Thursday Night Buck

By 4 p.m. I was hiking into my stand wishing for a good evening hunt.  I had previously scouted the area a few evenings before the opener of deer season—this included study of aerial maps. Because I had hunted rabbits on the same land twice before, I knew the layout well. Choosing a bramble covered hillside splitting an  open forest and a brushy field for my stand site, I counted on working the edge for arriving and departing deer. The spot provides a good view of the forest and covers a a few trails leading into the thicket. 

After I figured out the quietest and quickest way to my stand, I slipped into place with a feeling of relief. It always feels great to lift my feet off the crunching leaves that I always fear alert deer to my presence.  Fifteen minutes passed and I spotted a blaze orange figuring doping around the opposite hillside.  Experience has taught me that hunters on the move can be allies when sitting on the stand. This gentleman had no idea of my presence until he was literally 25 yards away from me. When he finally spotted me, he actually jumped.  He apologized vocally while I waved him over frantically hoping he'd stop talking.  When he was close enough I whispered to him, "No worries," and we worked out a plan for his exit.  He agreed to depart above me in the open field and circle all the way around the perimeter of the land.

About five minutes later a shot echoed from his direction. I wondered if I had just walked him into a large buck. Nearly half an hour later those worries were alleviated when I saw him crest the far ridge with nothing in tow.  Darkness was creeping in rapidly, and I glanced at my watch.  4:57 p.m.  I had about 17 minutes left.

The great thing about an evening hunt is that it is much easier to stay in place until the very end of the hunt. The cold doesn't have a chance to freeze the joints stiff.  Five minutes passed, and I began to think that there just had to be a deer or two on the move with many hunters calling it a day and beating it back to the warmth of their vehicles for the drive home.

Crunch, crunch! Crunch, crunch! My eyes strained to see movement in the draw below. It better not be another squirrel.  Those little heartbreakers drove me crazy on opening day.

A dark shape moved, and then another, and another. Deer! Headed right at me! My heart hit a higher gear and I remained motionless. It was a race against twilight.  A large doe led a small pack.  She was following a trail that seemed to lead straight toward my tree.  Behind her was an equally large doe, followed by a smaller doe, and then a fourth deer.  Checking down the triumvirate, I concentrated on the one bringing up the rear. A shiny antler seemed to glow behind his ear. As he turned my mind confirmed it: a buck!

He was only 15 yards away, but I could not see anything more than a spike set. As he turned broadside, I thought I spotted another point, but he couldn't have been more than a four-pointer, most likely a three-pointer. Yet, I wasn't devastated. I shifted my rifle slightly just to place the scope on the antlers just to be sure. He detected some movement and squared me up, but he didn't spook. The immense tree at my back broke up my profile and the Scent-Away I had sprayed on myself did the trick. None of the four seemed aware of my presence.

As I observed him I noticed all the classic signs of an immature buck: thin neck, shallow chest, and long, narrow snout.  The spikes were a nice long set, so I bid him farewell in hopes of seeing him next season.

Strapping on my headlamp after waiting another ten minutes so as not to chase off the pack, I began my short trek homeward.  It was an exciting hunt.  I was thankful to see some deer, especially so close to my stand. Confidence in the spot increased, and I am already looking forward to spending some more time there in hopes of intercepting a good buck.