Ordinarily, I would wait until harvesting a deer — or the end of the season — to talk about my hunting experiences. This time, I have to get it off my chest.
I have been open about my hunting mistakes over the years and, even though some had happy endings, this one did not.
After a fun but fruitless opening day hunting with my buddies Chris Lander and Billy Lander, I got back out again during the first full week of the season.
A predicted light wind out of the west/southwest led me to hunt the northern side of the land I have so graciously been allowed to hunt.
Honestly, it should be a no-brainer to hunt there all the time, given the oak-covered ridge that is the featured attraction. It’s impossible not to make a racket walking in, given the large number of fallen branches and sticks, the dry leaves and the acorns that litter the ground.
A light rain was falling upon my arrival just prior to legal shooting time. It helped quiet my steps on the way up the ridge. It didn’t do much to reduce the crunching of acorns under my boots, but when hunting whitetails, that’s not a bad problem to have.
I didn’t get 200 yards from my car when I heard a deer blow and immediately flush a ruffed grouse. I stopped, crouched down and waited for several minutes, but didn’t hear another sound or see movement in the subdued predawn light.
Beginning my ascent along the ridge, I began picking my way through a labyrinth of blowdowns. Not having spent much time in the area previously, I tried to get high enough where I would have a decent view.
It’s only flat in a couple of places and drops off precipitously on both sides. At the far end, it forms a saddle with another higher ridge, which is on another property.
I crept my way along, looking for the perfect spot. I was distracted by a chattering squirrel off to my left. When taking the next step, I caught a glimpse of a doe about 25 yards away as it bounded down over the side of the ridge, out of sight.
Three seconds later, another doe turned tail and gracefully disappeared out of sight. I hadn’t been ready, so my antlerless tag would go unused this time.
About an hour later, I settled on a promising spot located halfway down a more gradual slope. Among its features was a moss-covered ledge that was too damp to sit down on.
I had forgotten my little foam seat cushion and chose instead to stand, leaning up against the rocks. That would turn out to be a deal-breaker.
I began with a short series of soft buck grunts, then waited. Maybe 15 minutes later, I unleashed a series of antler rattling (using a cell phone app), followed by some doe bleats and a few more grunts with the tube.
With a 5-6 mph breeze blowing, I focused my gaze downwind. Not two minutes had passed when I made the mistake of turning my head to the right.
A beautiful buck, which had crept silently to within 30 yards, reared its majestic head and antlers, spun around 180 degrees and bolted.
Armed with my new Browning BAR .308, I might have been able to get off a couple of shots at its head or neck. But with all the blowdowns and the sloping terrain, I didn’t shoot.
I scrambled up the ridge in the same direction, hoping the buck would stop, or possibly change direction, and I might catch another glimpse of it. I didn’t.
Once the excitement and exhilaration of the moment had subsided, I was dejected. If I had remained motionless for another 10 or 15 seconds, that deer would have walked into view.
Instead, my unwillingness to either sit down on the rocks, or the ground, or to find another tree to help break up my outline, had resulted in a blown opportunity.
For all the good decisions I had made to put myself in position to harvest a deer, the inattention to stealth and concealment had cost me the chance to tag out.
I also had been fooled by the buck’s decision to approach from upwind. It obviously wasn’t concerned about any potential dangers, the calls having convinced it there was a doe in the vicinity and another buck pursuing it.
It’s a development I had not anticipated.
I thought to myself, how many times was I going to do something stupid to ruin a hunt? It has happened often, including last year, although I have been lucky enough to overcome some of the mistakes.
Deer are superior to hunters in vision, hearing and smell — and they’re a lot faster running on four legs. Standing out in the open is a bad idea.
A hunter just can’t afford to squander such a great opportunity and I figure I get one shot opportunity a year at a buck. I hope to see the buck again, but it likely will be on high alert now.
I have to chalk it up to learning another tough hunting lesson. It’s a long season, and the rut will be ramping up, so I’m hopeful the big boy and I will cross paths again.
