I have been watching from a distance as a really nice buck has taken up residence at my place. A person does not see him often, or for very long, but even a glimpse makes the pulse quicken.
I have been very patient and scientific about going after him. I do not consider myself to be a trophy hunter, but I would not pass up the opportunity to get the deer with the largest set of antlers I have ever seen.
He spends his days in an open pasture, punctuated with an occasional cedar tree and rose bush. From his vantage point on a hill, he can see in all directions at least a quarter of a mile. There is no point in going after him out there. Most of the time, a person can not see him, even when looking directly at him, unless he happens to turn his head or flick an ear at just the right time. At night, he moves through the timber to feed in the nearby cornfield and returns to hiding in the open during the day.
By the time a buck gets to be this size, he is five or six years old. He did not live this long by being stupid. I know better than to push him, or try the low crawl for a quarter mile. If I pushed him, he would leave, perhaps not to return. If I crawled for a quarter of a mile, I would not be able to stand up to shoot and may never be able to stand up again.
I have been staying away from his area, trying to pick off a nice eating-sized doe, waiting for the rut to get into full swing. The big bucks become less cautious when they only have one thing on their minds.
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Sunday, the wind was coming from the wrong direction. The mild, southerly breeze would blow human scent directly into the woods I wanted to hunt. Since there was no point in going to my favorite spot, I decided to circle the timber, hunt with the breeze, and perhaps get a shot at the old boy as he moved at sunset.
I crouched behind a large, fallen oak a few yards from the fence, dividing the pasture from the heavy oak and hickory timber. I had a good feeling about this spot. From here, I could shoot both into the woods at deer coming out to eat or into the pasture if they came out above or below my position.
I had been staring in the general direction of the creek for several minutes when my eyes suddenly focused on a deer about 100 yards away. I never saw him move into the area, but he stood unexpectedly where I had been looking. It was him and he did not see me. His antlers spread out wide beyond his ears and long tines pointed upward. Muscles rippled as he stared at something I could not see.
I used my grunt call to issue a challenge, hoping he would come closer looking for a fight. He glanced in my general direction and went back to staring at whatever had his attention. I used my bleat call, trying to mimic a doe in the mood, but he barely gave me a glance. After a few minutes, he walked off in the direction he had been watching, jumped the fence, and was gone into the woods. I know he did not see me or catch wind of my scent, but also know I did not fool him with my calls.
In the next week or two, I hope he drops his guard for just a few minutes. Even if I never get the old gray ghost, being that close to such a magnificent animal is well worth all the effort of the hunt.
Walter Scott is an outdoors enthusiast and freelance writer from Bloomfield, Iowa.
