Blind Blunders
Hunting blinds and I have a troubled and ongoing history together. I just wish I knew what their love language was. They clearly work and work well for other people, and they seem to be my only option for archery hunting, based on my size 14 feet.
My first attempt at using a blind was when my brother and I borrowed a pop-up blind from our dad for a hunting trip. We met our friend camped out on some public land and set up the blind early in the morning, in what seemed like a good spot. We then scouted around a bit to stretch our legs. The next morning, we came back to find someone had relieved us of our blind. We saw neither the bandits nor deer that trip. That was nearly ten years ago. This last season I filled my whitetail tag via still hunting because my blind, days after being set up, was relocated by the wind down a hill, across a fence, and into a swamp. My brother found it while I was at work and packed it away for me. It appears this spring I will be doing some repairs on it in hopes of using it again, but in a more wind sheltered area this time.
My most comical blunders actually took place in the same blind during the same fall season. During the October bow season, just north of Athabasca, I had a blind set beside some bales in a field that the deer were grazing in each evening. A well-fed doe wandered up to the stake I had driven into the ground 20 yards from my blind and offered me a broadside shot. I silently came to full draw, took a breath, steadied my aim, and set the pin on her vitals. Then, as I released, I heard a peculiar “thunk” and watched my illuminated knock slide just under her, I could swear I heard the fletching brush her hide. After a moment of stunned confusion, I noticed I had sent my arrow through the window covers that were bunched up as a result of having the window open. In rifles, this mistake is called “failing to account for height over bore” perhaps in archery, it’s called “height over shaft”?
Later during November rifle season, in that same blind, from that same spot, I went back with a rifle. A little button buck I mistook for a small doe walked out and offered me a shot as the light was fading. Me, not realizing one of the advantages of a blind is that you can use a rest, sent an offhand shot. I learned quickly that shoot-through mesh only applies to arrows, this was evident by the shredded, smoldering, mesh in front of me. I could have tossed a cat through the hole I had made. I also realized that a 270 Winchester sure is loud in a blind. As my ears rang, I noticed the deer getting back up, clearly injured, and needing a second shot. With no time to put in earplugs, I sent a second round further damaging the mesh and increasing the ringing in my ears. Days 3 and 4 of my recovery were so quiet, it was a nice reprieve from days 1 and 2 where all I could hear was that darn ringing. My dad once told me he witnessed someone, in a living room, shoot a monkey with a 12 gauge and his ears rang for a week. There’s a lot to think about in that sentence, the 70’s must have been a wild time. My take-away is that I can sympathise with the headache induced by discharging a firearm in a confined space. In my case, it happened twice and was my own fault. In the end I had put my ears through all that for barely enough meat to fill the little freezer attached to the undersized fridge in my little apartment.
Now, I don’t begrudge those who manufacture, sell, use, or even encourage the use of blinds. I just fear they aren’t for me. When I hunt, I prefer to walk, take in nature, look for treasure. I found a nice mule deer shed 2 years ago while still hunting, can’t say I’ve ever found anything interesting inside a blind… well except that one time I got so bored in a blind I befriended a field mouse, he wasn’t much for conversation, but he sure loved cookies. I wonder what Ol’ Hank is up to these days…
I also think that few, if any, pop-up blinds available are able to withstand the experience that is the prairie climate, something so unpredictable and volatile that musicians such Ian Tyson and Corb Lund have written songs about it. I’ve had blinds blow away in gale-force winds, others have been so frozen to the ground my options were to take home the top half or leave it whole until spring thaw. The risk of leaving it until spring is that heavy snowfall can collapse it, or a lack of snow on top will result in enough UV damage that you can poke a skylight in the ceiling with a finger… maybe I could use it for geese then? It appears my options are to walk or get a tree stand. Based on my luck with blinds, I fear what may become of any dalliance I make into tree stand usage.
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