Taking My Own Advice
The old truck required some repairs before I was able to go on my end of the season leisure deer hunt. With the repairs complete, I slid the gun case behind the seat and tossed my pack on the seat. Between first light and noon, I parked the truck and entered the woods intent on enjoying the last day of deer season.
Last week, I went on a rant about deer hunting and enjoying the natural world surrounding us. I was about to take my own advice. With just a few things in my pack like my lunch and jacket, I went to spend the remainder of the day in pursuit of whitetails.
A Leisure Deer Hunt
The weather was a perfect fall day. The sky was a beautiful blue without a cloudy for as far as the eyes could see. A light breeze moved the 45 degree air from the southwest without much variance. Wearing my favorite hunting boots and wool shirt, I was ready for the day. There would be no tree stands on this hunt. I wanted to keep it simple, wander around, maybe still hunt, maybe find a tree to rest against and post for a while. I was going to let the woods tell me what to do.
I had taken only a few steps from the truck when a buck rose from his resting spot and ambled away. His antlers long with a strong curve toward the center, but thin and the main beam lacked points. The buck was a young four pointer with the two long main beams and short brow tines. As I have matured as a deer hunter, I have loosely adopted a general rule of either shooting a doe or a buck with 8 points or more. I did say loosely, and there are times when I do kill young bucks, but more often than not, I allow them to walk. This guy got the pass. He lived another day.
The dry leaf litter at my feet loudly crunched with each step. Even in the open grassy fields my footfalls were not quiet. This was not a day to still hunt for the noise was too much. Realizing this, I stood along the edge of the grassy field thinking of my next move.
The valley below held several buck rubs highlighted by the afternoon sun. Fresh tracks and scat marked the trail entering the overgrown field from the thick greenbrier filled valley. At the end of the valley the greenbriers faded into short deer trimmed grasses and antler rubbed cedar trees. It was a day to sit and watch.
Here inside the woods a few yards from the overgrown field, I sat against a tall oak looking toward the valley and grass field. The sun warmed my left side of my face. The breeze tickled my right. I kicked the leaf litter at my feet exposing the dark rich soil. Now the shuffling of my feet would not cause a rustling of leaves.
Scanning my surroundings, memories of past hunts filled my mind. Twenty two years had passed since I last stepped foot here. What once was part of a hunting club property was now state land open to hunting by anyone willing to walk a little bit. Twenty two years is a long time. I remembered the layout of the land and even began to remember some of my favorite places where I would hang that old noisy climbing tree stand my wife had bought me for my birthday back then. The tree stand is long gone, replaced with a better version. The wife is now my X-wife. These woods remain much as they were, but not without growth.
Not all hunts can be in Wyoming, sometimes just a leisure hunt close to home fulfills the hunter’s soul.
Areas that once were plowed crops are now thickets. What once were thickets are now stands of tall trees. The lay of the land is similar and recognizable, but it has grown. I would imagine the woods are saying the same about me right now.
What once was a young guy who chased the deer several times a week for months at a time while never really being all that successful has become this older gentleman who still uses deer hunting as an excuse to get outside and play. The layout is the same, but the stride is a little shorter and he gets winded a whole lot faster than 22 years earlier.
I had wished to spend the afternoon slowly walking, stalking for deer. I soon realized the conditions were not conducive for that style of hunting. Analyzing, accepting and adjusting to the current conditions instead of forcing my plans on the land is a lesson hard to learn. Even after 22 years, I’m not so sure I still hear all I am intended to hear.
The long afternoon sun faded in the west. With the grey of evening intruding on the day, my hand tightly grasped my rifle. This was deer hunter’s time. The time between day and night is when the largest bucks of the forest rise and walk among the field edges. None appeared and I returned to my truck in the dark without harvesting a deer.
Firearms deer season comes to a close for yet another year. After expereincing 36 opening days and thus now 36 last days, I can honestly say, I think I might finally be getting the hang of this deer hunting thing even if I don’t get to shoot a deer on each outing.
