Each year prior to my legendary pilgrimage to the north for Blamathon comes this three week venture into the forbidding swamplands of my back yard otherwise known to the world as the north end of the everglades...
Last year's attempt was stunted by high water and several tropical storms but with Ernesto drivingby relatively dry my spot should be less than knee deep and teaming with life.
My favorite spot is a fairly wet spot along a dry line of brush with two islands in front flanked by sawgrass. Behind my seat is two very wet tracks and some tall cane.
Hunting here is an adventure. Unlike my northern ventures where you are just tracking sign, listening and watching, this spot requires more attention to other details. Here, I'm actually standing in water a little less than knee deep. Its hot, buggy and there are water critters to keep an eye out for. Gators have a bad habit of sneaking right up to my boots then you look down and see two eyeballs about eight inches across inches from your toes. We have big rattlers on the dryer ground along with their more dangerous little cousins the pygmies. The serpent that bugs me most though is the cottonmouth. Those bastards have attitude and some are outright agressive!
We have some exotics too.. A new population of burmese pythons growing to about 15 feet have sprung up. Scorpions, and hand sized spiders add spice to the scenery... Bobcat, lynx, jacaranda and panther are the furry counterparts to round things out.
In the swamp much of the hunting is done by ear. You need to filter out the bugs buzzing and the butterflies farting. Then you hear that sploosh sploosh sometimes slow or other quick paced as your target piggies and deer make their moves... I hide behind a bush and do the listening thing for hours. When it gets right, I come to full draw while still hidden. I used to shoot a PSE but her lack of let off didn't allow for much time. The Jennings I shoot now will let me hold for well over a minute before wearing me down.
When I step out for a shot, quick thinking is in play. Some of the piggies here will just get madder than hell if you poke em with a broadhead. Hell I bounced a 12ga slug off one at 40yards+- a couple years back. Though the piggies are damn near blind and they live in foul smelling swamp they can wind you in a blink. Hearing is sharp on em too.
Placing the shot is a different game with them too. The gristle plate on their shoulders will stop the finest muzzy and carbon combos we have on the market. As vile as it seems a gut shot behind the ribs and quartering away is the one you want to take. Man do they scream when you hit em too. Its a good idea to have a tree close by that you can scramble up if things don't go your way.
Anyway. My quiver is set with 8 delicious shafts and a selection of 100 and 125 grain broadies. I renewed my license and permits and tomorrow I venture deep into the dark mysterious world of the swamp... Wish me luck!
Mate Fin Hunter Sportfishing www.moreheadcitysportfishingcharters.com
Sounds like a fun adventurous time Deep. Be careful, and stick one of those fine eating swine. Look out for Mr. no shoulders, I hate them cottony muthers too.
Well morning one has come and gone. I slid into my spot predawn and gave up a quart or two of my best hemo globin to the skeeters. Irritating little frogs kept making noise but soon I settled into the wait. Just as it was getting shootable light I could hear the first "sploosh" of the season. Through a hole in the bushes to see a small doe making her way toward me.
"Meat!" My brain signaled my hands to come to draw. We are alowed two deer a year and yes they are small but they represent at least a few choice samwiches.
The cam rolled over and the hold was good so I slid around the corner... I scanned the scene and finally found her. Straight on and licking the air as if to "taste" me. Florida deer straight on are only a couple inches thick at best. Since she had me nailed I was gonna have to let fly from that angle and not wait for double lung broadside...
The release was smooth... Then I saw one of my plastic feathers come un glued . The shot was a perfect corkscrew . I prayed as the shaft made its flight. "Roll right you son of a ..." It rolled left and Bambi went away... My stomach grumbled ...
I can't be sure which is louder - my grumbling gut or the raging thunderstorm thats gonna keep me planted inside Castle Deep for the afternoon...
Inspected all my arrows and found another loose vane. Must be the heat. I have a set of heavier telephone pole class aluminum shafts that I switch to when I need to sling the 125's for piggies all those seem to be good. I'll re line and glue my carbon ones for good measure...
Just how hot is it out theree. I show about 107 degree heat index against 93 airt temp and 80% humidity almost daily...
Morning two has come and gone and again no meat...
Did see a piggie come across the saw grass and sneak into the right side "island" but way too far to sling a shaft. Damn swamp buggies aren't allowed during bow season but dumb asses just don't get it. Had one come about 100 yards from me. Then came the FWC officer on his. He wrote a ticket and escorted him out of the swamp back to the road. Thethick skulled redneck was back out in my area within an hour!
Unless they push an animal to you there is no value to having one anywhere near to a ground hunter like me...
Update:
Well I said screw the weather and took the ride to the swamp yesterday. The water was a couple inches deeper in my spot than it had been in the morning. I settled in to a light rain and really not bad conditions. Maybe fifteen into the sit I heard a faint "sploosh sploosh" then nothing. Then "SPLASH" ! I drew and stuck my head out for a look down my left shooting lane.... Nothing ... My mind ran through nearly twenty seasons of situations and came up with a memory of a deer that was crawling through that same spot a few seasons back. The grass was moving but I couln't see an animal. I took a couple steps forward. All ready to let fly then I saw it... An otter... Shit!
I know. I know... A lot of people would think cool or the girls would say cute... I say they're all bass eating scumbags and they need to be thinned out. A single one of the florida freshwater seals can kill a pond full of trophy bass in short order. Even a big piece of water isn't safe if they get in there and start munchin 2 or 3 largemouths a day... Dilemma time. Not in season but I really don't like them...
The thought of cuffs and court dates due to unseen binoculars had me just let em go.
A half our later I could hear splooshin again. The pace was quick and the steps sounded light. I drew back again and took a look. This time it was a spotted fawn. Hungry or not, I wasn't gonna go there... That was it for the day.
This morn I decided to try a different dryer spot. Not too far from a camp site and a comfortable walk along a road surrounded by some real thick jungle I have pulled a couple animals from there over the years... Maybe a half mile in I heard movement. I went into silent mode. I could hear but just couldn't get a look through the thick to identify. I sat and waited for it to make its way to a clearer spot.
Just then music started blaring from back at the camp site. I guess the critter was no fan of Boston's more than a feeling and I could hear it bolt deep into the jungle... That finished the morn.
The afternoon storms today were on the way severe side and I had to give it a pass...
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. I prayed as the shaft made its flight. "Roll right you son of a ..." It rolled left and Bambi went away... My stomach grumbled 
...
... My mind ran through nearly twenty seasons of situations and came up with a memory of a deer that was crawling through that same spot a few seasons back. The grass was moving but I couln't see an animal. I took a couple steps forward. All ready to let fly then I saw it... An otter... Shit!