Disappointed with Bostick Plantation hunt

They say all experience is useful…even if it just means you learn not to make the same mistake again.

I hope that’s true of my just-completed deer/boar hunting trip to the Bostick Plantation, given to my father in May as a birthday present. During this trip, we saw virtually no game, were housed in a hovel (the "fully-renovated" main lodge) and were forced to listen to our guides’ pained tales of better times. The hot weather, we were told (it was not hot), was keeping the game from moving. The guides were pleasant; the office staff less so.

The 24 hunters in camp during our stay on the 10,000-acre plantation got a combined total of one tiny 8-point deer and three small hogs, most of that total coming from the non-trophy area not touted by Plantation literature. We were allowed two hogs a day or one hog and one deer. I personally saw three small deer (biggest was a 3” spike buck), NO pigs during hunting hours (our real objective in going there to hunt), four turkeys, about 20 armadillos, one raccoon and countless squirrels. My father shot at one small hog, saw 5 tiny deer during the 30+ hours that we hunted and a couple turkeys. This from the place which boasts the “hunt of a lifetime.”

Spare me.

From their website:

“We do not allow any buck to be harvested unless it has a spread of at least 16". We want all of our younger bucks to have the opportunity to grow up, mature, and become a trophy for some lucky hunter in another season or two. Our very strict Trophy Management Plan combined with our habitat management program have allowed us to maintain some of the BEST HUNTING in the South!”

If true, and game was truly abundant, that practice should have resulted in scads of young deer running around However, they just didn’t put in an appearance during the four days we were there. Judging by some other reviews, they’ve been scarce at other times too.

I looked out in my own pasture this morning and saw seven deer and 12 turkeys. Game over…the Rantmeister’s own plantation has a better claim to the title…and I don’t sell hunts.

I should have researched the place more thoroughly on the internet before choosing to hunt there. I would have found numerous reviews from people complaining about the lack of game. You can’t run 30-50 people per week through a free range, non-stocked hunting area and expect to have a good hunting experience. All hunting at Bostick is also done from stands which have mainly been in place for years…and all the game knows the location of the stands (which probably stink to high heaven with human scent from years of high-intensity use.) Hunters are prohibited from stalking game and must remain at their stands, even after shooting something – which could mean leaving the game rotting in the sun while waiting for the guides to come back at the end of the hunting session.

I saw a few hog tracks along muddy sections of the plantation, but virtually no deer tracks. I also saw only two deer during our after-dark rides back to camp – leaving me to the conclusion that game is in mighty short supply there.

The guides also seemed to know each of the very-few deer seen…not a good sign for a place supposedly bursting with gamey goodness.

In the end, I can’t blame the Bostick people for trying to make money…but I can blame myself for not checking their reviews more thoroughly. Lesson learned…fool me once, shame on you…fool me twice, shame on me.

Entering that fall mindset

And so the summer of theater now morphs into the fall of the hunter-gatherer.

We finished up the three-week run of Camelot yesterday at the Ashtabula Arts Center with the best-by-far performance of the run. Energy was up, characterization was strong and, for a change, most of the lines were as written by the playwright. Result: A truly deserved standing ovation. The big “Fie on Goodness” dance scene was rocking.

Now I shift into my fall mindset…something approaching the raucous Ted Nugent “Kill ‘Em and Grill ‘Em” worldview, sans the need to shout to the masses.

It’s hunting time…come early this year thanks to the present I gave my father for his birthday…a Russian Boar/Deer in Velvet combo hunt in way-down-south-and-swampy South Carolina Aug. 23-26. Friday afternoon was spent at the range, sighting in some of the guns we’ll take on the trip.

I’ve opted to go with a .257 Weatherby Mark V, Savage 16 weather warrior in .300 wsm and a Ruger 77 Mark 2 Mannlicher in .308 (more on this later.) Dad is taking his Remington 700 muzzleloader and his crossbow and may borrow one of my rifles.

We’re allowed a deer and a boar (or two boar) each day of the hunt. Minimum size for deer to be taken is 16” antler spread. We’ll be hunting at the Bostick Plantation in Estill, SC. My father, at age 78, has been talking about boar hunting for years, but never got around to doing anything about it. With the death of my mother in February, and my father beginning to show signs of age, time has taken on greater significance. I decided the time for this dream of his was now or it might very well be never.

Anyway, at the range I shot the .308 for the first time – I had it bore sighted at Gander Mountain last week. First shot at 50 yards was an inch high and ¾ of an inch left at 50 yards – not bad. We moved the target back to 100 yards and I proceeded to put 8 bullets through pretty much the same hole – it tuned into a ragged ¾ inch hole…from a 20-inch barrel! My 13-year-old son also shot the gun once and put it though the same hole – I’d say that gun’s a keeper!

My father brought two different muzzleloader bullets of the same weight to try. First shot: 4” high at 50 yards and 3” left. Next shot: off the paper. What!?! Next shot 3” high, 2” left. Fourth shot: 18” to the right.

Now I know Dad shakes a little bit, but that was ridiculous.

We moved the target back to 100 yards. Dad’s first shot: Centered, 2” high. The next shot hit the ground at least 30 yards short of the target! Apparently Dad had been alternating the muzzleloader bullets when shooting – one brand of bullet was flying true while the other brand was taking off in random directions. My son and I also shot the gun with the suspect bullets – my shot hit about 30 feet to the right of the target and my son’s shot was about 9 feet too high.

I never saw anything like it…the only thing I can figure is that the two part sabots for the bullets were breaking when Dad loaded the not-too-clean gun and so the bullets were coming out of the barrel sideways and flying in random directions. I made that frugal son-of-the-Depression throw those bullets in the nearest garbage can.

I’ll post results of the hunt next weekend.

Garbage can of death?

Famous garbage can

Pictures of the "Dreaded Garbage Can of Death" at Cleveland Hopkins Airport yesterday. No less than four news crews got pictures of the inside of this garbage can...here, the Channel 5 crew actually gets video of a human emptying the can...after getting their obligatory contents pic...do I smell Emmy?

Media swarm

Media lemmings

The media was out in force yesterday at Cleveland Hopkins Airport, thanks to the heightened state of terrorism alert following the arrest of the accused British Muslims who intended to blow up jets full of people. Here, everyone gathers around a Hopkins bigwig, doing their pitiful best to sound insightful and knowledgeable. Here's a question: Isn't it time that media people were chosen more for their reporting abilities and intelligence than looks?

I watched the media as we waited for the arrival of our latest exchange student...watched them scurry after one another to make sure no station got footage the others didn't have. It was like watching a flock of chickens...when one chicken finds something and pecks it, all the other chickens have to come over and peck the item (even if it's a rock) because that's what chickens do.

Apparently media people pursue that strategy as well.

I actually watched one video guy film the inside of the garbage can, then observed all the other photographers come shambling over for their own garbage can footage...it was laughable.

Hey RNC...Senator RINO can rot!

I got an email this morning from the Republican National Convention, seeking to whip up support among the faithful for the start of the campaign season.

“The fight is on! Hillary Clinton and the Democrats want to take back Congress and the White House, and Ohio is ground zero in their effort to pursue a liberal agenda.

We need your help now more than ever before! During the week of Aug. 14-19, we are mobilizing a massive, statewide army of volunteers in an all-out, week-long drive to reach thousands of Ohio voters on behalf Ken Blackwell, Mike DeWine and the rest of our Republican team.”

Regular readers know my feelings for soon-to-be-gone Ohio uber-RINO Sen. Mike DeWine. If he were dying of thirst, I would refuse to give him the sweat off my…never mind. This incumbent “Gang of 14” member voted for illegal alien amnesty and filibustering of judicial nominees, going against the wishes of his party and the bulk of his constituents. He’s an anti-gun, Washington insider who forgot his job was to represent his constituents…he’ll learn his lesson in November.

And a side note to the RNC’s Bob Bennett: Mentioning DeWine in your emails is not a good way to whip up your Buckeye State supporters. DeWine spit in our faces for his entire last term…guilt by association with that turd could tarnish your appeal, too.

Dress rehearsal trainwreck

Last night, the dress rehearsal for Camelot morphed into something more closely resembling “Ten Little Indians.”

It started when our Lancelot, proud warrior with a great voice, slipped after running into the theater and trying to jump up onto the round table (encumbered in chain mail..) He ended up running knees-first into the side of the platform table, giving himself a two-inch gash across his knee and worrying Doc-wife that he had cracked his kneecap. Much gauze and ice bags were applied. A ride to Doc-wife’s ER in the ambulance earned him four stitches and a clean x-ray.

Hopefully, he’ll be able to limp through tonight’s opening performance. If not, the director will be the backup.

Then an actor playing an aged knight was bitten by his (supposed) friendly canine traveling companion. More gauze was applied and he continued with the show.

In a scene featuring witches, ogres and fairies, an ogre accidentally smashed his (real life) wife (who plays a witch) in the face. More ice applied and a black eye expected…not bad for the witch scene, but sorta unseemly when she has to play a lady of the court.

The director pulled out the old chestnut that a bad dress rehearsal means a great opening night…Tony Awards, here we come!

Go Hilary!

Here's a Hilary who's actually got her head in the right place.

Kudos!!!