On a recent afternoon, I begged off from heading back into the deer woods after lunch. A buck was hanging from the gambrel in my garage. I wanted to get to it with a knife. Afternoon daylight and temps above freezing would make the task at hand much easier.
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Somehow, I just knew it had to be my fault. Are you wondering what happened to the missing Minnesota moose? Wonder no more. Just blame me. After all, I’m a northeastern Minnesota deer hunter.
In a story titled, “Solved: Deer have a direct role in the death of Minnesota
Somewhere in northern Minnesota, there is a pile of apples with a deer stand over yonder. Somewhere else, there is a pile of corn hidden beneath the bows of a balsam tree so the game wardens can’t see it from the air. Stealthier still, beneath a third deer stand, someone scattered black oiler sunflower
When the autumn leaves drop and the forest is bare of foliage, deer appear in the backyard. They clean up fallen apples and whatever is left in the gardens as hors d’oeuvres, but what keeps them around are the lush green grass and clover in the yard. They show up just before dusk; does followed
Longtime grouse hunters have a list of places where they used to go hunting. Trees grow old. They fall down or are cut down. Over a span of a decade or more, a familiar forest can change so much that it becomes hard to recognize. Old logging roads and trails disappear and new ones are made.
If Michigan’s Upper Peninsula was a misshapen mitten, the Keweenaw Peninsula would be the thumb. This rocky appendage juts defiantly into Lake Superior, its hardwood, pine and hemlock clad ridges rising hundreds of feet above the crystalline blue. We had already been atop Brockway Mountain,