I tire and am saddened to hear on some forums the frustration, aggravation, and sometimes boredom that some have during the deer season. The advent of todays hunting stands, whether they be the lockons, the ladder stands, or blinds, is both a blessing and a curse. Certainly I was taught early by my Dad that hunting high improved the odds. Even when deer were scarce, he would sit on a limb with his long bow, hunting. He always saw mature deer that way. But he and my grandfather hunted as much walking thru the woods as any other way, and each would take deer much larger than usually seen in those days. But these stands have become in many ways our addiction. Many are littterally scared to walk the earth in search of their game. This in part is to blame on our indoctrination by some groups who will not be named/QD... Our fear of not being able to take that huge buck for some has destroyed their love of the sport in my opinion.
So now as the season ends for many, lets talk of that walkabout hunting that can be so much fun. Call it what you will... Still-hunting, Slip-hunting, or Stalk-hunting. Now I spend most my time hunting from prime areas in a treestand. Ilove them. But if that is how I'm going to hunt for 3 + months, I'd go crazy. My son took his first bow buck in his preteen years, while slipping down a logging road. Shot the buck at 15 yards. Now I'm here to tell you, killing any deer, any where, in any part of the country, is something to be proud of. But I promise, shooting a deer, that you have hunted like the predators that you hate, on the ground, up close and personal, will get your heart beating harder and a bigger smile on your face than any hunt you can make. If you tire of your stands, staring at the same block of land, day after day, then by gosh, change it up. It is not difficult, and you will learn tons about deer you never knew. Can you take prime deer this way, you bet. Ask the guy up the road from me that took a 22 pointer this year. Four hour drag out of the public land ravine. Make a commitment that you will do so next season, and more importantly, teach those young kids the same. Why do you think they as a group are losing interest? A lot of factors, but a big chunk is simply the loss of comradery, and the intimate hunt without second guessing themselves.
Disclaimer.....if you want a trophy story this go around, move to another thread. I'm not a horn hunter per se, but I've got a few of the 140, 150, and 160s antlers piled in corner my house and garage. I'm not that type of addict and seldom will even mount a rack ( and I don't mind those who are, just not me), but if you want to imagine a big smile on my face, then read on...
So anyways, with the season being a bit slow, and my target bucks broken up as I described a few posts ago, I went out for a Thanksgiving hunt changing things up. I climbed in stand early afternoon and sat for an hour, letting the woods settle. Climbing down, I quickly moved thru what I knew would be unproductive areas to a spot I wanted to slip thru. Stopping at its thick, steep edge, I stood for 10 minutes, letting my mind become one with the forests. Listen, smell. Hear the Peliated Woodpecker in the distance? Not its hammer like drilling, but listen till you hear its feet scratching the bark as it moves. Why is the squirrel fussing? A predator, a competitor, or maybe announcing the presence of a buck as they will do. The creaking of the branches as the wind blows, the flapping of a crows wings as he scoots somewhere unknown.
Now 3 steps. Stop. Stop. Wait. Another 2 or 5 steps to a dark tree or bush. Listen. Look. Not for the deer. But for it's horizontal outline against all the vertical in the woods. Wait 3 minutes. Another few steps. Look again. For that flicker of an ear, or tail. Or that faint slow, soft step of feeding deer. Some more steps. Slow. On your toes, not the heel-toe clop of a human. But gingerly, feeling the stick beneath your foot before you place your weight and snap it.
Wind in my face. A grunt and snort call hang around my neck. Did you know a deer snorting at you is not always a bad thing if they can't smell or make out what you are? Answer them back. They are asking who you are. If they snort twice, answer back with two, etc. Often they will just settle back down after a few conversations with you. Smell or make you out? Then no reason to snort back.
And so I continued. 200 yards maybe in that hour. Evening was coming on. Still moving but a few steps at a time, wind still in my face, listening, peeriing into the thick brush.
An antler. 70 yards. Facing away, with his neck turned 180 deg looking at me. Looked like a magazine cover in the dimming light. Scope goes on to him, and I bring back down my rifle. I'll let him go... be much nicer next year. Then I said nope, I'm in predator mode. I have a den of pups to feed. Scope back on deer, if he turns, I'm taking the shot.
Taking in the beauty of the moment, indeed he turned, hard to his left running cross hill. Mind goes into autopilot. Amazing how the brain goes thru its complicated microsecond calculations. Running deer are not hard to shoot... if you learned before the moment. Brain is annalyzing. Tree, tree , bush, jump, tree, turn, open spot, jump. Then that mid slow motion pause in the air as gravity begins to bring the deer back down to earth.
I awake from my stupor as the WSM recoils against my shoulder. I instantly work the bolt to chamber the second of two cartridges I had loaded. Where was he? Can't find him. Ah there he lays, in a heap where I fired the shot. A smile runs across this fellows face, proud to be still able to make that shot. My mind shuffles thru others that I had taken as they tried to run away. The one so many years ago with the side hammer blackpowder round ball, the 140 class a few years ago with ML, and yea, that 160 on my wall shot as he ran, with this same 270.
I walked up to the buck, and I promise no magazine cover trophy would make me smile anymore. He had fooled me a little as I thot he was indeed wider. But no matter. I was happy. The predator had succeeded.
And once again as I always do, rubbed the thick coat of fur, feeling the heat escaping from the life that I had taken. My turn will come one day. That's ok. After sitting for a while, I grabbed the buck to begin the long drag off the mountain, and as the snowflakes began to cover the ground, I swear , that now gone old friend of mine, patted me on the back, and with that plug tobacco, shit eatin grin he always had, said, Good hunt Doug, Good hunt.
