John K. Flores: The chill of the Christmas deer hunt

Whenever winter solstice rolls around, where the days are short, Christmas is just around the corner. And, “if” Old Man Winter decides to show up, the holidays are usually our coldest couple of weeks of the year.
If you’re a St. Mary Parish Area 7 deer hunter you’ve probably been hunting since early October when the weather was anything but cold. It’s likely you’ve also had a bit of luck by now and have plenty of venison and sausage in your freezer to be enjoyed in the days to come. Yet, diehard deer hunters are an addicted lot who simply can’t get enough of sitting in a deer stand.
Such was the case with me a number of years ago. I, too, was addicted.
One year, during Christmas week, I got up well before daylight and was greeted with a heavy frost. Everything had frost on it, the yard, my truck’s windshield, the boat — even the paddle and push-pole laying on its deck.
I had hooked my boat up the night before, so all I had to do was warm up my truck and scrape the windows. Even that became an ordeal as I wasn’t wearing gloves. I was using a piece of wallet-size plastic for my scraper that I had found thinking one day I could use it for this very thing in a pinch.
My fingers stung with wet frost, so I balled them up in a fist and blew into them to stop the sting. It was then I thought to myself, “Why am I doing this?”
Once in the truck the heater took away the notion as to why. All was good for the 35-minute ride to the boat landing down La. 317 and the worst was over. Or so I thought.
My wife had gotten my Thermos out and had the coffee maker ready for me to simply push the on button when I got up. While driving and sipping hot coffee, my thoughts for that woman were simply, “God, I married the right girl.”
I’ve never been able to get enough of the outdoors, whether hunting or fishing, but apparently, I leak. I’m generally planning my next outing before the one I’m on is over.
Christmas has always been the time of year when things slow down a bit and usually comes with a couple days off to squeeze in a hunt or two.
I was the only person at the launch and after making sure my plug was in place, I backed the boat and trailer down into the water. Once I got my boat tied off, I loaded up my gun and gear and went and parked my truck.
It was cold. I had my sweater cap on and pulled my balaclava over my head as I climbed into the boat.
I squeezed the gas tank ball to pump a little fuel, pulled the choke, and tugged on the rope to crank the boat. Nothing. So, I pulled again. Still nothing.
The little 25 horsepower Johnson always started on no less than two pulls. I repeated the process and pulled a couple more times.
“Maybe I flooded it,” I thought. So, I let it sit for several minutes.
I looked up at the stars and realized daylight was fast approaching and I went back to pulling on the rope.
Choke on — choke off — choke on — choke off, I was getting frustrated. “What could be wrong,” I thought.
I decided to sit in the truck and wait for daylight so I could see what I was doing.
I tried cranking it a few more times and still nothing. Not even a pop from the engine. So, I went back to the truck and grabbed some tools.
It was after 8 a.m. when a good friend of my father-in-law, Boogie LaCoste, showed up at the landing with his boat.
“Hey Podna,” Boogie said in his deep baritone voice, “you got trouble?”
“Yeah, I can’t get my engine cranked off. You’re running a little late aren’t you Boog?” I replied.
“Nawh, it’s too cold for them deer to be moving around. They ain’t gonna move until that sun comes out and it warms up. So, I just stayed in bed next to mamma, where it’s warm,” he said laughing.
After telling Boogie I didn’t need any help he took off to hunt.
It took me another 30 minutes to pull and clean my engine’s spark plugs. My fingers were so numb from touching cold tools and plugs everything took twice as long, like I was milking the job.
Finally, I got the engine started and I decided to just run up the bayou and come back to hunt another day. That’s when I ran into Boogie, who had a big smile on his face.
Lying on the deck of his boat was a big spike buck.
I don’t think 45 minutes had passed since he left the landing. We both stopped our boats alongside each other.
I said, “Boogie that was quick!”
“I told you Podna. You don’t have to get up early on these cold days. Them deer don’t like to move around in the cold. I climbed in the stand and sat for five minutes, and he came walking out. I’m going home and get back into bed next to mamma and warm up. That deer ain’t gonna spoil. I’ll skin it later,” he said with a great big grin on his face.
And off he went.
This coming Christmas week we’re supposed to get some of the coldest weather we’ve had since summer.
It’s been quite a while since I’ve deer hunted in the kind of weather they’re forecasting.
I think next week when it arrives, I’ll just stay in bed next to mamma where it’s warm and let the other fellows deal with the cold.
Have a very Merry Christmas y’all and see you next year!
John Flores is the Morgan City Review’s outdoor writer. He can be contacted at gowiththeflow@cox.net.