The vagaries of a deer hunt

Hunter recounts frustrations, joys of the thrill of the hunt

The 1998 Texas deer season finally opened after a fall that had been particularly hot and dry. It had gotten a bit cooler, but it was not cold.

We had a good camp in Cass County and ate really well, as is usual. I killed a little five-point deer on Sunday morning. Yet, it was as bizarre a morning’s deer hunt as any I had experienced previously.

I had decided to hunt my stand down in the bottoms. It sits just at the bottom of a hill at the edge of a normally dry slough. I had placed that stand in that location a year earlier because there was a deer trail that comes off the hill just south of it.

On this particular Sunday morning, I got on the stand just before daylight. It was still cloudy but not raining as it had done for most of the previous day. Against a gray dawn, I spotted movement southwest of my stand.

There is a fairly good opening in the timber at that point and after a few seconds, I realized that the movement was, in fact, a deer. I tried to look at the deer through the scope but it was still so dark that I could not determine the sex of the deer.

It was moving around erratically, much of the time with it’s nose to the ground. I guessed from that behavior that it was most probably a buck—in less than two minutes it was gone.

I cursed the lack of light and myself for not being more observant. Because of a smaller deer population in that area, during many seasons you only get one chance at buck. I felt I had let my chance slip away. But it was still early.

As is human nature, I began to focus my attention very intently on the area where I had spotted the deer earlier. About thirty minutes had passed since I had seen the first deer.

I was still fuming about not being able to get a shot. I was surprised to hear noise in the water in the slough off to my right. As soon as I looked in that direction, I saw a deer. It was walking across the slough in a westerly direction. Unalarmed, it was just walking slowly. Again, I was having difficulty in determining the sex of the deer. I could only see a leg, an ear and a patch of hair as it walked away.

After a minute or two, the deer stopped, and through a small hole in the brush I saw an antler. It appeared to be a spike buck with 8- to 10-inch spike horns (although I only saw the left side of the head). At that point, I could never get a clear shot at a vital area as the deer walked away. Curses! I cussed myself again. Here I have seen the second buck of the morning and have yet to get off a single shot. I cussed myself for looking in the wrong direction. I told myself that it was just not my day. I was disgusted with myself for being such a pitiful hunter. I looked at my watch, it was 7:30 a.m. I decided to smoke a cigarette as I was concerned that I had already ruined any chance of killing a buck this morning.

After a while, I got thirsty so I reached for my bag to retrieve the diet soda that was put there for this purpose. I got the Coke out of the bag and set it on the edge of the seat beside my right leg.

As I was returning the bag to its place, I knocked the Coke off the seat with my leg. It fell on some dead limbs and exploded.

I said all the cuss words I knew. I cussed my rotten luck, my poor hunting skills and anything else that I could think of. This was definitely not my day.

I was still thirsty and pondering the question of how much longer I was going to stay. I looked at my watch. It was 8 a.m. After four or five minutes had passed, I glanced to my right and immediately spotted movement. It was a deer and not twenty yards from the stand.

It was so close that I would not move my head any further. The deer was walking in a southerly direction, coming along the edge of the slough. As he came more clearly into view, I saw it was a small buck with at least four points.

Having no cover between his path and my stand location, and because he was so close, I had to move really slowly.

When he passed directly in front of me, he was no more than 10 steps away. As slowly as I could, I got my rifle in position to shoot. The deer stopped and looked directly at me for a few seconds.

He jumped and started trotting away. As I got my rifle to my shoulder, I was thinking that I was going to shoot him running. But after about 20 yards, he stopped, turned broadside and looked back at me.

It was too late for him at that point as the crosshairs settled on his shoulder blade. With the shot, he went down in his tracks. I was never more surprised in my hunting experience as I was with the events of that morning.

I am even more convinced that sitting in the woods, in a likely spot, will allow one more time to reap all the rewards that the outdoors has to offer. The solitude, the clouds and the sky, the beauty of the woods, the small animals and birds. With all the emotions that a hunt has to put you through, how could anyone not like hunting?