Afield: Four archers with plenty of arrows and a plan? Still no match

The winter pursuit of snowshoe hares eventually had some in the hunting group convinced that hallucinations were at work.

For the Minnesota Star Tribune
January 25, 2009 at 4:29PM
Snowshoe hares are common across central and northern Minnesota. Unlike rabbits, hares turn white during winter to match their snowy surroundings.
Snowshoe hares are common across central and northern Minnesota. Unlike rabbits, hares turn white during winter to match their snowy surroundings. (Photo By Bill Marchel/The Minnesota Star Tribune)

BRAINERD — Last Tuesday, during the current difficult interval in our nation's economy, four hunters did their part to ensure a profitable 2009, at least for the manufacturers of carbon hunting arrows.

Four archers, Lindy Frasl of Fort Ripley, Brian Smude of Brainerd, Bela Smude of Baxter and I, gathered midafternoon at a chunk of county land not too far from town.

We hit the woods brandishing bows and arrows. Our objective was to spend the remaining two hours of daylight chasing snowshoe hares, forest cousins to the more familiar cottontail rabbits that tend to reside near human habitation. It was a splendid afternoon. The sky was blue, the air crisp but not cold, the wind relatively calm.

A week earlier I had scouted this woodland and found a patch of balsam fir nestled in a rolling oak forest. The tallest balsams were perhaps 50 years old. I guessed they had been planted roughly 50 years ago and now stood tall in long rows about 30 feet apart, near-perfect triangles of green reaching for the sun. The offspring of those adult trees grew in thick clumps between the rows. All of this provided snowshoe hares an ideal hideout in an otherwise mature oak forest inhospitable because of the open understory.

Which is to say snowshoe hares, like ruffed grouse, are critters of young forests.

As we stepped between balsams big and small, the snow reached nearly to our knees. But it was a soft snow, fluffy to the point we could drag our feet a bit, thus eliminating the laborious marching-band-motion needed to tread through snow that is deep and compacted.

I've bowhunted for snowshoe hares since, well, since I was young enough that my friends and I needed to convince a parent to drop us off outside of town near a likely hare haunt. And, if earlier on those days we had shoveled the driveway or otherwise convinced the parent of our worth, they might come back to pick us up.

During the years since those youthful hunts, my comrades and I have developed a system of hunting hares that often allows an archer a close shot necessary in heavy cover. Our preferred method of hunting snowshoes employs three or four hunters to make short drives. Usually two hunters attempt to push the hares while the others take stands. We execute short, circular drives of 200 yards or less using fields, roads or other openings on at least one or two sides to act as barriers. Snowshoe hares are hesitant to cross any opening and are thus funneled past the waiting standers.

Snowshoe hares use a maze of runways as they travel in the snow. These paths thread together feeding and loafing areas -- an uprooted tree here, a brush pile there. They are highways the hares travel upon as they trek about their home ranges. The hunters who act as standers select ambush points near one or more of these hare trails while the drivers -- using the openings as barriers -- attempt to move the hares past their waiting colleagues.

Brian and Bela acted as standers on our initial drive. They took positions along hare trails evident in the snow on the south end of the strips of balsams while Lindy and I circled ahead. We stayed on the outskirts of the balsams to avoid jumping any hares. When we had gone about 150 yards to the north, we turned east and then back south toward the standers. Lindy and I stayed about 30 yards apart as we advanced.

As the gantlet closed, Lindy announced a hare had darted around him and escaped to the rear. We reorganized, and this time Bela and I stood while Lindy and Brian attempted to push the hares toward us.

I stood rock still among the balsams, bow up, arrow nocked. I swiveled my head slowly left and right. Suddenly a hare appeared, white fur against white snow. The cryptic critter stopped less than 10 yards away, partially concealed by a balsam bough. I drew my bow and shot.

Somehow I missed. The hare ran to my left but stayed within the confines of our drive. I slowly removed an arrow from my quiver, nocked it and shot again. Same result. This time the hare darted around me and disappeared into its frozen world.

Then another hare emerged from the tangle of balsams. Brian shot once, and so did Lindy before the hare escaped our drive.

In the meantime Bela had seen nothing even though he was within 20 yards of all the action. "Are you guys seeing things?" he said.

Ultimately, we managed to bag two hares before the day ended.

Last Tuesday, our shooting abilities were not high points of the day. The four of us lost about 10 arrows, swallowed up by the deep, fluffy snow. In the past we have occasionally remembered to carry brightly colored ribbon so we could indicate the spots where we have lost arrows, with hopes of returning after snow melt. On this hunt we mentally marked where our arrows were lost.

In Minnesota the hunting season on snowshoe hares continues through Feb. 28. The daily bag limit is 10, and shooting hours are a half-hour before sunrise to sunset.

The best advice if you are planning to hunt snowshoe hares with archery tackle? Bring plenty of arrows and don't forget marking ribbon. Oh, and buy stock in the carbon arrow companies.

Bill Marchel, an outdoors columnist and photographer, lives near Brainerd.

about the writer

about the writer

BILL MARCHEL