Sweet November

 

Once again it’s sweet November. Best month of the year, according to seasoned deer hunters across the state. That time of year when Minnesota’s much-anticipated annual deer season rolls ’round; which, not uncoincidentally, coincides with “the rut” …that time of year when both deer and hunters go crazy. Bucks going crazy chasing does and hunters going crazy chasing trophy bucks …all hoping for a mount.

“Single Shot Smitty” was one such grizzled deer slayer. Considered an old codger, given today’s hi-tech rules of engagement (smartphones, satellite based navigation system (GPS), electronic rangefinders, trail cameras, and laser illuminated scopes), Smitty wasn’t much for the newfangled gadgets hunters use today. Rather, he believed it best to rely on the one gadget all of us have at our disposal: the gray matter between our ears.

A straightforward – “what you see is what you get” kind of fellow–Smitty had an abiding reputation for being an unshakeable marksman …thus the nickname. His accuracy was legendary and it’s said he could outshoot today’s average optics-assisted shooter, hands down.

He was an old-school woodsman who had accumulated knowledge through decades spent hunting. From the moment he stepped into the forest, he was on full alert. He saw not just the obvious signs, but also subtle changes in the surroundings.

A tuft of hair and a few disturbed leaves told him where “Old Mossy Horns” left the trail to bed down.

Smitty scoured the landscape and tested the wind with his nose, finding a hidden wallow ripe with fresh sign. He was just as apt to sit quietly as he was to stalk through the heavy timber, waiting for what little ripples of disturbance he had caused to settle and the woods to accept his presence.

When characterizing Smitty, all would agree he had a rather reserved disposition and ominous stare – augmented by his deep-set eyes and intimidating facial hair. His bristly mane was always unkempt and he projected an almost inaudible voice, as he tended to mumble through his muzzle; some suspect due to his being skittish about dislodging his false teeth.

At deer camp, he was always considered the “the old guy in charge.” Co-conspirators say he slept like the dead and snored with the roar of some kind of mythical beast, which was considered odd given his peculiar closed-mouthed predilection.

On mornings when he’d wake up with a sore throat – a consequence of his mythical manifestations or faulty camp wood stove – he’d wrap a piece of bacon fat around his throat and leave it there until the soreness was gone, even if it meant keeping it in place with a cotton “necker” as he headed into the woods for the day.

Anyone who came within arm’s length of Smitty couldn’t help pick up on the telltale musky aroma of doctored-up deer urine, better known as “buck scent.” Smitty concocted the pungent potion himself, removing the oily substance from a deer’s tarsal gland located on the animal’s hind leg. “That’s where the musky magic happens,” Smitty would allege with a cocked eye and wry grin.

And if it wasn’t buck scent, they whiffed, it would be the sweet banana-like aroma of Hoppe’s No. 9, a gun cleaning oil first produced in 1903. Smitty, it was observed, spent more time polishing the barrel of his Winchester Model 1894, with this stuff, than he did his dentures, which he’d soak overnight in a 4 oz. Mason jar of ”Old Overholt” whiskey.

One could only hope to catch him when the fragrance from his hand-whittled antler pipe masked such odors.

Smitty certainly looked the part of a seasoned huntsman, not by any intention to make some sort of fashion statement; rather, practical application of hunting garb that had weathered the test of time.

Under his oversized buffalo plaid wool shirt and deerskin britches –made from a buck he killed himself and held up by a pair of Y-Back brown canvas suspenders – he wore his silver-gray heavy cotton Union suit (long underwear that featured a “drop seat” hatch, which certainly came in handy in the backwoods); then he donned a double-layer Mackinaw wool cap, the best wool socks money could buy and a pair of rugged high top Danner boots. Aside from his togs, he carried a canvas rucksack, Marble’s Ideal hunting knife, pocket compass, flint and steel (for starting fires) and the aforementioned Winchester Model 1894.

Commonly referred to as the Model 94, it lays claim to one of the most popular deer hunting rifles of all time. Dubbed “The Ultimate Lever Action Gun,” it was light, comfortable, fast shooting and highly effective at short distances and is still to this day considered a persuasive weapon for “Old Timers” like Smitty who pursue game in overgrown thickets.

Yes, when it comes to sweet November, there is many a hunter who has felt as though they were chasing ghosts in the forest …not Single Shot Smitty. For Smitty those ghost bucks that move almost entirely at night, making them ghost-like denizens, would materialize. And when they did, you can be sure this old-school grizzled deer slayer would drop ’em with a single shot.

Former Cook County Commissioner Garry Gamble is writing this ongoing column about the various ways government works, as well as other topics. At times the column is editorial in nature.