HOW I DO IT

The Joy in Doing It Your Own Way

By Jim Casada

Today’s deer hunters live in a rapidly-changing world. Thanks to a major economic shakeout in the timber industry, which made timber companies sell hundreds of thousands of acres, hunters are discovering that long-established hunting clubs and leases suddenly belong to a world they have lost. A hunt club I’ve belonged to for years, which was founded long before I joined, ceased to exist this past year. It was a victim of a struggling timber company that sold the land to a developer.

Despite their many faults, timber companies must be given full marks for their dealings with sportsmen through the years. They presented hunters with reasonable rates on leases, made vast amounts of hunting land available, and often took positive steps to assist with basic wildlife management practices.

Folks who now own so much former timber company land have not followed that approach. Banks, developers and land speculators seem more interested in turning a fast buck than in fostering hunt-club traditions. With rare exceptions, they have little appreciation for — and less interest in — perpetuating what has been an integral part of the American sporting scene for generations.

As a hunting writer, I had seen those unfortunate developments coming for some time. That was why, a couple of years ago, I said to my wife, “If I’m going to have a guaranteed place to hunt in the years to come, and if we want the family tradition of closeness to the land and using game as an integral part of our diet to continue, we'd better think about trying to buy some land.”

That might seem a pretty dramatic departure for someone who was 60. Yet I wanted a place where I could go when the mood hit me; where I wouldn’t feel I was wearing out my welcome by accepting invitations to hunt too regularly, and where I could take my son-in-law or granddaughter without a second thought. Also, words from Will Rogers kept echoing through my mind: “Buy land. They ain’t making any more of it.”

The result was simple. My wife and I became landowners of a 93-acre tract, making monthly mortgage payments at a time in life when most folks weren't. I haven’t regretted it for a moment, and the continuing process of deciding how to manage the land brings me a great deal of joy.

Let’s look at my management approaches. Hopefully, they will suggest some steps to folks in similar situations.

Starting Out: Assessing the Land

My starting point is a logical for anyone interested in managing land for deer or other wildlife: I made a honest assessment of what I had, what I could afford and what my immediate and long-range goals were.

I walked the acreage carefully several times and did some initial grunt work by marking property lines and clearing limbs and brush from all-terrain vehicle trails. That gave me a feel for established deer trails, bedding areas and prevailing winds.

I found that roughly 50 acres, all of which had been clear cut five or six years earlier, constituted what one friend termed a “hell hole.” That portion of the property had not been replanted; a much better situation than if it had been returned to rows of pines. It had grown up in whatever nature produced, including a mixture of pines, briar thickets, honeysuckle vines, wild grapes and sweet gum saplings. I decided to leave everything basically intact, though fortunately, the previous landowner — a deer hunter — had cleared four long, narrow strips in the midst of this area for food plots. They had never been planted, but the basis was there — maybe five or six acres — and I liked the shapes and locations he had chosen.

Otherwise, the thickets served several useful purposes. They provided an ideal bedding area for deer, offered appreciable browse where there was honeysuckle and blackberry briars, and promised useful soft mast from wild grapes and the scattered persimmon trees in a few years. Part of my long-range plan involved paying special attention to the persimmon trees — mainly giving them a head start by keeping competing vegetation at bay with some manual cutting — and perhaps fertilizing especially lush honeysuckle patches. The cover also is a safe haven for rabbits, a decent population of quail and fine nesting habitat for wild turkeys. In time, as the trees grow, I’ll have to consider renewal of that extensive protected area through burning or other means, but that’s the better part of a decade down the road.

Almost all of the remaining land is in mature hardwoods, with the acreage split more or less between bottomland along a small stream, a long narrow hollow with a tiny branch running through it, and some deep, rough gullies that likely trace back a half-century to over-farming of cotton and significant erosion problems. The only other acreage is about a three-acre knoll — clearly an old homestead — grown up in broom sedge. For now, it has been left alone, occasionally providing a place to camp or picnic, and there’s a vague idea of using it to build a little camp house.

Professional (and other) help

If money were no object, I would have hired a wildlife-management expert to provide me with a detailed overview of what should be done. Reality dictates otherwise, so I’ve done what everyone who owns land and wants to manage it on a tight budget should do. First, I’ve been shameless in picking the brains of folks with far more expertise, including some affluent friends, along with acquaintances in the hunting industry. Most of my assistance, however, has come on two other front, which anyone can take advantage of.

For folks willing to make a few phone calls to their county agent, Soil Conservation Service folks and others in similar capacities, there is all sorts of literature and information for the asking. Likewise, a visit to your local library can pay big benefits. Toss in some free soil sampling to determine what's needed for fertilizer and lime, and you know a good bit about what needs to be done.

The other resource comes through the pages of this publication. Back issues of Whitetail News are a gold mine of information and available at www.whitetailinstitute.com. I also read internet sources. If you do a Google search using a few terms such as “wildlife management,” “food plots,” “quality deer” and “managing deer herds,” you’ll find an astounding amount of information — some useful, some not.

Making a Plan

After a couple of months of assessment, study and walking the land, I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to do. My concepts fell into three basic areas: Immediate or short-range plans, medium-range plans and long-range plans.

The early projects — where I am now — included determining where I wanted food plots, getting the ground prepared and planted, and placing permanent stands. I set a realistic budget — remember, I’m making monthly payments on the land — and have carefully stuck to it.

That budget didn’t include money for equipment, so I’m stuck with what I had from keeping a three-acre yard around my house in order, along with a bit of help from the only person outside of my family to whom I've given access to the land. He has a tilling system you hook up to a four-wheeler, and that — along with a weed-eater, a fertilizer spreader, some hand tools, a big riding mower and a heavy-duty tiller I use for gardening — constitutes my equipment arsenal. My major cash expenditures concentrate on fertilizer, lime, seed and tree seedlings.

The next step in the plan calls for creating a few more food plots and perhaps some additional trails. That will mean hiring someone with a dozer and maybe following with some tractor work. I can get that on a swap-out deal with a friend. Clearing some inferior saplings in the hardwood understory and some shooting lanes leading away from stands is also in the plan. I also want to plant a mixture of sawtooth oaks, Chinese chestnuts and persimmons along the quarter-mile of graded road that forms the property’s only vehicular access.

Later, during what my wife calls the “dream stage,” I'd create two ponds, more food plots and some type of simple two- or three-room hunting cabin. Experience has convinced me that if you have the other ingredients — such as travel corridors and bedding areas — you can’t have too many properly planned and prepared food plots.

Carrying Out the Plan

Since the start, I've had a mind set focused on getting it right the first time. I haven’t cut any corners with lime and fertilizer, and I also have plenty of sweat equity invested. Likewise, it's imperative that you use quality seed when planting food plots. Imperial Whitetail Clover meets my needs, and its proven track record has made it a logical choice. Cut cost corners as you can, but don’t do it with seed, fertilizer and lime.

Also, I've decided not to shoot any does in food plots. I don’t have any hard, factual information to support this decision, but I only shoot does at travel lanes and other areas away from food plots. I believe, especially on tracts this small, that deer will only use food plots at night if you hammer them where they feed. I’d rather watch them and hope that a fine buck will venture out to graze or chase a doe. That's the time to shoot over a food plot.

Conclusion

That’s pretty well where things stand, but I think it important to share one more critical thought. No matter your financial circumstances — and rest assured, money doesn’t flow like water in the Casada household — there is tremendous joy in doing it your own way. Whether wildlife management involves small plots or land far beyond what I own, it's flat-out fun. Every time I set foot on the ground, run through a food plot with a tiller or see a doe with a fawn ease into bedding areas, there’s a genuine thrill. So too are those special occasions — lots of them, because my wife and I have written several cookbooks and rely heavily on venison in our diet — when we dine on meat from a deer killed on the property. Such rewards are the special province of folks with a close connection to the land. For me, at least, doing it my way has been supremely meaningful. I suspect it will be the same for you.