# My Name is Tuffdaddy, and I'm a giant wuss!



## Tuffdaddy (Oct 26, 2012)

Warning, long post, but it's worth it.

So based on my recent coyote adventure, it came up about what a giant wuss I am solo in the woods at night. Figured this was as good of a place to put a story from the first time I went bow hunting for whitetails 3 years ago. I'm not sure I should open myself to public ridicule, but I digress

I hadn't started my hunting career out like many in that my dad never took me hunting. Fishing yes, but he never hunted after he returned from Vietnam for obvious reasons. Fast forward 35 years. For some reason, the hunting bug hit me and I started out trying to hunt coyotes. Then a few years later, my girls showed interest in shooting bows and possibly bow hunting for deer. Being the super dad I am (sarcasm), I decided that I had to figure this bow hunting thing out. So I talked to my brother in law, who is an avid "traditional" bow hunter and has been hunting his whole life. He helped me pick a bow and the necessities, and was there as a resource as I try to figure this animal out.

I decided that I'm going to hunt public land. Nothing else, but public as I like a good challenge. I'm not looking for giant P&Y deer (although, that would be nice once I figure out how to pattern them), I just want to put the pieces together to be successful. But enough of the background. On to my first hunt.

After a few weeks of scouting various hunting grounds and putting together a game plan to harvest my first deer, on my first outing (because that's how it always happens right?) I prepared for my hunt the night before. Climber stand was packed, bow, water, granola bars, extra cloths, sidearm. Heck, I was ready for Afghanistan! (I tend to over do things initially. Dang marketers). I hit the sack around midnight and was up at 3. Like a kid at Christmas, I couldn't sleep.

I finally caved, got up, made coffee, jumped in the truck and headed to the woods. I pulled up to the parking lot at 4am. I had 2 hours until sunrise, so sat in the truck listening to Fred Bear on the radio sipping coffee. I called a buddy who I knew was headed to his property with his son for a good pep talk. We wished each other good luck, and now it was go time!

I grabbed my stand, my bow, and slipped on my Alpha Burlys to make my trek through the marsh to my first stand. It was still dark out and as I prepared, I heard a pack of coyotes light up about a half mile to my south. Now knowing that I'm the big bad coyote hunter in the winter, you'd think that wouldn't bother me. Mental note made for the winter right? No. Those puppies put me on depth com 1! Great, now I'm going to be walking through head high cattails, in water, with these man eaters going out or coming back from their night time feeding binge. Bloodied fangs and all. Not to mention, I only have a bow (and my M&P .40, but what good would that do? I mean, they are man eaters right!!??).

Well, after about 5 minutes of listening to this, I finally man up and start to head out of the parking lot, to the trail that leads to the marsh, where no man would dare go. I'd have these deer all to myself in my well scouted hot spot. I make it to the edge of the marsh and begin to follow the narrow deer trail into the thick, head high, cattails. I can still hear the coyotes in the distance, and it's pitch black as I walk into this shoulder width maze. 10 yards in, 20 yards, 30.....BOOM! Then it happens.

As I get to the middle of the marsh, I jump a deer who bolts out 10 yards in front of me!!!! What the heck! Swamp monster!!! Being the bad @$$ I am, I retreated back to the truck. Yes, you heard that right. To make the situation even better, when I got back to the truck, I called my buddy and his son to tell them what happened. As you can guess, they laughed their butts off at me. I think I needed that though as it allowed my heart to slide back into it's normal rhythm.

After a good 10 minute cool down period, I finally pulled my big boy pants up, and headed in for attempt #2. This time, I was successful. I made it through the eerie marsh to the other side where the oak rise started. As I started my way along the tree line to edge of the corn field I was going to set up inside of, I decided to sneak in through the woods along a trail I thought I knew, in order not to spook any deer that may still be feeding in the field. Boy was that a great decision!

As I walked down the trail that I had just scouted the afternoon before, I somehow took a wrong turn, then another, and yet another. Before I knew it, I was in the middle of the thickest thicket you can imagine. Yeah I know, woodsman of the year. Lewis and Clarke would have been shaking their heads. But alas! Google Earth to the rescue.

Well what should have been a short 10 minute walk to my stand from where I entered the woods, ended up taking 45 minutes. The sun was now starting to rise, and I had stirred up the entire ecosystem, but I finally got to the tree that I was going to climb.

I put my strap on the tree, attached the climber, readied my bow line, and began my assent. Now mind you, I have only practiced with this climber in my back yard, going up a few feet to get used to climbing. Because all the "professionals" say you have to climb 15-20 feet into the tree, I figured, piece of cake. Nope. Not this brave soul. I made it up 10'. That was the top of my comfort level. But, it was also perfect for a shooting lane along the trail and edge of the field. Yeah, that works.

I pull my bow up, get settled in for the morning in my new found deer paradise. It has now been 2.5 hours since I left the truck. The sun was rising, the pheasants cackling, I should see a deer any minute.... 30 minutes, 45 minutes.... BOOM!!!! What the? BOOM!!! Shoot (literally)! Apparently I'm not alone in the woods and fields this morning. The distant clink of a pointer with his bell, working his way through the CRP to the corn field where the pheasants were previously cackling.

With the thought of being just above the corn, right in the sight line of a pheasant that could fly to his freedom (or demise), I decided that I have had enough of this emotional roller coaster. With my tail between my legs, I descended from the tree to pack up and head home. As though the gods of the woods figured I needed one more parting shot, I was thanked by way of jumping a pheasant as I made my way back through the marsh on my trek back to my truck.

This bow hunting gig was going to be more difficult than I thought..... Fast forward 3 years, and I've learned a LOT more about the areas I hunt, and while I haven't harvested a deer yet, I did get my first shot at one this fall. Unfortunately, the tree in front of him took the brunt of my broadhead's wrath. The quest continues.

Now you all have plenty of ammo on this emotional wreck when it comes to hunting or traveling the woods in the dark. (you would have loved to see how fast I climbed the tree this past fall when I had a coyote barking at me within 30 yards at 4 in the morning!)


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## youngdon (Mar 10, 2010)

I'm not sure how to reply to this, I mean I really want to laugh my butt off, but don't want you to mistake my humorous laughter for an evil laugh of derision Bwa haha and take a hiatus from the forum. I mean, I thought all you Wisconsinites....Wisconsians...whatever you call yourselves were a bunch of beer drinking, brawlers. I'm just shocked, after finding this out coupled with the news that Brett Favre was sending pics of his willy to guys and all..... I just don't know


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## Tuffdaddy (Oct 26, 2012)

hahahahahaaha. That's awesome YD! I can handle the ridicule. In fact, I deserve it. Beer drinker, you bet! Brawler, well let's just say, if I were in a fight (I'm getting too old for that stuff), I'd be the one fighting dirty. 

I do not condone our NFL stars taking pulling an "Anthony Wiener" though. Must be something in the Green Bay water, or maybe too many PCBs in the Fox River walleye they're eating.


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## JTKillough (May 4, 2010)

I'm sorry! That took guts! We need men of guts around here! A couple thoughts popped right up as I read this confession. First; there are certain people in this world whom say that it's okay for a grown man to cry. They are women and tend to cry quite a bit. In my own opinion, a grown man can only cry on two occasions. One, at the loss of his best friend, and two, at the sight of an empty cooler. Second thought; I'm also getting along in age, and figure my fighting days are over. The way I see it, I got about fifteen seconds on good fight, and about forty five seconds of running left (down from last years 20 second fight /and 1 minute sprint), after that, I'm just going to shoot you in the knee cap. But, just for future reference, it's better to play dead, as coyotes generally attack the weak and/or disoriented. At some point, the wife will come find you and help you to the truck.


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## Tuffdaddy (Oct 26, 2012)

I had a feeling this was going to illicit some great responses. For the record, I didn't cry (that anyone saw.). I was puckered tighter than the new guy walking through the prison doors though. Actually, I might have cried from laughing so hard when I called my buddy after I got back to the truck initially. I'm pretty sure he and his son were crying as well from laughing so hard.

I did cry however when I put my first lab down 2 years ago (always fun digging a hole to bury them in, with the dog in a wagon wrapped in a blanket, in the middle of the woods, in the heat of the summer, with skeeters all over you). I don't however, cry when the beer is gone because I live in Wisconsin, and frankly, we never run out of beer here. Be prepared.


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## pokeyjeeper (Sep 5, 2013)

That took guts hats off to you


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## hassell (Feb 9, 2010)

Some great stuff going on in this thread, I don't know yet which adventure to start with but I'll think of one I'm sure, we don't run out of beer around here either as I work at a brewery.


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## youngdon (Mar 10, 2010)

I'll absolutely agree it took guts. For the record I'm not fighting either, maybe with words but my brawling days are in the past(thank God). I have to ask JT though, which do you think Skip was weak or disoriented ? I'll answer that myself though, I think disoriented the whack to the head he received the night before for making a wise-crack to Sharon probably took it's toll( something tells me he gets them rather often and deserves them more often).As for crying... I might wish I had more beer, but it's not a biggie as I always have several bottles of something else (makers mark, crown etc.) I have shed tears a few times in the last year, when Dad passed and when my Mocha dog finally gave up.


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## glenway (Mar 27, 2011)

There's a lot going on there TD, that's for sure.

There's only one first time and yours will be forever etched into that "video recorder" between your ears. Over time, it seems to me that kills always take a back seat to everything else that happens along the way - just as you have described so vividly.

It's all part of the reward system we share for paying those dues afield.


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## JTKillough (May 4, 2010)

Disoriented! That right there, is the bane of all mankind. Well, this isn't the first time a hunter of predator has been disoriented while going about business. My name is Jim, and I must say, I got pretty scared and disoriented while night hunting, twice. I learned the first time out that you need a keen knowledge of the country you were calling if you planned to go night hunting. I figured that out after the first truly dark set up. I somehow got off course, just a tad, and missed the truck on my way back. Found myself walking farther than I felt I needed to. Soon, I realized that I was off course and panic started to seep in. I tried to reason my next move. I really was in no danger of getting totally lost, as I was surrounded by roads, although some would be miles of walking. I finally stumbled out onto a road, then had to ponder which direction the truck???? After another 300 yards I spotted the reflection from the license plate. Whew, that was a close one. The next year, same spot, I was better equipped but no matter. I was calling and had an owl dive bomb me, then lite in a nearby tree. He was carrying on such a racket. I figured he had eyes on my scalp. I must have gotten rattled by the initial attack, cause I missed the damned truck, again. Found myself wandering the road, scanning for my license plate, scared and alone, again. There is evil in the dark, I had no doubt! Angry eyes, glowing with blood lust! My skin crawling and mind racing, with every scurry sound and twig snap. And last but not least, shadows moving with every sweep of my scanlight. My writing this confession is proof that I made it out alive and somewhat unscathed. That dark hunting is for the birds. That, or I just suck at it. But subconsciously, I know, I was disoriented. I'm convinced that darkness has a profound effect on the male psyche, causing disorientation which can lead to the eye welling up. Although I never went full blown disorientation on this outing and subsequently avoided the eye troubles, I have experienced a welling of the eyes in times of duress. That would be the lost of my best friend, my dog Chyna and my best friend dad. But this anomaly struck me in the most unusual way recently when I want at the movie theatre. I was watching, The Shack, and had a liquid drip from the eye, during a very sad portion of the show. Of course, I was dazed and disoriented from a ton of popcorn and soda. But now that I think of it, it was dark! I must have gotten disoriented in the dark and as a defence mechanism, the eyes shot forth a liquid, much like the horned lizard! Wow, thanks guys! Man this therapy really works!


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## Tuffdaddy (Oct 26, 2012)

Oh man, I think we're all going to need therapy after this thread. What did I start! lol.

JT, you are definitely right in that you need to have a keen awareness of your environment in the dark. Fast forward the 3 years since this story, and through my treks through the woods deer hunting, I've become pretty intimate with the turns, cuts, hills, swamps, and marshes in the area. That has made a difference in being comfortable walking into and out of the woods. However, having a coyote light you up in the thick stuff in the dark of 3 am still turns the pucker factor up.


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## ReidRH (Feb 1, 2010)

I had raccoon Dogs as a younger man, I spent a many a night Walking the woods and was always pretty good about getting where i was going.

The Only Time I remember Being Scared, I was about 2 miles from the Truck My Light was DEAD I was heading back to the truck to get ahead of the dogs that refused to Return to me. All of a Sudden Something REAL Close Was Growling I have to admit I Got Pretty nervous for a bit I finally got the light switched on it came on just a glimmer, I never did see what it was. Needless to say I Headed to the truck at a little faster pace!


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## kiyote (Jun 15, 2014)

sasquach??


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## youngdon (Mar 10, 2010)

Cousin Paula ?


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## pokeyjeeper (Sep 5, 2013)

Ok my turn I had been calling coyotes for two years in the winter on and off just for something to do never called one in and always called early morning at daybreak getting frustrated I sat down and got on the internet and found a lot of guys call at night and I found plans for a homemade e-caller put the caller together down loaded some sounds grabbed the Ruger 10-22 only rim fire I had and back then we had to use rim fire at night go out get set up and start calling and scanning hit some vocals on the caller and I pack lit up about 100 yards away in thick brush at the time being green to coyote calling it sounded like 20 coyotes and I only got 10 bullets I'm thinking oh crap they finally shut up and I'm not wanting to walk out and get attacked so I start calling again thinking if I take a few out the rest will leave well they never did come in or howl again but I sat there for over 3 hours calling now when they Cut loose at nite when I'm calling I'm all excited and I've learned to pick out each coyote when they cut loose


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## ReidRH (Feb 1, 2010)

kiyote said:


> sasquach??


Ha I dont think so! Although it would be cool to See one! I figure it was a Coyote or a Stray dog but still kinda unnerved me a bit!


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## ReidRH (Feb 1, 2010)

youngdon said:


> Cousin Paula ?


Mighta Been Someone's Cousin LOL She was probly from arizona, Our Women around here dont Growl like that LMAO


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## prairiewolf (Feb 19, 2012)

ARIZONA !!!!

Our women dont growl, they purrrrrrr, lol and they might spur ya !


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## youngdon (Mar 10, 2010)

pokeyjeeper said:


> Ok my turn I had been calling coyotes for two years in the winter on and off just for something to do never called one in and always called early morning at daybreak getting frustrated I sat down and got on the internet and found a lot of guys call at night and I found plans for a homemade e-caller put the caller together down loaded some sounds grabbed the Ruger 10-22 only rim fire I had and back then we had to use rim fire at night go out get set up and start calling and scanning hit some vocals on the caller and I pack lit up about 100 yards away in thick brush at the time being green to coyote calling it sounded like 20 coyotes and I only got 10 bullets I'm thinking oh crap they finally shut up and I'm not wanting to walk out and get attacked so I start calling again thinking if I take a few out the rest will leave well they never did come in or howl again but I sat there for over 3 hours calling now when they Cut loose at nite when I'm calling I'm all excited and I've learned to pick out each coyote when they cut loose


So now that you're more experienced, how many coyotes do you think there were that night ?


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## pokeyjeeper (Sep 5, 2013)

Oh 3 at the most don


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## ReidRH (Feb 1, 2010)

prairiewolf said:


> ARIZONA !!!!
> 
> Our women dont growl, they purrrrrrr, lol and they might spur ya !


Im Not even gonna Go in to the Images that Popped in My Head when I read this!!! LMAO!


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