They came at dusk, as quiet as cats.
I hadn't waited long -- a couple of hours at most -- and I was one squeeze away from bagging my third deer of the season.
My hunting pace this year has been very casual, but I've seen more action than usual. I think it's because I hunt smarter than before. Hunting smart is more productive than hunting hard. Being at the right place at the right time is a lot better than being in the right place at the wrong time most of the time.
I used to pass dull hours in a stand writing on a laptop, but that doesn't work very well.
If you are truly hunting, your eyes, ears and nose are immersed in the woods. You can read a book or in snatches or work bits of a crossword puzzle, but you are always aware.
If you are truly writing, you are oblivious to everything around you.
Experience and remote cameras have taught me that deer visit all of my stands early in the morning or late in the evening. I've also learned to trust the solunar tables published Thursday and Sunday on the Outdoors page in the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. Tuesday showed a minor activity peak at 6:05 a.m., a major activity peak at noon-25 and another minor activity peak at 6:40 p.m.
Instinct told me to skip the morning shift, and deer don't visit my stands in the middle of the day, so that nixed the major peak. I see the most deer in the evenings, so that minor peak in the evening should be just right.
I entered the woods about 3:20 p.m. and checked the feeders at my two primary stands. My feeders throw corn at about 8 a.m. and at 4:45 p.m. All of the morning corn at both feeders was still on the ground, so deer had not visited during the day.
Settling into the chair inside my popup, I surveyed the landscape. Deer usually enter this area from a brushy draw to the left. They follow the draw and then angle up the hill and approach the feeder from the south.
My tower stand is about 120 yards to the south, with a garish red panel that glows like a lighthouse. Oddly, deer ignore the tower, but they are wary of the pop-up, even though it has been in place for three years and is covered with brush.
I only hunt it when I need to be really close to deer, like when hunting with a crossbow or an unscoped firearm. Tuesday was a specialty hunt. I intended to kill a deer with my Henry lever-action rifle chambered in .41 Remington Magnum. It has no scope, but I am accurate at 50 yards. The feeder is about 30 yards away.
With nothing else to do, I napped lightly while waiting for deer to arrive.
My chair has become a liability. It's old, and the fabric has lost its suppleness. Whenever I recline or lean forward, the fabric pops and the joints creak. That could cost me an opportunity in such close quarters. I must move as slowly as cold 20W-50 oil.
By dusk I had transitioned out of predatory mode, but a subtle noise steeled my wandering ming. It was a grunt, a buck grunt.
In the fading light I saw a dark, bulky shape ghosting through the brush. It was a buck, but how big? It disappeared down the draw, but a buck appeared in front of the feeder a few minutes later. It was a young deer that had two long spikes on both sides, almost like double main beams. That will be an interesting rack in three or four more years, but I don't think it was the same buck I saw in the draw.
Another deer appeared, and then another. Except for the spike, they were all obscured by tall grass between me and the feeder. Five more steps to the left, and I'd have a clear shot.
The deer were edgy, but not exactly spooky. They sensed something amiss and milled around nervously, scarcely pausing to nibble corn.
Nevertheless, none presented a clear view, and I was powerless to do anything but watch.
When it was thoroughly dark I unzipped the flap. The deer fled and did not see me emerge from the blind.
I crouched and slipped out of the thicket, quiet as a cat.
Sports on 12/10/2017