Is there a difference between leather and rubber boots whe it comes to scent? Do rubber one should in scent better? I'm debating on switching to rubber.
Thanks!
Pat
I'd rather wear leather boots that breath and give me support.
sort of, but not really. Stumping around in the woods in NE PA is fun in sneakers and such, until you step into some ankle deep wet land muck. Then you're in muddy wet sneakers for the rest of the walk about. The gameland that I usually hunt has a stream that crosses the access road, you aren't hunting until you walk through this so waterproof boots are a necessary, and it's nice to have them higher that 8". I've hunted in sneakers, hiking boots and rubber boots. Even hunted in my old steal toe work shoes a few times (nearly killed myself cuz they had no traction). I liked the sneakers (which were actually sneaker type hiking shoes) but when it got colder out so did my feet and forget about the time I stepped into that ankle deep puddle of wet land muck. The hiking boots were good, nice and warm but heavy and clunky when I was in full stalk mode. They tended to leak when I stepped in water also. I had a nice set of knee high rubber hunting boots, don't remember the name but there are a ton of them now so it doesn't matter what a pair of bbots were called 20 years ago. Muck boots would be my choice now but Lacross are good too. Warm, dry and a snug fit at the ankles with plenty of traction. But, to each his own. whatever floats yer boat.
If I've got a long hike to/from the stand, then I have a pair of Brownings that feel like house slippers on my feet.
But if it's not too much of a trek, then it's all about the weather - uninsulated Maine Guide Boot-style boots as temps allow, and insulated pac-style boots when the temps drop.
To me, nothing's worse than cold toes/feet in a metal treestand.
LMFAO
Mike
The boots I bought were really comfortable when I first tried them on in the store - good fit, snug around the ankles which gave good support, and the camo pattern looked really snazzy with the rest of my hunting garb.
But then the trouble started.
First hunt of the season was an evening hunt that involved a bit of a walk. By the time I got to my stand, my feet were all sweated up. They were so moist that each step made a little squeak from sweat squishing around between my foot and the boot. Wasn't much of a big deal, except when I was walking out of the woods after dark that evening, it sounded like I was stepping on a mouse with each step, and that made me kinda sad.
When I got home, I tried taking my right boot off, and it wouldn't budge. So I tried the left. I think it was actually tighter than my right. I tried wedging the heel of the boot under the riser of the garage step and prying, but that just made me feel like I was trying to fold my foot in half.
Mary Ann noticed me rolling around in the driveway, beating the back of my heels against the blacktop, and she made the mistake of coming out and asking me if there was anything wrong. That's when I got the bright idea of asking for her assistance - you know, like you see on the cowboy movies where one guy stands with his back to the other feller, bends over, grabs the guy's boot, and then the guy uses his other foot to push on his "assistant's" butt and the boot pops right off.
The boot didn't pop right off.
What popped off was Mary Ann's hands from my boot and she wound up doing a kind of rolling head stand halfway across the back yard. Good thing the garden fence was there to slow her down a bit.
Sure was quiet in the house the rest of the evening...heck for the rest of the week for that matter.
I was about ready to resort to just cutting the dang boots off since Mary Ann (when she was still talking to me) insisted that there was no way I was sleeping in our marital bed with them on unless I wanted to fulfill the cowboy adage that "at least he died with his boots on".
My brilliant bride needed something to throw at me, and it just happened to be a box of Arm & Hammer baking soda. Bingo! I dumped a generous amount of that powder down each boot, did a little Irish jig to get it coated on my sweaty feet, and presto, the boots popped off with only and few grunts and groans from yours truly.
Well, getting those boots off with the aid of baking soda had me figuring that if I poured some in my boots before putting them on, it would be easier to get them off later, and it was. I also figured that a little baking soda worked pretty good, so a lot would work even better.
Not really.
Prior to my next hunt, I poured a generous amount (generous equating to something like a half a box) of baking soda in each boot, and those boots slipped on just like a pair of silk gloves. I started my trek to my stand, and I noticed a white cloud billowing around me, like the ground was smoking. I thought maybe I stepped on a dried puffball or something. A couple of more steps and I discovered the tops of my boots looked like the exhaust from an old Buick with a cracked head.
On the plus side, it worked well as a wind direction indicator.
On the down side, I thought I heard some snickering and giggles from the trees as I walked past unseen hunters looking like "Pigpen" from the Charlie Brown comic with a cloud of dust perpetually surrounding me.
I see just fine stretch. And the Indians killed game cuz they were born in the woods and lived it. Not to mention there weren't so many hunters then as there are now. Back then, most deer never even saw a human before the arrow hit them. Besides, the indians woulda used them if they had them but I don't think they had rubber boot way back then... well, you would know that, you were there :)