The earth moved

Every day after the Sun starts its journey south and the leaves are just the right shade of red, yellow, and orange we make our way to hunting blinds and tree stands with hope in our hearts and a smile etched on our faces.  We venture into the wild places of almost every state in America and several countries to match wits with the elusive white tail deer.

Some of us stay just a short time in the corn fields, cedar thickets, and hard woods when Lady Luck aids in our quest and others stay a bit longer.  We’ve devised a never ending array of ways and weapons to pursue this iconic creature.  Some methods reach back ten thousand years or more yet others are as new as your last visit to your favorite sporting goods store.

We buy mechanical calls, and ones that you blow, scents from doe in estrus to scents that make us invisible to everything but the deer.  Decoys that look like so many different animals it’s hard to keep track without a score card, and thousand of patterns of camo clothing to conceal us from eyes that see a hundred times better than our own.   

I can’t think of another animal we spend as much time, energy, and money on than the white tail deer.  For me, it’s worth every minute, dollar, and freezing morning to just steal a glimpse of this magical creature.

After almost a nine month wait it was at last opening day of deer season.  I as well as the other four hunters that share a thousand acre lease just eight miles south of Lampasas, TX were finally and safely tucked in deer blinds and tree stands on that early November morning.  We all had ventured, well before dawn, into the realm of the white tail deer with high hopes that when evening came we would have wonderful stories and maybe even an antler or two to share with good friends over a blazing fire.

The deer blind that I was hunting that morning was 156 yards east of a ravine that served as a corridor for deer traveling the entire length of the lease.  The autumn proved to be wetter than normal so the creek that over the past millennium cut the ravine the entire length of the deer lease was now full of flowing water.  

The wet fall meant two things first if you were going to cross the ravine you better have a 4wheel drive vehicle.  Second, and more importantly, the deer would most likely travel on either side of the ravine making them visible from my stand. 

Early November in central Texas also meant that magical time for deer and hunter alike, the rut.  Bucks would be chasing does with abandon.  During this testosterone driven period bucks give up food, rest, and polite societal behavior for sex, a little like most of our college days.  If you hunt white tail deer then the rut is a gift to be cherished and hunted regardless of weather, daughter’s births, or wedding anniversaries. Well, maybe not all of that but perhaps you could sneak out right before dessert. 

If you put in the time during the rut odds are you’ll be successful and I had nothing but time.  Rut is also that special time we use a lot of the thousands of dollars worth of calls, scents, and decoys we’ve filled the garage with.

I had buck grunts, an effeminate buck grunt (just in case), “doe bleats cans” in a half dozen sizes, rattling antlers, and a Mel Torme record.  The stage was set. 

Being the first day of deer season I’d arrived at my stand well before dawn.  I went through the check list of things I needed to do and things I hope I had with me.  I loaded my rifle quietly, searched my backpack for binoculars and a range finder.  Why is it that no matter how dark it is when we first pick up a pair of binoculars or a range finder we look through them?   

I put the buck grunt around my neck and placed a doe in estrus “can” on the shelf of the blind.  All was at the ready and since it would be a couple of hours before shooting light the only thing left to do was take a nap.  I’ve always enjoyed getting into the stands early, it gives you a chance to relax and plan your morning.  I do this with my eyes closed of course.   

The next hour or so I accomplished my goals of planning my morning and making sure I had no holes in my eye lids.

According to the local paper shooting light happened at 6:22 AM, exactly one half hour before sun rise.  What a delightful time of day, I’m positive that hunters’ young and old the entire length and breadth of the central time zone did a little happy dance as 6:22 AM approached. 

After three encores’ of my happy dance it was time to get down to the business of inviting a Moe’ Grande white tail buck to join me for some quality time on my office wall.

My binoculars hadn’t strayed from my eyes for the last half hour when I noticed movement coming from my right.  I lowered the binoculars to see what it was then quickly they were back at my eyes as a large 10 point buck trotted south on this side of the water filled ravine.

I went into stopping mode, with doe bleats and anything else I could think of.  The buck had something else on his mind as he kept on running south.  My heart sank as he trotted out of sight.  I was just ready to start to cry when I notice a head with large antlers sticking out from behind a bush. 

I slowly reach for my rifle and tried to stick it through the window of the blind without alerting all of Burnett County, TX.  There are times when I wished my eyes worked independently of one another.  You can’t put a rifle through a small window without making any noise and watch a deer at the same time. 

I realize this buck only stopped to see if the doe he heard was ready for some lovin.  If he didn’t get a better response he’d be on his merry way.  My problem was that my hands were full of rifle and not a doe bleat can.  If I had ten more seconds and he didn’t mind a rifle pointed at him I might get a shot off.  Those are some pretty big “ifs”.   

Over many years of hunting you come up with little tricks that contribute to your success.  One of these is, I take a seven or eight inch piece of pipe insulation and cut it length wise and then cut a little notch on the opposite side at the end to fit over the forearm of my rifle.  This cuts down the noise of placing the rifle on anything used as a gun rest and saves the finish as well. 

When I finally got the rifle through the window the buck was a little edgy so the speed of any movement was measured by the life span of the Red Wood trees.

I could tell the buck was ready to bolt.  I quickly put the rifle to my shoulder and cheek.  Once I felt the rifle settle into the proper position I started to squeeze the trigger.  

One of the joys of life is when the concert of report, recoil, and movement comes together when you shoot a firearm correctly.  Since I have a propensity for the obvious, magnum rifles amplify this joy and my 257 Weatherby magnum doesn’t disappoint.  

 When I was able to get the rifle back to the original position the scope was empty.  Not much of a surprise a lot of times the animal has bolted or dropped but this time I watched the buck run north.  Funny, he didn’t display any of the signs you look for in a runaway animal.  No confusion in direction, all of his limbs were working in concert, and most importantly no tell tale signs of blood. 

My heart sank and my head dropped, could I’ve missed this wall hanger?There is only one way to find out, find a blood trail.  I spent the next hour and a half looking for a blood trail that simply wasn’t there.  I missed.  I don’t know what happened, maybe I pulled instead of squeezing, or perhaps I flinched.  Maybe I saw those antlers on my wall before I saw him on the ground.  Maybe the Earth moved under me.

Everybody misses, for any number of reasons but the bottom line is; hunt long enough and you too will miss.   

I’ve now had a week to think about that magnificent animal and tomorrow morning before dawn I’ll be there in the same stand.