The morning I shot my first deer with a flintlock, it was -24 below zero F. I had to leave camp and drive to a designated State Game Lands about 20 miles away. My truck barely turned over, but the engine sparked to life just as I thought the battery was finished. As I drove the snow covered dirt road going to the hunting area, I noticed my truck was bouncing to the point that my head was hitting the roof. I thought the dirt road had really deteriorated. This went on for nearly five miles, and was very rhythmic, and varied with my speed. It gradually lessened and then finally stopped. I realized that the extreme cold had made the flat spots on the bottom of my bias-ply truck tires take a set overnight, and it took several miles of driving until the tires rounded back out.
I shot my deer at about 9:00 AM when it was still nearly -20 below. Removing my hunting coat and gloves, and rolling my shirt sleeves above my elbows for the gutting chore was nippy. After I opened the body cavity, I reached into the belly to roll out the stomach and intestines, etc. Sticking my frozen hands into those warm guts felt like fire, and I briefly pulled back because it felt like I was being scalded. Then I gingerly put my hands back in and left them for a long time to thaw out. Guts never felt so good! We had close to a foot of snow on the ground, and the top was frozen solid enough that in most places, I could walk for 50-60 yards without breaking through the icy crust. The deer also slid very nicely on the frozen surface, and that was by far the easiest drag I ever had.
As Clapper Zapper says, being out on sub-zero days is exhilarating, if it isn't too windy. What other time can you wet your whistle by sucking on ice in your frozen beard? Most of my hunting buddies don't share that thought, so I spend those days mostly hunting by myself. Probably not smart, but I love it. Typically, the only sign that there is another human in the world is to look into clear cold skies and see a contrail from a jet.
