The Hunt for Cross Toed
Joe
By Fletcher
"Butchwax" Ferguson
Climbed up, Monday
night, into the ladder stand that overlooks the Christmas tree plantation at
Sugar Bay for an evening hunt. Had had seen tracks of a buck that had eluded me
for three years. His tracks are distinct as his fore feet have crossed toes. My
buddy Scott wanted to move the stand but I resisted because I knew Cross Toed
Joe was using that area. Old crossed toe had done over twelve thousand dollars
in damage to the Christmas tree farm. Time for him to go. He has a nice copper
colored helmet. Only an eight point. This was no trophy hunt. I was going to
get no matter what it took; didn’t tell Scott any of that. Told him I wasn't
moving any more stands. He could move it if he wanted to, knowing he
wouldn't want to do that much work. Besides, I didn't want to tip my hand as to
what I was on to. I study these deer, their movements their patterns, identify
them by their chest patterns and face markings. I study their sign all year
long. Scott thinks I am full of it, accuses me of not shooting deer because I
got them all named. I am just a little picky.
At five o'clock he comes
straight at me from the west, stopping behind one of the Douglas firs he has
nearly rubbed to death and raising his nose. The wind was 15 mph out of the
south. He must not have liked what he smelled and took off to the southwest at
a quick trot. I shot him with the bow at 40 plus yards. I thought I had gut
shot him on his left side just back of the ribs, not leading him enough. I
looked and looked but could not find the arrow, I knew I had hit him. Went back
to the bunk house for an hour and a half, got out of my gillie and loaded up on
flashlights and batteries. It was going to be a tracking night.
The deer had bolted back
to the west towards the bass pond after I let the arrow fly. I went in the
timber on the west side of the tree lot where I had last seen him. No blood.
Worked systematically for an hour and a half finding just a single drop of
blood. To my surprise the deer was just the other side of a little
quarter acre opening comprised of tall native grass where on the south edge is
a small silt pond.an ATV trail to the north. He jumped out of a dense thicket,
bounding back west towards the base of the bass pond. I waited another hour,
standing still in the dark, taking good measure of where he had jumped out
from.
Started the search again
and found where he had been standing in a thorny thicket. Good blood pool
there. Searched and found a blood trail. It wasn't much of a trail but I
was on it. The blood trail was hard to follow because old Cross Toed Joe was
really moving but by 8:30 I had tracked him to the west side of the middle pond
where the water backs up to the base of the bass pond dam. Lost the blood
trail. I kept looking for sign, tracks, and disturbances in the leaf
litter anything that might point me in his direction. Then I found my arrow,
all covered in blood at the base of the tall fence that runs north and south
between the two ponds. It was missing two of the razors from the broad head, I
pondered how the arrow got worked out. Did he jump this fence? Lost the
blood trail again. I went back to where I had last seen blood. Studied
the blood drops closely. I could tell that direction of the splatter meant he'd
back tracked. On the trail again until 9:30, hunger took over. I stuck the
yellow and red arrow in the ground to mark the spot and went to eat.
After a venison burger I started up tracking him again. The deer took me
through more thorny thickets, under low hanging cedar limbs and heavy buck
brush. Stayed on him until 12:30 AM and quit. Just too tired to continue,
started back to the bunk house. Suddenly, I saw him, still standing, at the
edge of the middle pond. He had been leading me around in circles. I had
slipped up on him while he was taking a drink. He bolted again, this time
with a series of warning snorts. I don't know if he was warning me or something
else. In the dark I never saw him, nor heard him moving around as I tracked
him. I figured I would find him in the morning. I was dead tired and dripping
with sweat.
I suffered from severe
leg cramps overnight. It scared me. Miserable pain due to all the
walking, squatting and contorting. Thought about calling 911, as the
cramping had spread to my gluts and abs. Cramps stopped about 4 AM. Slept till
7 the next morning. Normally I am up at 5. Not this day. Ate a bite then
set out to find him. Looked all over for him thru the morning. At 12:30 PM I
was about to give up when I saw him, he was still alive standing in an area
east of the middle pond dam. He had been ducking me all morning as I had
searched that area twice. Alive but barely strong enough to stand much less
run. He just stood there frozen with anxious, labored breathing. I had
out lasted him. I was twenty yards from him. He finally just died, died
on his feet, and then fell over. Dandiest thing. He gave up at
1:00. Truth of the matter was I shot him low in the neck. The arrow had
not passed through but had eventually worked out of his neck. I guess
because of the distance and because he was moving away from me the arrow did
not pass through like it should have. Must have barely clipped his neck artery.
I could see only a trickle of blood coming from the wound but he had been
bleeding for nineteen hours. Most of the blood I had seen before I found my
arrow, had drained down the arrow.
Hung him in the barn.
His name was Cross Toed Joe, A.K.A." The Christmas Tree Villain."
Wanted for destroying Christmas trees and doe harassment. Been after him
for three seasons. What a great hunt and a thrilling tracking adventure.
Bounty paid in back straps and summer sausage.
