging around, starting up tractors and trucks, turning them off, starting them again. I could barely hear myself think. But we’ve all been there. The deer didn’t seem to mind too much, but were a little edgy. That could’ve just been the rut though. At any rate, getting out in the woods with my dad is something I spent my whole youth doing ad nauseum. Now, it is an incredibly luxury that can’t be priced. I don’t know how many more opportunities I’ll have to get out with my dad.

 

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About wvangler

Bamboo rodmaker. Prognosticator. Fly Angling Purist S.O.B. Dabble in snowboarding/mountain biking/backpacking. Right Wing Environmentalist. Food Junkie. Hillbilly. Intellectual Geek.

Posted on November 13, 2007, in huntin. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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