Fidge and Nimrod School a Horse

We’re back at to tell the final story of the Nimrod UP Thanksgiving/ Deer Hunting trip. We left off awhile back reliving the exciting moments of Yoop and Logger putting some classic Yooper smack down on some deer.

The next day Fidge arrived in the great not so white north and it was decided the young man and I would head out to Loggers deer condo. We loaded up and headed toward the woods. We stopped at a small store on the way to load up on Vernors and Snickers. When we turned off the main highway it was game on. Like Clark Kent stepping into the phone booth, Fidge and I instantly had our game faces on. There was no doubt in our minds that we were coming back to Loggers empty handed.

Once we got near the condo, I parked the truck. Fidge gave me a funny look and asked “Aren’t you going to drive up to the condo?”

Perplexed by the question it took me a second to realize he wasn’t joking. I replied “Are you legs broke?”


“Then no I ain’t driving to the condo. Grab your stuff and let’s get walking.”

After a debate about whether the heater was needed on a fall like winter evening we settled in for what we knew was going to be a great night for some Nimrod venison collection.

After what seemed like 30 minutes, I checked my clock and confirmed it had been 30 minutes. Nothing yet.

About 5 minutes later I was woken from my slumber by what I first thought was a raccoon scrounging through a garbage can. I slowly opened my eyes and looked toward the sound. I was somewhat relieved, as well as annoyed, to find the noise was Fidge tearing into his Snickers and Vernors. I thought about asking if he could be any noisier but was scared to find out the answer.

“See anything yet?” I whispered.

“Just some birds.”

“Me either.”

This routine continued on for most of the evening. At one point Fidge woke me asking “Is that a deer on yourside?”

My pulse quickened and I lifted my binos to peek.

“Nope. That’s a horse.” I replied without thinking.

“I thought they got rid of their horses?” He questioned.

The fog cleared from my head and I remember he was right. I looked again and it was a deer, a huge deer about the size of a small horse. Not one of those miniature toy horses either. It was a small Clydesdale. I looked harder and saw some normal sized deer crossing behind the horse; suddenly the plan to not return empty handed look more reasonable. We only needed the horse and crew to cross the opening, follow a ridge line a couple hundred yards and then pop out for a simple 80 yard rifle shot. Game on!

Fidge and I sat perfectly silent waiting on what was coming next. The anticipation built as time passed. So did the noise level in the condo. Between Fidges flatulence and crinkly snickers wrapper and me waking the dead when I opened the condo window, there was no way horse and friends knew we were there.

Turns out horse and friends had different ideas. They felt it better to parade back and forth across the opening never coming down the ridgeline and therefore never offering us a shot. By dusk Fidge and I counted about 15 deer. Were they the same ones, taking turns walking the cat walk? Who knows? We didn’t return empty either. We brought the trash from the condo back to Loggers. Don’t want those pesky raccoon rifling through the trash.

Check back soon for the belated finale with Nimrods lever action bowhunt!


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