The Late Season Hunt

A bit of fiction.

Sitting in stand day-in, day-out during the rifle season can be tough, especially as a hunter gets “picky” about the shots he desires. Tough doesn’t begin to explain it when, as the last day of “gun” season expires, so does the hunters buck tag. 

However, all hope is not lost, and it is important to realize that opportunities still exist to fill a buck tag.  Late season hunting signals continued change: change in the weather, change in daylight and change in deer activity.

One of the warmest days I've ever had on a stand was also one of the coldest.  Late in the day--a day full of wind, sleet and occasionally snow--a small reprieve in the weather provides opportunity.  With most hope lost and on the verge of hanging it up for the season, the snap of a twig and rustle of leaves warms me so quick that I begin to sweat.  Coming out of the thick bedding brush, the heavy 10-pointer casually strolls toward the food source.  Although wary, he seems at ease like he knows that most of the pursuers that dogged him a month ago are at home in their recliners watching deer hunting TV.  While the weather has been poor, he has been holed up in some thick brush biding his time and now he is ready to dine.  Hunger trumps fear it would seem. 

I notice that he is utilizing a well-established trail, one with many scrapes and rubs along it’s historical line, one that has seen many a rut.  Today he does not visit the scrapes nor pause to rub his antlers on a tree, following a season of fighting his skull is sore and he is tired of inflicting new damage on his once perfect rack that is now scattered with cracks and chips.  Although he never ignores his nose, it is apparent that he is not significantly concerned with scent.  He pauses periodically to test the air but never bends his head to sniff the ground, apparently he just isn’t interested or none of the doe are entering into the fabled second rut.

As he meanders down the trail I realize my breathing has become less controlled and my heart is pounding so hard, I can scarcely believe he cannot hear it.  In about 20 feet he will walk directly downwind of my scent and the game will be up.  Raising my bow and focusing my will I place the pin on his shoulder and begin following his walk, just as I am about to give him a “bleat” he pauses and turns his head to investigate a rustling in the breeze, my arrow is released and flies true.....


It feels absolutely tropical in these woods at the moment.