It was the most exciting fall of my hunting life.
The first week, I called in a big buck, only to have it bust me. It was one of a handful of missed opportunities during the recently concluded season.
There were close calls, which taught me more important hunting lessons. But by the time muzzleloader season ended, I was almost relieved.
The grind of hunting, interwoven with more important real-life responsibilities, can exact an emotional toll. There’s some guilt associated with putting other things on hold for five or six weeks to hunt, and appreciation for those who make it possible.
One lesson was familiar: slow down and survey your surroundings while still-hunting, a technique in which you walk slowly through deer habitat, hoping to encounter game.
On a hemlock knob one day, I got within 15 or 20 yards of three deer, including a buck, before they saw or heard me and took off. They were right there, yet I was the last to know.
Early another morning, I learned the hard way how to properly engage the action on my Browning BAR .308. When two does came crunching along and stepped out at 20 yards, all I got was a “click” when I squeezed the trigger.
Week three of the season produced a second meeting with the tall-tined buck I had seen previously. My son William joined me in the blind for the magic hour.
We did some calling and waited. With the sun down and light fading, William heard a deer moving through the dry leaves. Moments later, the buck moved partially into view in a low area and stopped.
Having previously decided that William would be the shooter, I had leaned my rifle against the side of the blind.
Note: Don’t do that.
We were down to the last three or four minutes of legal shooting time, but I knew from the head and antlers that it was the big buck.
We were both standing, but William’s view was blocked by a tree. In the several seconds it took to change positions, the deer had headed to our left and behind some cover. We ran out of time, but the adrenaline rush was amazing.
Another evening, in the same spot, I saw a couple of does walking nearby. They remained obscured by bushes and, rather than walk into plain sight, turned slightly away and didn’t reappear.
The following week, I put a pop-up blind in a different area, near where deer had been showing up regularly on a trail camera.
I erected the blind and sat down, only to realize that I didn’t like which way the door was facing.
I pulled the four corner stakes, went inside, lifted it up by the roof, spun it a quarter-turn, then put it down and replaced the stakes.
Not 10 minutes later, as I positioned my chair (with a couple of windows partially unzipped), a group of four deer, including a buck, caught a glimpse of the movement and bounded away. They had been within a few feet and, if I had been sitting motionless, would have walked right past the blind.
Based on that bonehead move, I figured that I didn’t deserve to see another deer, but the most thrilling and excruciating encounter of the year came later that same day.
I had gone home to take care of some things, then scooted back over for the evening sit. I still hadn’t completely figured out my vantage point and shooting lanes from the haphazardly placed blind.
A little more than an hour before the end of legal time, I heard the landowner arrive and load up some firewood about 150 yards away. He then drove down the road to access another piece of the property.
I had been using a combination of doe bleats and buck grunts. With the sun having set, I caught movement about 60 yards away. I hadn’t seen that particular “branch” moving in the breeze earlier.
I realized it was antlers, but the deer was almost completely obscured by trees. It was “Tall Tines” again.
I couldn’t believe it. The buck was going to walk right to me, I thought. But I couldn’t find it in the scope.
I adjusted my position in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of the huge buck as it jumped over a blowdown and disappeared behind some trees. The deer chose to walk through a low area that usually was a muck hole.
I strained to see movement, but the buck remained hidden behind trees and blowdowns scattered along a patch of slightly raised ground.
With shooting light nearly gone, I made a few desperate soft grunts in the hope the buck might turn toward me. I didn’t see it again.
I was heartened by the fact I had put myself in the right place at the correct time on a handful of occasions, even though I was unable to seal the deal.
I was reminded, the hard way, that things happen fast when deer hunting. You have to be silent, still and ready to take advantage of opportunities.
I was amazed to have three encounters with the same mature buck. Now, with hard lessons learned, I’ll have to wait until next fall to enjoy the amazing deer hunting experience again.
