Last weekend was definately the most frustrating weekend of deer season so far. Coming in hot off of some early season success and a few close calls, it was easy to feel cocky. The weekend was humbling. I saw a total of zero deer, but heard at least five as they galloped away snorting in the low light. At least I got to hear deer, right? Sure. Let’s go with that.
For the more experienced deer hunters out there, none of this will come as a shock. October is a notoriously hard month to kill deer for a number of reasons, many of which are hotly debated. Regardless of nocturnal activity, moonphase, and general superstition, most people can agree that October is a month of change. Food sources are changing. Temperatures fluxuate. The woodlands are thinning out. Bucks have lost their velvet, but aren’t quite rutting yet. These factors create a dynamic environment that makes it hard to predict where the deer will be on any given day.
In hindsight, I didn’t exactly set myself up for success last weekend either. I hunted two mornings and one evening. While it was the best I could do while balancing other resposibilities, I’ve come to understand that morning hunts are not very productive at this time of year. (There are exceptions, of course, but generally speaking evening hunts will be more successful). My reasoning to hunt anyways was that “I’m not going to kill deer at home,” and the contrarian part of my brain thinks that I’ll be able make something happen when others can’t. But in reality, most of the people who recommend skipping morning hunts in October have killed more deer than I ever will. I want to kill deer, not just hunt for the sake of hunting. So next early season, I’m going to plan accordingly and prioritize evening hunts.
Alright, here’s a quick story to wrap this up. On Saturday morning, I decided to try and sneak into my spot during during gray light. I wasn’t sure exactly where I wanted to set up, so I thought that sneaking in with a little light would be better than just bumbling around in the dark. It didn’t take me long to remember that there is no sneaking in the Tennessee whitetail woods. Every step sounded like a crash as I crunched through cold deciduous twigs and leaves. Determined, I pressed on, trying my best to mitigate the noise.
Just before reaching an old clear cut, I decided to stop and take a moment to “find my golf ball,” as they say. I was planning to hunt in the timber on the far side of the cut. As soon the first golden drop hit the ground, a deer snorted from the opposite timberline and took off running. I couldn’t see it, but it likely spooked within 70 yards. Surprised, I stood stock still, fly open, listening as the animal ran and snorted for easily half a mile. I don’t know if it was the noise or the extra burst of scent, but the deer wasn’t having it. There’s nothing like getting caught with your pants down to start a hunt off right. It was actually pretty funny, but I didn’t see a single deer in the area after that.
Persistence Outdoors 