Dave Beck

I know that the deer gun season has come and gone so this report is late, but in my defense, during deer season there are two conflicting events which are hunting schedules and newspaper deadlines. You probably know what side of the fence I fall on. 

On opening weekend I spent both days, dark-to-dark, in the a primitive enclosed stand known as the “Mouse House.” Calling it enclosed is a bit of a stretch in that it’s riddled with vent holes which act as a critter welcome mat, especially for mice. I’m sure squirrels and racoons have visited often but thankfully they were not around when I crawled into that stand in the predawn darkness. Don’t confuse complaining with reporting. The Mouse House is a great stand in a great place and it does a pretty fair job of blocking the wind. 

Like every other hunter in the state who was sitting in a stand I pictured where a huge buck would come from and where my perfect shot would be. The power of suggestive thinking is strong. Twice I actually saw two huge bucks in the morning darkness. When that dark turned to grey and eventually light, I was disappointed. Both bucks turned out to be the roots and base of uprooted trees.  

When shooting light finally arrived it brought with it the realization that I was alone. There wasn’t a deer within eyesight in any direction. Hopes and thoughts of an early score on a buck faded away just like the morning. It wasn’t until 11 a.m. that my hunt actually felt like a hunt. A couple of shots rang out to the west. They were close enough to pay attention and then I saw them. Four does were running like the wind. Had I not heard the shots first, I would have expected to see a buck pushing them. The does eventually slowed their pace and by the time they got to me they were walking. I eyed them one by one through my scope. It would have been a great shot opportunity for a buck. The does passed safely and ducked into the thick pines. On a guess that is where they would hole up for the rest of the day.

Throughout the afternoon I watched deer slip in and out of a secluded corner of a harvested soybean field. During the gun and muzzleloader season I’m not really into the business of taking a doe. Maybe it’s a Holiday Hunt kind of thing but I was just in it for a buck and guess what? That’s what I saw next. Now I don’t want to be that guy who calls every buck spotted as a 180 incher, so I try to be conservative when I guestimate the size of the rack. He was perfectly symmetrical with both sides of his rack being an actual mirror of the other. If I added the main beams, circumference and spread the buck easily scored 12 inches. By anyone’s standards, it was a helluva two pointer.  

That was about as exciting as it got for me this year. I saw a pile of does but never a forked buck. I have no regrets about giving that little buck a free pass. If I get the chance again, I just might take the shot, in three or four years.

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