The Story of Deer Number Nine (A Note To My Beloved)

[Near the bottom of this post is a picture of a harvested deer]

This deer hunting season, my ninth, was a season of hard won lessons. And in the end, the biggest lesson is to do things differently next year.

To be honest, there was much I did not enjoy about the season. There were warm days in October when gnats and mosquitos were a frequent nuisance. There were long hours sitting in makeshift stands that lack creature comforts, leaving me stiff and sore.  There was the usual disappointment of failed hunts. In many cases I saw zero deer through hours on the stand. Perhaps even worse were the various occasions when a deer spied me before I even had a chance to aim, and scurried off or stayed out of range. 

The Long Season

By the metric of hours sitting in the deer stand, this was almost certainly the longest hunting season I've experienced. I started off keeping a record, but the exercise of cataloging failed hunts was simply too discouraging.

There were additional reasons to be discouraged. I've seen precious few deer on the 30 or so times I've hunted. On only four of those hunts did I see any that were even marginally within range. On three of those four my poor job of concealment gave me away and the deer spooked. Twice the spooked deer was a small buck that I coveted.

Chasing Ghosts: Another Hunt Story

A biologist might describe a deer as a hooved ruminant. She'd be wrong.

Deer are ghosts.

They materialize in the forest out of thin air, then disappear in an instant.

They crash loudly through the trees just a few feet away without ever coming into view.

They emerge from unexpected places, offering a fleeting glimpse, leaving you wondering if you really saw anything.

They will haunt you with their absence for days, and then suddenly a gang of them will sneak up behind you.

This year I started hunting on the 19th of October, and for two weeks I sat in the woods every chance I got. An hour hear and there, a few mornings, mostly afternoons. Oftentimes I'd get home from work with just enough daylight left to sit in my stand for 45 minutes or so, keenly alert for the footsteps of a deer. Keenly alert. There was a time or two I nodded off. Several times. But in between naps I was keenly alert.

The Buck

Almost exactly a year ago, I made a grand pronouncement here that I am not a trophy hunter. It's only fitting that today I report the harvest of my first trophy.

Grand pronouncements notwithstanding, I'm not hating the feeling.

This is my sixth hunting season, and before this year I had only harvested does, save for one small button buck (i.e. a buck whose antlers were mere buttons on top of his head).

Many deer hunters sit in tall tree stands, or even what could be described as miniature cabins, well out of the sight line of their quarry, and with high powered rifles that can take a deer from some distance. I, on the other hand, prefer to be no more than six or eight feet off the ground, fully exposed, and with a gun that could be described as "distance challenged". I do this because I seek a more pure experience, truer to the concept of fair chase, giving my prey more equal footing in the epic struggle between hunter and hunted.

I Am Not a Trophy Hunter

I have absolutely nothing against deer hunters who wait for the big buck, but I am not a trophy hunter. This season, like the four before, I sought only some meat for the freezer.

The season had gotten off to a painfully slow start. After nine hunts, I had seen a total of (wait, let me check my records) approximately one gray squirrel and zero deer. Approximately.

But this evening was different. I was in a new location, near a stream and some oak trees with a good acorn crop. As I settled into my spot, I could hear the squirrels loudly scurrying through the leaves in the woods behind me. They continued their antics for nearly an hour.

In the thick woods I hunt, I see as much with my ears as my eyes. The sights and sounds of the woods can be surprising when you let yourself settle in and become part. The wing-swoosh of a bird passing close by, the "chirp-meow" of some unseen creature. Even trees swaying in the wind take on a new tone. I was listening closely for the footfalls of a deer.

Deer Hunting on a Budget

One of the fun things about a new hobby is all the gear you get to buy. But when I took up hunting three years ago, I set an arbitrary goal of minimizing my costs. Here's how I did it.

First, my shooting stick. I chose a single shot 20 gauge shotgun.

OK, are you back now? 'Cause I know you've been rolling on the floor laughing.

I'm no firearms expert, but I suspect this is the least powerful/capable gun you could buy and still reliably bring down a deer. Ninety-six bucks from the friendly local pawn shop.

The Short Season

All summer long "Put deer stand in shed" has been on my to-do list. Using my normal super efficient methods, I ignored that item long enough that I saved myself the time-consuming hassle of writing "Put deer stand in woods" on my list this fall. I may have ignored a few other items on the list as well, but I'm not sure my efficiency model is going to work with "clean the gutters." I'll get back to you.

This is my fourth hunting season, and I'm beginning to find a routine.

Chronicle of the Hunt 2014

[Because "chronicle" sounds more impressive than "story"]

When people ask what kind of shooting stick I use, I'm always a bit embarrassed to admit it's a 20-gauge single shot. Most people hunt deer with a high-powered rifle, which gives them probably three times the range. A good friend jokes that I should get a gun that will shoot further than I can spit. But today I put another deer on the ground, my third. It was a big doe (in my eyes, anyway) and fulfills my goal of getting one deer each year. It will be enough for plenty of green bean casseroles, chili soups and home-made pizzas.

My choice was largely driven by economics and simplicity. Even new, it's a sub-$150 gun (mine was less, from a pawn shop). I've got one shot, I want it to count, and I won't pull the trigger if I'm in doubt. I also love that I can break it open, making it obviously safe, no fiddling or searching for a safety button. Perfect for a newbie like me. Yes, it's got limited range, but my hunting grounds are thickly wooded. I've also come to learn how stand placement can make a big difference. I've gotten comfortable with it; holding, aiming and firing are natural, automatic. All that being said, I am not prepared to rule out graduating to something more substantial at some point.

Venison Green Bean Casserole

Here's how to make the famous family recipe. It's a nice "one-dish" meal.

First, obtain the appropriate license or permit for your area.

Next, sit in the woods with a gun, bow, or other legal weapon for countless hours and wait for a deer to walk by. Click here or here to see what's that's like.

Alternatively, drive to a grocery store and buy the ground meat of your choice (turkey and beef work well, as does pork sausage).

Second Season

This is my second season deer hunting and here's the big lesson: hunting is complicated.

By any conventional measure (antler size, pounds of meat, number of deer), my season could barely scrape the bottom rung of mediocre. I harvested a single deer, a small button buck (picture below).

I've also spent many more hours sitting in the woods than I had planned. My goal was to get one decent-sized deer for the freezer. Had it happened in the first 15 minutes of opening day, I would have happily moved on to other tasks, like cutting firewood or sitting in a boat waiting for a fish to bite. I foolishly thought, with one season under my belt, this one would be easier. But on many days the overriding feeling was frustration.

I've seen dozens of deer. But they have always seen me first, or come from behind, or been way out of range. I have come to terms with the randomness of deer movement. I pick a spot in the woods to sit, and imagine them approaching from a certain direction. Without fail, they approach from a another. On one occasion, a deer spotted me just across the property line and froze, staring at me for a good five minutes. On another, as a large herd passed behind me, one of the deer spied me and stood stomping the ground for several minutes, easily within range if I had just been facing the other way. There were several days I saw nothing. Frustrating.

Granted, I've placed some self-imposed limits on my opportunities. My shooting stick is a 20 gauge shotgun, single shot. I have two home-made stands, the tallest reaching a mere 8 feet off the ground. My landowner permit allows me only to hunt my own farm. I've yet to buy a bag of corn.

Still and quiet in the woods: On becoming a deer hunter

On November 21st, at about 5 pm, this forty-something former vegetarian killed his first deer.

I was sitting in a homemade stand next to the driveway. Something appeared on the right in my peripheral vision, and at first I thought it might be a dog or fox.

It was a mature doe, and after many hours sitting in the woods, still and quiet, it was the first deer to come within range of my 20 gauge single shot.

She was crossing the yard, as they often do, and stopped to nibble some tasty weed. I raised my gun partway and she lifted her head. I froze. I think she saw me, but she didn't bolt. I raised my gun the rest of the way, and the movement must have convinced her it was time to leave. But she didn't run, just walked purposefully toward the woods.

Was she really in range? Yes, I thought so, based on many practice shots and lots of advice from my mentors.

I had a good shot, and was thankful for the practice rounds and the shooting lesson from a trusted friend. The mechanics of aiming felt natural.

I hesitated and my hand trembled. Was I really going to shoot to kill this majestic animal standing in front of me?

Ultimately, I knew in my heart and head that my path to this moment was long and intentional. I pulled the trigger.