• December 2007 - Volume 10, Number 5

    Features

    Bad weather can be a good omen for deer hunters.

    Within 30 minutes, the skies turned from a neutral grey to a pinkish-purple and then to midnight black. From my tripod seat I could tell the bottom was going to fall out of the sky any minute, but my timing was off.

    Beaver Dam Lake has been legendary for a century, and it shows no signs of slowing down.

    Every duck hunter in Mississippi, and most duck hunters in the nation, believe that if they’ve lived good, sportsmen-like lives and have close relationships with God, they’ll get permission to hunt at Beaver Dam before they die.

    This month, if you find the food, you’ll find the does, and if you find the does, you’ll find the bucks.

    Stacey Sims eased along the water’s edge as he worked his way toward his deer stand. The climbing stand was positioned overlooking a flooded swamp bottom.

    Which waterways are free for the public to hunt and fish, and which aren’t? Mississippi Sportsman got some interesting answers to that question.

    Each year I am pelted with a variety of questions about public water in Mississippi. The questions come from duck hunters wanting to know how far they can boat into flooded timber, fishermen wanting to know if certain lakes are public and landowners wanting to know where their property starts and where the public water stops. All are good questions.

    By this time of year, the deer have smelled enough human scent that they’re going to do as little as possible to put themselves in jeopardy. Here’s how to beat them at their own game.

    Mississippi deer hunters are blessed in many ways. To begin with, we have an extremely long season when compared to other states — Oct. 1-Jan. 31, except for Zone 2, which doesn’t close until Feb. 15.

    Once as foreign to Mississippi as the Northern Lights, a blizzard of snow geese now hits the Magnolia State every winter.

    The surroundings were surreal. A small shack sat hard against a dirt road adjacent to a huge grain field that had been harvested and left to lie until spring farming operations began anew. A cold north wind battered the mud and stubble, and toyed with a single light bulb that dangled from a cord under the tiny porch of that shack. The bulb cast eerie shadows at varying angles as it swayed randomly with each gust.

    Mississippi Sportsman contributor Cliff Covington used heavy hunting pressure to his advantage to drop this trophy buck.