Deer Me
© 2004 Gary L. Benton
A few years back I had a good hunting buddy, let's call him Lane. Now, Lane, was not your usual hunter. He was, and most likely still is, one of those guys who goes over board not matter what he does. Since Lane and I were both in the military when we hunted together, and we moved apart, I have lost track of him. I usually start my scouting and getting a feel for land early in the year, say August or so. Lane, always went with me, but our techniques were a bit different. This story starts in the early part of deer scouting season in the state of Oklahoma.
The morning was cold as I bent down and placed some tinder on the gray coals from last nights fire. I could see my breath as I blew life into the dying coals and leaned back to watch the slight wisp of smoke move skyward from my tinder. Suddenly, the tinder caught fire and I added a few small pieces of kindling to get the fire burning better. I cupped my hands on each side of the fire to feel the newly found heat. I enjoyed early peaceful mornings on our scouting trips. Mother Nature and I have always been close, and I am sure if I had been born 150 years earlier, I would have been a mountain man.
It took me a few minutes to get Lane up and moving. Well, perhaps more than just a few, see, he likes to sleep in when we camp. I usually don't mind it much, but this morning we were to scout the old logging road on private land that ran down the fence line on the south side of the property. The road ran parallel to the fence line in a east and west direction. I suspected the bucks and does were moving between the alfalfa field and the river. If they were, we just had to find the spot where they crossed. However, Lane took his usual time to get moving. I had put on a pot of coffee and had two cups before he had made toilet and finally dressed. All he did so far was complain about the cold and how hard the ground had been the night before.
Finally we were at the road and we slowly moved east. The road had not been used in years, but there were still a few old ruts holding water. Here and there you could spot the tracks of a few deer. The sun had broken through the clouds and was starting to shine as I noticed the first clear track that indicated a deer had crossed that morning. Lane, still half a sleep, had stepped on many of the tracks and that made them harder to read. From the depth of the track, as well as the size, it looked like a very healthy buck had crossed the road a little before we had walked down the trail.
As we reach about them mid point of the road, I saw a doe standing off to the right, in some trees. I am always fascinated by watching deer and this day was no exception. There is, to me anyway, something magical about seeing wild game in the woods. I don't have to be hunting to enjoy myself. I stood watching the doe, expecting her tail to twitch up and for her to bounce off, but it did not happen for a while. We were down wind, and stood motionless, so I guess she was unable to detect us. Or at least she was unsure of what we were, until I heard Lane say, “Come on, I don't wanna spend all day looking a doe.” At the first sound of his voice the doe was gone.
The morning, then the day, passed too quickly in my mind and it was soon evening. It had been a productive day. We had discovered where the deer were crossing and I placed a few lines of sewing thread across a couple of trials to see if the deer were moving at night. I wanted to know what was happening in the area. Lane had laughed at me and turned in to bed early.
The following morning I decided to sleep in and heard Lane get up, dress and leave the campsite while it was still dark. I knew he was going to put up his tree stand. I slept a few more hours, got up and had breakfast. I then walked out into the bush and checked the thread I had placed the night before. Deer, a lot of them from the tracks, had been on the trail since I had set the thread. I had an idea now where the deer were moving. I did not reset the thread then, but decided I would reset it a hour before dark. I could check it after dark to see it they were moving through the area at dusk too.
It must have been near noon when Lane returned. He was hungry and over a noon meal of beans and franks he told me of his home in the tree. From what he told me, Tarzan would have been jealous. He had a plywood floor, railing, a bench that ran 360 degrees around the stand, and a gently sloping full roof. He even had a spot picked out for his portable heater, his radio (he used earphones), and place to hang his lunch box. As soon as he had eaten we walk out and took at look. I must say, it was, well, different.
We spent the next few months scouting the area and were both very excited when deer gun season rolled around. The day before the big day, we arrived at our usual campsite with my jeep filled with gear, most of which belonged to Lane. Since we had a little time before dark, I walked to my tree and stuck a reinforced cut piece of plywood in the V of a big oak tree. That and my safety harness would be the whole tree stand. Lane, however, was bend over carrying all of his gear to this stand. I had dinner done by the time Lane returned that evening.
An hour before sunrise we were both in our tree stands. I leaned against the old oak and listened to the early morning sounds as the surrounding woods came awake. At one point I spotted a red fox crossing the road about one hundred feet east of my stand. I always enjoyed this part of the hunt. It was as if the time of the day and the silence gave a man time to think and relax. I took a glance at my watch and noticed deer season had officially opened ten minutes earlier. The sun was peaking over the distant hills and I could see very clearly. It was at that exact moment I noticed a deer moving toward my stand.
I can never figure out how they do it, but deer seem to “just appear” at times. I suspect it is due to the human mind and eyes always moving and we just done see them. But, nonetheless, a nice buck was coming in my direction and regardless of the number of years I have hunted, I still get excited. I didn't raise my rifle or even move. I wanted him to get in close. It seemed to take hours for him to slowly move to within about fifty feet of my stand. As I watched his head lower, I slowly raised my rifle and fired.
I was not the least bit surprised to see the deer jump and then run off toward a group of trees. I placed my rifle on safety and got down out of the tree. It was then I heard Lane running up to my stand.
“Did you get one?” He asked with his eyes dancing with excitement.
“Yep, he's in that group of trees over there.” I said as I pointed off in the direction the buck had gone.
“Let's go get ‘em.” Lance said in a loud voice and he looked off toward where I had pointed.
“Nope. First I am going to have a cup of coffee and then we might go.” I spoke as I pulled my thermos out of my butt pack and unscrewed the cup.
“Are you crazy! He'll get away. You'll have to track him all day!”
“Nope, Lane, I got him with a solid hit. Let's give him time to bleed a bit and find a spot where he thinks he is safe. We rush on him now and his adrenaline will kick in and we will make a mess of it. Let's let his stiffen up a bit and bleed.” I pour the steaming coffee in the cup and took a drink as soon as I had spoken. Lane, like many hunters, did not agree with my plan.
The next twenty minutes were filled with silence and constant shakes of Lane's head. I guess he thought I had lost my mind. But, I knew from hunting as a youth, if I just let that old buck alone, he would not go far. Finally, I recapped my thermos and moved off toward the trees. Lane, with his rifle at the ready, looked like the military man he was. Only, it was just like I had said, the deer didn't go far. We found the buck dead, under the low limbs of a tree, maybe 100 feet from my stand.
I continued to hunt with Lane for a few more years and skunked him all but one year. I only know of him filling his tag once, the last year we hunted together. At least I suspect it was a deer, but it was awfully small. I spent years attempting to teach Lane to enjoy nature, to spend a great deal of time knowing his hunting area, to scout as often as he could, and to disturb the natural surroundings as little as possible. Well, my lessons never did really take fruit. Hunting is challenge for most of us to a degree, but a lot of it is just plain common sense and doing you homework. You can't pass any test if you don't study for it, and I view hunting as a test. So, do you homework, study hard and I will see you at the check in station!
