I could see the frosty earth twinkling in the beam of my flashlight as I crept toward my ladder stand overlooking the Gas Well Plot. It was the kind of morning a seasoned bowhunter yearns for. It was cold with a light but steady wind to keep the scent cone narrow, but not so cold or breezy that it was uncomfortable. It was the kind of morning that just exuded fall and archery deer season.
I climbed into the creaky stand that’s attached to a large white pine and quickly got my camera gear set up and my bow armed and hung on its hanger. I took note of the brightening sky to my left and I knew shooting light would come quickly on this clear morning. Just about the time I figured I could see to shoot, I looked into the plot and saw a single deer standing not more than 30 yards in front of me. “Where did you come from?,” I muttered to myself as I reached for my binoculars. I could already tell it was a buck, but the encounter was so instant I couldn’t immediately tell if it was one I might consider shooting.
Once I had the deer in my sights I quickly determined him to be an 8-point with good symmetry and a respectable spread. While not the kind of buck that just screams shooter when you see it, he offered enough to earn my full attention. I’ve always felt that bucks look a little bigger in low light, and this was no exception. I studied him closely as he moved from my left to right and toward the small pine that serves as an annual licking branch. The young buck did the types of things bucks do this time of year. With the echo of coyotes howling in the background, the buck began working over the low hanging limbs of the pine and at one point stood on his hind legs to spread his scent as high as he could. This performance went on for a couple minutes and included the making of two half-hearted scrapes. While the rut is near, it’s still not time for bucks to take things too seriously and that’s the exact impression this deer made.
Even after all of that, I still wasn’t certain of my intentions. I clenched my chilled bow in my left hand while working my video camera and binoculars with my right. At least twice I prepared for a shot, only to relax to think about it further. Eventually the buck walked to within 15 yards and I got a great look at him. It was obvious by then he was a three year-old, and would have been the smallest racked buck I ever shot at Horseshoe Hills. While I’m not as antler-driven as I was in my younger years, I still prefer to shoot bucks that are at least four years-old and this clearly wasn’t it. Instead I rehung my bow and focused on getting good quality video of the experience.
The deer probably spent five minutes around me offering shot after shot if I wanted to take it. If I had one of my traditional bows I may have, but with my compound I just wasn’t moved to do it. In the end I got a great show and the buck got an opportunity to live another day. Maybe the days will turn into years and our paths will cross again, although by then he’ll have the upper hand. Regardless, on this day he got my adrenaline going and put an exclamation point on what was a great morning to be in the deer woods, and for that I’m grateful.
I didn’t see any other deer, and I didn’t care.