Yo, yo. What’s happening fellas. Taking some time out of my busy-not-so-busy fall schedule to recap my first actual sit of the NJ 2025 bow season. I’m going to refer to this as my first “actual” because my true first time out this year was in a Tidewe blind in the small field behind my Gram’s house. Which is where I then contemplated for 20 minutes about slamming an absolute cow of a groundhog, just because he was tempting me for too long at about 35 yards Northeast of me. I have minimal self control in these scenarios and boredom often gets the best of me.
And hey, if it’s brown it’s down, am I right?
I lost the arrow. Whatever, you live to see another winter, Punxsutawney.
Popped in to say hello to Gram, then hashed it out with my Dad over a medium-rare Flo’s Filet at Longhorn later on.
Life is good. He loves that place.
Back to the real first sit of the year. Also, I'm going to call it a sit instead of a hunt because that’s what I’m doing. I’m sitting my ass down. In a ladder stand. On a pine tree. Waiting, hoping, praying I see life. I would never, ever, want to offend the real hunters.
Anyway, like few of you know, I’m in between jobs right now, so my weeks are more empty than not. Should I be doing more work towards my education and career? Sure. But it’s fall baby, and my Spypoint is blowing up my phone. The most scrubby bucks you’ll ever see - they’re at my spots, so what? Can’t eat the antlers. It's early fall and my freezer is low, and I ain’t talkin’ temps.
As I head back down south home to plop my ass in the stand, unwind, and start off the season, I make some calls to a few local “experts” in my circle - my brothers, my dad, and Big D to see what’s going on in the great outdoors and if anyone wants to tag team. That’s what it’s about, yanno? Camaraderie and such. I strike out with my brothers since they have work. Unbelievable, right? Dad doesn't do much hunting these days, he’d rather “save” the deer for his sons. And while that sounds honorable, don't buy it. Finally, I got a bite from Big D. Him and his much older hunting partner, Lil D, are heading up to Zone 23 in the Pineys to sit a spot with some recent action. There’s an extra stand and I’m invited.
Let’s go, a new hunt, I'm fired up. I buy my zone permit and head out to the meeting spot: top secret.
Side note: so dumb we voluntarily allow ourselves to be robbed year in and year out to hunt in NJ, but that’s a segment for another time.
It’s a beautiful November Wednesday in Jersey. Low 50’s, dropping to low 40’s by nightfall, slight West wind. Few clouds in the sky. Today’s going to be a good one. The three of us load up Big D’s 1990’s wrangler and head out. To help paint the picture and provide context, Big D is roughly 65 years of age, round, and had his best year hunting in 2024. Little D is 90+, maybe 5 foot 2, and feisty. He’s got hunting stories for days and sometimes he tells them twice in the same conversation. Nevertheless, an incredible feat that he continues to actively hunt. We’re a real ragtag crew, ready to rumble.
Best case scenario, we each slam a deer in daylight and spend the rest of the evening rejoicing and telling stories over a beer or two. Worst case scenario, we get skunked, head to the Pic for dinner and tell stories over a beer or two. Not too bad either way, plus both include unwinding in the wilderness on a perfect afternoon. Win-win to me. I’ve never been the one to get caught up in the “success” of the hunt. Just the opportunity is good enough for me.
After driving 206 through rural Jersey and pulling off onto a state woods dirt road, we finally reach our first drop point and Little D gets out. “Good luck, we’ll drive back to pick you up after sundown”. He grabs his borrowed Ravin crossbow and ventures down the path to his stand and we drive off. I’m the next drop off, maybe a thousand or so yards north up the trail. I get out, uncase my PSE compound bow from that I’ve had since high school. Although very limited in my hunting time, Whitetail have eluded me during fall bow, I’ve only harvested a doe with it years back.
Big D whispers, “Walk this path until you see the ladder stand on your right. Can’t miss it”. I slowly and quietly walk the path, taking in the weather and sights of some open woods. Roughly 100 yards in, I see the ladder stand. It’s one of those newer, comfortable Big Game seated stands. Niiiiiiice. I’m not picky when it comes to stands, especially one’s I’m a guest at, but I'll take any comfort upgrades when available.
I get to the base of the tree, look around at my surroundings, and begin my ascent. The noise of loose metal sounds every other step or so.. It’s a little janky, a few not fully tightened bolts, but it’s ok. Safety third, we’re in the tree. I prep my arrow and look around for any potential deer runs or entrance points to focus on. I was told they come from behind, so be ready. I check the time. It's almost 2:30. Awesome. Time to take it all in.
As I sit and begin to daydream, I let my mind wander about how great of a day it’s been. As the old fishing adage goes, “a bad day fishing, beats a good day of work”. That can be adapted and used for just about any hobby, I believe. Truly blessed to be able to be in the tree at this moment.
Crunches and a snap from behind. F@#$king squirrels, I thought immediately. They’re always making ruckus just being themselves.
I slowly turn to look over my left shoulder and I see a body mass moving steadily towards the opening in front of me. No. Way. A deer. It's only been 10 or 15 minutes since I not-so-quietly climbed into the tree. The day is already made. Let’s see this swamp donkey.
I try to get a better look, but the sun is slightly in my eyes. As it passes a bush I see the sun brighten up above its head. No. Fartin. Way. Antlers. This early on? I’ve never seen a buck this early into a hunt, this is awesome. So glad I'm out here.
I focus in a bit more and realize it’s a spike, but not just a spike, a real nice spike! Each spike was about 8-9 inches in length and seemed symmetrical. I’m eager and excited as ever. If he gets to an opening, it’s about a 20-25 yard shot. I'm already getting my story ready. Shit, I might end up with 2 deer the way things are going.
Hahaha yeah ok buddy.
I haven’t even moved yet. The spike continues to casually stroll in, I shift my weight to stand up, and the loudest cling-clang-stand-shift-bolt-adjustment you could ever imagine, happens before I can even move. The spike looks up at the noise and dips out northwest.
Son of a b@#$h! You’d’ve thought I missed the biggest deer of my life.. And the way I was looking to see where he went and if he'd come back.. They come back sometimes, not often but it happens.
I’m begging in my head, come on, come back. All for a spike! But like I said, I don’t hunt for the antlers. But I also paid and I plan on getting my money's worth too! Damn you, Jersey. He’ll come back, I told myself and even just to be ready for anything else, I stood up and rested on the drop bar and faced the tree for the rest of the hunt.
Uncomfortable? Yes. Stupid? Maybe. I wasn’t risking a noisy stand blunder again, next time I'll be ready.
Nothing came the rest of the afternoon. I saw a few does frolicking 100+ yards in the distance, and a few birds, nothing else. At sundown, I see the jeep lights in the distance and I pack it up and begin my trek back to the drop off point. I put my unused bow back in the case and tell Big D the story.
“At least you saw something.” He was right, it's ok to get humbled every now and then, it builds character. It just stinks the way it went down. We continue our drive down to pick up Little D. Little D gets in and we drive off. “See anything?”
“Yeah, a 6 in the distance and a nice spike around 4, but I let him walk.”
What did he look like? About ye high and even?”
“Yup.”
“Fongoooool! The spike I was praying to come back, you passed on.”
We ended back at the local saloon and rehashed some stories over some wings and yuengs. And that’s more or less how it goes folks. Not an overly eventful first hunt back, but just blessed to have the opportunity. If there’s anything one can take away from this journal, it’s this: Don’t pass on much, because somewhere out there, some poor bastard is praying for the same opportunity.
Today it was me. Back at it tomorrow behind the farm.
0 comments