Over the holidays I bumped into an old high school friend, and true to form for a couple of guys who love the outdoors and also have young families, we began sharing memories of outdoor activities.

Living in Montana, Jon has had the opportunity to hunt elk in the same manner we hunt pheasants or ducks, and his kids are right there with him. His eyes sparkled like the ripples on an early-morning lake when he proudly relayed how his daughter, on an outing back in North Dakota, had bagged her first pheasant. “And my dad was along, too.”

This had special meaning to me as well, since Jon’s dad is Mr. Stites, one of my high school math teachers.

For a kid needing a solid math and science background – when even in high school  a “C” in math was an “A” in my book – Mr. Stites had a way of making sure I was armed with the knowledge and skills to survive college statistics, calculus and trigonometry. All with a “C” for good measure. But I made it.

And from the sounds of it, Jon was working on the honor roll of the outdoors. The tone of his voice and the excitement in his explanations were a testament to family ties created through outdoor adventure.

While the conversation was merely minutes, it felt like hours as we shared stories back and forth, between bites of a manhandler pizza. Weeks later, on one of my many winter drives with no purpose other than just making sure it’s all still out there, I replayed that conversation and marveled at the role the outdoors plays not only in our lives, but the lives of many current and former North Dakota residents.

All this occurred at roughly the same time I passed the mark of four decades on earth, and quite frankly I’m not sure whether to grasp the philosophy that “age is just a number,” or “you’re only as old as you feel.”

Either way, heading toward half-a decade is kind of like getting a new gadget figured out. Once you know how it works, you can enjoy it a little more rather than struggling to figure it out.

We all face our own struggles, and with a little thought you realize it’s relative to each individual. There’s always someone doing better than you, and others not doing as well. The outdoors sometimes is a place to gain perspective, think through tough decisions and internally reboot our system.

Upon returning home from that drive, I wrote a Jon note and thanked him for the conversation and the privilege of meeting his family. It’s reassuring to know that while pursuit of a trophy elk, a limit of ducks or a lunker walleye can be part of the outdoors, for most of us there’s more to it than that.

Time spent with family and friends, and little things like simply breathing fresh air or hearing the call of spring’s first meadowlark, are just as significant.

I’ve known for years that we would all do well to share the outdoors with a friend, child or neighbor who’s never experienced it. Somewhere along the line they’ll thank you for the memories of outdoor activities.

And besides, when life sends you a curve, have you ever heard anyone say, “I just need to watch some TV or play a video game?”

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I live in a great neighborhood. While most people think their neighborhood is the best, I know mine is.

I’m not trying to pick a fight, but it’s the best I could ask for, with a mixture of ages and backgrounds probably not much different than many neighborhoods in the state.

When I stop and ponder for a moment, I have to go a few houses each direction to find a home without a hunter or angler in it. That’s probably not much different than the rest of the Midwest, as our heritage includes not just Germans and Scandinavians or Lutherans and Catholics. We also hunt, fish or do both.

The next time you’re visiting with your neighbors, ask them where they hunt. For instance, I know Gordy, his son, grandsons and friends will again travel to hunt around Cooperstown. Brad drew a mule deer tag and is setting his sights on the badlands, but not before he’s bow hunted in the Red River Valley.

Cole is a Mitchell, SD native and he’ll also head home to South Dakota for a deer hunt in the Black Hills, but drew a North Dakota license as well. Across the street James is originally from Milbank, SD but enjoys North Dakota deer hunting with a 4C mule his preference. He didn’t draw but secured a 2B antlerless license.

My neighbor Darwin grew up near Streeter, but has hunted deer between Jamestown and Valley City for a few decades.

Ellerd is retired, but just rejoined the ranks of North Dakota deer hunters a few years ago, after decades away. The extended opportunities in his home area of Edmore, along with urging from a friend, piqued his interest and he plans to return again this fall as well.

I can’t forget Delbert. He might be the oldest neighbor -closer to 80 than 70- but you’d never guess it and I would bet even with a new knee he could keep up the pace with most hunters. His deer hunts are squeezed in between medical equipment and building a plane.

Opening Friday a couple years back he rang me up on the phone after oh-dark thirty looking for some tips on a new spot to hunt. Begrudgingly, he’s not taking part this year, but “maybe” next year.

Believe it or not, this short unofficial survey didn’t take me more than a half a block from my front sidewalk, yet these hunters will fan out across North Dakota and other states for their favorite deer hunting destination.

Over the course of weeks we’ll exchange stories from different corners, but all with a common theme of deer hunting. Unlike discussing your favorite football team, there will be no losers.

Evening visits to the neighbor’s garage – secretly checking to see if anyone has a big buck – are a must, followed by the obligatory swapping of processing plans for jerky, sausage or burger, and there’s a pretty good chance a new recipe will generate some interest.

Where else does deer bacon come from but a group of hunters boning out the strip meat from the rib cage and frying it up in bacon.

While some will lament missed shots or “this close” opportunities that disappeared with the twitch of a tail, the give and take, laughter and neighborhood friendships grow each year, even though we may never spend a day walking the same field.

Leier is a biologist with the Game & Fish Department. He can be reached by email:dleier@nd.gov

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Last year I joined my husband at the archery range with my new Mathews Mission compound bow.  I hadn’t really planned on hunting until I used a judo point on a gopher!  Now, there is disagreement on whether I actually hit it or not but that gopher did not show up anymore when I was around!  I started watching hunting shows and a tree stand actually looked quite peaceful – no beepers or phone calls or people wanting something – just the hunter and the hunt.  I’ve always been able to lay and stare at the clouds without being bored so I thought this was the activity for me!   A ladder tree stand was purchased and set up only 10 feet high to see how I would navigate that.  A co-worker suggested I would be safer in a ground blind – but what fun is that?

The first evening of opening weekend was 85 degrees but I was determined to hunt. In full camo, I cautiously climbed up the ladder.  The first 30 minutes was filled with my heart pounding so loud, I barely heard the sounds of the woods.  The tree was the prescribed 12 inches in diameter but the swaying of the tree in the wind took some getting used to.  It ended up to be quite a comforting feeling – like the rocking of a boat or the swaying of a dance.  It was an intimate connection between the tree, the wind, and me.

As my heart rate and breathing stabilized back to normal, the sights and sounds of the woods became apparent and I was in awe.  The sky was a vibrant blue as seen through the green tree tops.  The sunlight played off the leaves and I could actually see sunbeams streaking down through the woods.  I saw birds flitting from tree to tree and squirrels were busy playing tag, chattering and not paying any attention to me!  Between the squirrels and chipmunks noise along with the creaking of trees, turkey and pheasant calls, the woods were certainly not as quiet as I had imagined.

Four hours later, as night began to fall; I noted the fading streaks of light were illuminating spider webs all around me that I wasn’t able to see before.  The birds quieted and were replaced by an occasional owl hoot.  A hawk was hunting also with his wing spread almost touching each side of the tree row as he flew toward me and his prey.  The sights and sounds up to this point were so incredible; I had almost forgotten I was hunting white tail.  It was then that I heard a sound I’ve come to love –  branches ever so gently breaking behind me. A doe very tentatively was walking down the tree row toward me stopping to munch on grass and acorns.  I was amazed at how slowly she walked and how unafraid she was.  When she was directly under my tree, she casually looked up and we locked eyes.  I was holding my breath her previous 10 steps but I wasn’t going to breathe now!  She seemed curious but not afraid.  She then moved out into the clearing that was planned to be the target site with both 15 yards and 20 yards scoped out with the range finder.   At 15 yards and her standing broadside, she again looked up at me and we dared the other to move.  I was calm and didn’t feel ‘buck fever’ or the ‘bambi syndrome’ but was ready to end this life.   However, at this point, I realized that I should have drawn my bow prior to her turning broadside and looking back at me.  I smiled and let her walk away.  As night continued to fall upon the woods, another doe walked out and just as casually walked by stopping frequently to munch on leaves and look around.  With the fading light, a chorus of coyotes filled the woods as they celebrated the rising full harvest moon.  By this time, the official time had passed to be able to hunt~ but I was quite mesmerized and not anxious to leave even though it had now been 5 ½ hours.  I always thought the woods went to sleep at night, but nay, it was just waking up.

Soon after, I experienced a morning hunt when we made our way to my tree stand in the pitch dark using only a bobbing flashlight.  Once settled in the tree stand, I was again amazed at the noises of the night.  I tried to pick out the sounds or smells as I had absolutely no sight.  The leaves right in front of me were not visible.  Two sounds I briefly thought of and hoped would not hear in this ND woods was the hiss of a mountain lion or the growl of a bear – as they both would certainly know I was there and do climb trees!   It was awesome as the reverse sights and sounds now happened with the owl hoots being replaced by song birds and ever so slightly the world coming into view again with the rising of the sun.                  If any female is considering hunting from a tree stand, I would wholeheartedly encourage them to try it!  They will never see the woods the same!

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As sundown approached one evening, I heard a loud series of crashes in the ten acres of old elms behind me. The repeated footsteps thrashing the leaves and twigs were far more aggressive than those of the doe and fawn that had crept out of the trees a half hour earlier to the east of my ladder stand. I knew without a doubt that the two animals charging and grunting in the woods behind me were bucks, and they were starting to get in the spirit of the season.
After listening to the back-and-forth for a while, the stereo sound of aggression was replaced by just the heavy breathing and stamping of one buck. His opponent had apparently run off, tired of the game. With time growing short in the evening, I pulled out my grunt call and figured I had nothing to lose by trying it out on an actual buck for the first time. Still a neophyte when it came to deer hunting, I didn’t know exactly what to do, so I inhaled and released a gentle “errrp, errrp” on the call, expecting the deer to run off in the other direction.
But instead, the woods behind me sounded with approaching footsteps and crackling leaves as the remaining animal made its way in my direction. After a few moments of silence, I blew into the wood receiver of the call again, this time releasing a trio of grunts, angled back into the trees over my shoulder, “errrp, errrp, errrp.”
The leaf litter crackled and the deer moved closer, this time the footsteps were purposeful, aggressive and quick, followed by a “WHUMP!” of the deer’s hoof stomping the earth about 40 yards behind me. The still and humid air transmitted the heavy breathing of the creature through the barrier of brush and fallen trees, and a shiver went up my spine. The deer’s inhale and exhale matched the cadence of my breathing, and with a rapidly accelerating pulse, I pondered my next move hoping all the while that the thumping of my heart wouldn’t give my position away. After a couple of minutes of listening to the buck, I raised the call to my lips again and decided to up the ante.
“URRP!! URRP!!” I blew out on the tube with greater force and passion, as if to throw down the gauntlet, letting him know that while he may have run off the other buck in the grove, he had yet to muster the courage to face me, his unseen challenger.
His response was a wild rush through the trees, just to the edge of the densest cover on the border of the clearing, leaving him still invisible in the late season foliage behind my stand. His breathing was heavy, his hoof slammed the ground repeatedly and then the evening was still. There was no follow-up foot stomp or crackle of leaf litter, even the breathing of the buck which had been so audible just moments before, had faded into silence.
It reminded me of those horror flicks, right at the beginning where the director does his best to set the stage for the terror to come in the rest of the film. The camera slowly creeps down the darkened hallway toward the unsuspecting person, giving the viewer the feeling that something is stalking up to its prey in the shadows. But as the camera rushes in over the last several feet and the would-be victim turns around and you’re certain there’s some horrible black monster ready to pounce – there’s nothing!
There were no footsteps leading away from brush on the edge of the clearing, no grunts of disapproval, no snorts of alarm, just complete and utter silence. All audible evidence, along with what by that point was certainly a suspicious buck, vanished into the slight fog rising up from the nearby lake, leaving no listening trail to follow as he disappeared into the coming night. I strained my ears for a long time, trying to make out any noise that might signal where the deer had gone, but from the time of my aggressive grunt to the time I crept down from the stand in the dark, there was nothing, save for a crow cawing in the distance.
As I made my way back toward the truck, I envisioned what the ghost in the grove looked like; the uncountable number of points on his gnarled main beams which curled just above his eyes, shining brightly with the wisdom gained by once again winning the game that he had played with a number of hunters that came before me. I hoped that he would be there the next time I took the stand and challenged him once again to the continuing contest…in our outdoors.

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As a beginning bow hunter, I fall victim to what I’m sure are rookie mistakes. The sound of a squirrel on the ground, rustling through leaves for a bite of food is about all it takes to get my heart pumping and I find myself overamped at the noise. However, I am becoming more aware of the sound a deer makes in comparison to its small game contemporaries. Most notably, a couple of nights ago, when I heard the noise that now automatically gets my pulse pounding, I found myself learning a lot more about my quarry, the hunt and the fact that the thrill isn’t necessarily in the kill.

Having watched a combine lazily grind back and forth through the beige stalks of corn like an oversized lawnmower until only a small slice of the field still stood, I am waiting for the day to end and the animals in the belt of trees to start moving. As the sun slips through the branches of the large elm across the clearing from me, a sound registers on the edge of my sphere of hearing. Turning toward the noise of crackling leaves, the first thing I see is bone on top of a bobbing gray head – one antler slightly yellowed, and the other a bleached white. The right beam, with a tall second point curls around the deer’s head just inside his ear; the left beam is straighter with a small midway point and browtine, making for a six-point rack, even if it isn’t the most symmetrical set of headgear. Directly downwind and fifteen yards on the trail from my stand, a young buck drops his head and investigates the ground closely.

Upon my review of the deer, I make a decision that I have rarely made before – not to shoot. It’s more about the remaining days in the season than it is his rack or body size that causes me to pass on this particular buck, but admittedly it is a combination of all three. Another year or two in the field would serve him well, and the test he will present me now, short of taking that shot, will help me grow as a hunter.

I’ve never excelled at sitting still, being quiet, or remaining motionless. Little things get me excited, whether I’m fishing or watching football. To have a buck sneak in from the wrong direction will test every muscle and nerve in my body all while attempting to waylay the rush of endorphins that come with such a close encounter. I leave my release on my bow string, knowing that I could still draw if I wanted to.
I study his eyes through the triangle frame of willow branches which, with their yellowing fall leaves, conceal my position from the scanning vision of the buck. I can hear my heart beating in my ears as I wait for the outcome of his investigation, fully expecting the deer to snort and turn tail back toward the recently harvested corn field.

But the buck doesn’t bolt; he swishes his tail and takes three cautious steps into the clearing, a mere five yards from the ladder stand where I am sitting.

From that point on the buck is unaware of me just a few feet above him, motionless and steady. I watch carefully as he walks to various shrubs and saplings and rubs his nose and antlers on them to leave a calling card for the next deer to inspect. I note this behavior and his still cautious nature, as he drops his head on the trail leading to the nearby field. I watch as his tail flicks one last time as he disappears into the still-green undergrowth. I let out a restrained sigh; I have passed my first test on stand. With the exhalation, my body is racked by the rush of adrenaline which I managed to hold in check for several minutes.

It takes me several minutes to quell the rush of shudders that shake me. Though he wasn’t big, the buck that had just passed was a big deal. I unclip my release and regain my composure, sort of, and await the coming twilight, and wonder what the next test will be for me in my first real bow season…in our outdoors.

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More than 30 years ago, when the North Dakota Game and Fish Department began managing deer in smaller units and issuing a specific number of buck or doe licenses – for example, 38,000 total licenses in 1980 – some “want to be” potential deer hunters actually had to stay home.

Fortunately, that is not the case today. With more than 140,000 licenses available the past few years, just about everyone who wants to hunt deer with a rifle can do so close to home, and often with more than once license in hand if they choose.

While the number of licenses and season structure has changed, hunters really haven’t. Most hunters still prefer a buck license over a doe license, but will take a doe license if it means they otherwise wouldn’t be able to hunt.

In addition, most hunters with buck licenses would prefer to tag a large-antlered deer as opposed to one with small antlers, but will take a small one rather than risk not filling a tag for the season.

We have reached such an era of plenty with our deer population that some hunters are now no longer satisfied with simply an opportunity to hunt deer. They feel that the harvest of a large-antlered or trophy buck is the only desirable outcome, and that state wildlife agencies should implement some type of management scheme that attempts to produce more big bucks than were previously part of a deer population.

There is only one way for a buck, either whitetail or mule deer, to develop large antlers or even reach “trophy” size, and that is for it to live long enough. Having more bucks live longer means not shooting as many when they are young.
Reducing harvest of young deer can be accomplished in several ways, but the two that are promoted most often are antler restrictions such as points on a side or minimum inside spread, or significantly reducing the number of buck licenses, allowing more bucks to survive to an older age because fewer would be harvested in all age classes.
Some state wildlife agencies have tried regulations designed to allow more bucks to mature, with varying degrees of success.

Several western states have tried antler restriction zones,  However, determining antler points is not always so easy, especially during rifle seasons when shots are taken at long distances or at running deer and antler points or spread is not easily determined.

California, Oregon,Nevada,Utah, Colorado and Montana at one time all tried and dropped antler point restrictions in the last couple of decades because studies revealed that illegal kill was from 40 to 100 percent of the legal kill. In other words, for every 100 legal bucks taken, another 40 to 100 were killed and abandoned because they didn’t meet the minimum standards

Some western states still have some type of trophy or quality management zones, but the preferred method is limiting the number of buck licenses, without antler restrictions. This gives hunters the choice of taking the first “forkie” that comes along, or waiting for a chance at a more mature deer.

North Dakota Game and Fish biologists have evaluated many of these programs over the years, and determined that our current system of limited licenses in smaller units is working well. The state’s deer population is balanced and individual harvest success rates are high.

To further improve the odds of seeing more mature bucks in North Dakota, Game and Fish would have to reduce the number of buck licenses from their current level. In coffee cup conversations, take your three card partners and get their response after telling them their odds for drawing a buck tag were just slashed in half.Then share with me how many would prefer half as many buck licenses over the remainder of their hunting days, compared to the current system which actually focuses on providing the opportunity to hunt.

Leier is a biologist with the Game and Fish Department. He can be reached by email:dleier@nd.gov

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Then again, doe hunting doesn’t quite get the credit it deserves. In fact, when stories of deer seasons past bounce around like an empty pop can in the box of a pickup, odds are you won’t hear many recollections about “the time Joe got that doe down in the coulee.”

Buck management starts with regulating does

Seriously, next time the coffee conversation kicks up a deer hunting story and the rest of the crew begin adding their own into the mix, keep a mental count of how many include our antlerless deer. My guess is not too many, but when you really think about it in terms of total licenses, you realize that the majority of the deer hunting effort and harvest is does.
That wasn’t always the case. It wasn’t too long ago that deer numbers were such that some hunters applied a doe license just so they had a reasonable chance of getting to hunt deer at all.

Nowadays, about 90 percent of hunters in North Dakota’s first deer lottery drawing apply for a buck license, knowing there aren’t enough buck licenses to go around, but that antlerless licenses will be available in most units after the first lottery.

Part of the interest in these remaining licenses is that they can be used in their designated unit during the regular deer rifle season with any legal firearm or bow, the archery season with a bow, and also during the muzzleloader season with a legal blackpowder gun.

From a deer management standpoint in North Dakota, does are the key. Game and Fish Department big Bill Jensen relates, “The way you control the deer population is not by shooting bucks, but by shooting does.”

Jensen said each adult doe will, on average, give birth to two fawns in the spring. So, for example, if that adult doe is not bagged this fall, by next November there will be three deer running around instead of just one. “Deer are a pretty forgiving species,” Jensen said, “so if you just allow them to do their thing and reproduce, they are pretty easy to manage.

“But once you’ve hit your goals and you have to start controlling the population, then it becomes much more difficult in balancing the harvest rate. “We need to get a good doe harvest in order to control deer populations …it’s as simple as that,” he said. “And if hunters are not doing that, if they are not helping in the process of harvesting does, they are not fostering sound deer management.”

I’m not exactly sure when or why doe hunting for meat became a stigma for some hunters. But obviously it is not that way for a majority of hunters, who eagerly snap up nearly all of the antlerless licenses the Department makes available.
Jensen partly attributes a societal shift to the change in philosophy of some hunters. “When I was growing up, and maybe this is misperception, but it was nice if you got a big buck,” he said.“But it was more important that you got meat.”

People had more of a tie to the land back then, Jensen said. They grew up on farms and looked at animals as something to garnish the dinner table, not adorn a wall. “Whereas now, there has been a one or two generational shift in families away from the farm, and hunting has become more of a social event, a rekindling of family traditions.”
I totally relate to hunting as a social event … but deer on the table as the ultimate objective. Whether it’s me and my son, or your regular crew, the faces will change, but the passion for deer hunting in North Dakota remains, just like a good story at coffee, it never goes cold.

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Part 1 of a 2-Part Story

Can you remember your first case of buck fever?

This year’s deer season was make-or-break for me. In past years, I had been unwilling or unable to put in the time to become proficient with a rifle. There was always something else to do like fishing for bass or hunting upland game throughout late summer and early fall. My small amount of free time after work did not justify the effort of sighting in a rifle and running a few dozen rounds through it in preparation for opening day. Rather, that activity was reserved for the Thursday before opener in seasons past. I am ashamed to admit these facts, and acknowledge them as the primary stumbling block to fully enjoying deer hunting.

Further, my introduction to rifles at the tender age of 23 consisted of – embarrassingly enough – a crescent moon-shaped gash on my forehead after my first squeeze of the trigger. In Pavlovian fashion, every subsequent shot taken with any rifle, from the diminutive .223 to the 30.06, had me flinching. The recoil and noise had me wincing each time I prepared to fire, sometimes doing so when I forgot to chamber a round and pulled the trigger with no result.

To top it all off, when the seasons did come, I found myself shooting at running deer which I could not keep up with. My skills did not match those of the the other people in my party. Due to no fault of their own, I simply did not take to this pursuit that had controlled their calendar year since they turned fifteen. When I did harvest a respectable eight-pointer – being assured that I fired the shot that hit it, and not the other more experienced poster who fired along with me – I was still on the fence about the sport. It got to the point that last year, that I didn’t even put in for a tag.

I discussed my deer hunting experiences with a co-worker who invited me to hunt with him this fall. He was quite convincing in his argument that the style of hunting I engaged in previously was not for me, and that if I tried hunting with him, my mind would change about deer hunting. Still unsure, I mailed in my twenty dollar check and my application for any antlered deer in Unit 2G1. My application was successful and I told him that if I didn’t at least enjoy the hunt, this would be it. In response he stated he enjoyed several days of the previous year’s hunt, without ever firing a shot.

With that in mind, I ran several boxes of ammunition through my rifle in preparation for the season, after I had the local gunsmith bore sight my gun. At least I would get some shooting in.

I woke up on opening day at 4:30 a.m., full of excitement. It was like opening day of bass fishing in Minnesota, or sunrise on Pheasant Opener on the farm near Watford City, ND. I busied myself with checklists and the packing of equipment. My shots were down to a semi-consistent six-inch group at 100 yards in a final practice session the night before, and looking at the crinkled paper target laying on my passenger seat further fueled my optimism about this hunt.

I checked in at work, taught my class in blaze orange and headed to the local cafe to meet my hunting partners – a father-and-son duo I knew through another co-worker. My host, a law enforcement officer, was in charge of security for a high-profile trial, and would not be able to join us until the next day. Without our guide, the three of us talked as we drove to our hunting spot. I explained I really wasn’t picky about the buck I hoped to take, but that I was very safety-conscious and just happy to be out hunting.

The afternoon of opener was quiet. We sat upon a ridge overlooking the riparian oak forest, which ran nearly to the top of the valley. Having antlerless tags companions fired a few unsuccessful shots at a few does which strayed into our view; some casually walking into sight, while others streaked by, spooked by hunters on surrounding lands.

When deer activity was minimal, the skies kept us entertained. Two bald eagles patrolled the river, gliding high on the wind currents. The treetops buzzed with the shrieks of blue jays and the occasional flock of buntings or solitary crow would zip by. The clouds to the west began to break as the afternoon wore on and the wind came to a stop. As the sun neared the horizon, a deer appeared on the edge of the sumac nearly 100 yards away. I was alerted to its presence by my fellow observers.

“It’s a buck…I think,” the younger companion stated.

I  raised my binoculars and could clearly see two wispy white bones arching from the deer’s head about even with his ears. In the tangle of the tree branches behind him, I couldn’t see anything else.

“I’m going to pass on this one, he looks…small,” I whispered. With a snort and a stamp the deer turned as if insulted by my comment. With his head turned, he sported an impressive rack – at least four-by-four – which towered over his ears and ran parallel and beyond his nose. I jerked the binocs up again and tried to follow the deer into the brush, letting the glasses fall back to my chest as my face contorted into a wince of self-disgust.

“I thought you said you weren’t picky,” the eldest hunter said with a smile and a nudge. On the walk back to the truck and on the drive home, I replayed the moment over and over, sometimes adding in alternate endings with a successful shot and kill on my part instead of the sting of inexperience. Consoled by a hot meal and the crackle of a fire, I prepared for the next day…in our outdoors.

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Part 2 of a 2-Part Story

Nick's 2007 Whitetail Buck

With a blink of my eyes, I was asleep after dinner and awake long before the rest of the house. I jumped into my hunting clothes and donned blaze orange for day two of the November chase. My host, free from the burdens of work, picked me up and we met the rest of our party at the local cafe for breakfast. Handshakes, smiles and small-talk about the big one were exchanged with hunters around us as we ordered up eggs, toast and coffee.

Satiated and fueled for the day’s hunt, we wheeled our way south in the still-dark morning through the winding Sheyenne River valley; passing by the turn to Fingal, then dipping into the Clausen Springs draw near Kathryn. Reflective blue eyes stared at us warily from the ditches and the shoulders of the road along the trip, up until the instant we parked the truck. We unloaded the vehicles and hastened against the approaching dawn, well aware we were running late. Pushed by winds from the south, we made it back to our overlook as the first reports rang out over the valley.

My host and his friend, another veteran law enforcement officer, stalked the western edge of the ridge, while I teamed with my father-and-son companions from the day before.. Dawn turned to day, and there was little to report from either group.

At a hillside conference, we decided a walk through the trees would get the animals moving. We formed new teams of walkers and posters and the sentries stood guard where the river and the woods met the gravel road to the east. With my host and my young companion from the day before, I began walking along the ridge between the top of the valley and the woods. Not far into our trek, the bang-bang of the posters’ rifle fire signaled the start of a successful drive.

A white-antlered buck sprung from a coulee connected to the river bottom and doubled back in front of me. I saw his rut-swollen neck and impressive four-by-four rack for a fraction of a second as he disappeared back into the forest. My heart-rate spiked, and I picked up the pace to see the results of our push. The posters had reports of several deer breaking over the valley edge, but only three empty brass cartridges to show for our efforts.

We headed to another draw, presuming that deer in the area would be seeking cover from the uncertainty of the gusting wind and the road-hunters circling on the gravel like crows over a freshly-hit raccoon. Not three minutes into the walk, two antlerless deer jumped from cover next to the spring creek which formed the small ravine, providing a shot to the youngest hunter in the group. His .270 rang out and the deer ran off, the back one lagging, stumbling, then falling. It was a clean shot. The animal expired quickly, and was tagged and retrieved.

We were then joined by friends and family of my host. Our reconnaissance group grew in number, and now had the manpower to take on more intense ravines where the deer were hiding. One member of the hunting party lamented he was too young to get a deer tag this year, and was excited for his coming-of-age as a hunter.

In an attempt to garner permission from the law, the gradeschooler asked my host if he could hunt this year, stating “afterall, you’re the sheriff.”

The party erupted in laughter, and my host replied, “You know, I would, but I’m out of my jurisdiction,” as the roaring swelled.

Feeling the burn in my abdominal muscles from the comic relief, I set out on the edge of a large wooded creek bottom. A few does bounded up each ravine draw as the group advanced and the father I had teamed with for the walk filled his family’s second tag within twenty yards of our starting point.

As we came to the end of our walk, I saw an orange-clad poster just beyond the last draw leading into the creek bottom. I debated whether I should walk through the draw, or around it. Deciding it was too overgrown and filled with deadfalls, I began to bypass it. Cows moved from east to west and my shooting lanes disappeared into a herd of Black Angus.

Startled by my approach and the mooing of the herd, a buck sprang from the very end of that last draw. I saw his headgear, with main beams at least three-inches thick when viewed from the side. The deer plowed toward the creek bottom as I sounded the alarm.

“HUGE BUCK COMING DOWN!” I yelled as the rest of the walkers turned and watched the tree branches fly as the deer busted cover, both literally and figuratively.

Slack-jawed and frustrated by my laziness, I watched the buck disappear from view, providing no safe shot for me to take, unless I wanted a side of beef as a consolation prize.

The party disbanded, and having filled both their tags, the father-and-son duo headed home. I returned with my host and his friend to our starting point to once again watch for movement on the hillside.

We set up in the same spot I had sat for the last two days, waiting for a deer to show. Impatiently, I paced the edge of the river bottom, walking a half-mile to the east and back as the sun neared the horizon. I sat down for a few minutes, and stared across the valley marveling at the hunting towers in the hills.

“Nick…there’s a buck right there!” My host whispered as he leaned toward me, pointing toward the forest edge.

Finally locating the animal with my own eyes, I lifted my rifle. Through the scope I saw eight-inch tines above the deer’s head. There was no shakiness, no nervousness and no wince readied as I thought about pulling the trigger. I clicked the safety into the firing position and breathed in as the deer emerged from behind a tree. Placing the crosshairs on his chest jutting out from behind the obstruction, I squeezed the trigger.

BOOM!

I watched through the smoke as the deer back-peddled and spun wildly over the knoll and disappeared back town into the woods.

“I hit him,” I exclaimed.

“Yes you did,” said the men beside me, almost in unison.

Overjoyed, I flew down the hill with my host and began my first search for a blood trail. It wasn’t long before we found specks of crimson in the grass. I followed them, bit by bit, replaying the path of the deer in my head – watching him struggle up the hill and disappear. As I approached the apex, the droplets blossomed into the rhythmic sprays of a fatal shot.

We followed the trail down into the woods. It was then I caught a vision of white on the gray-brown oak leaf carpet and the shine of antler bone. My heart jumped into my throat and I thanked my host for holding his end of the promise he had made four months earlier.

I was in awe, riding high on the illuminated clouds of the early November sunset. It was the most memorable moment I had experienced in the field or on the water. I knelt beside the buck and examined my shot that had ended his life, and in all aspects began mine as a deer hunter. Gently stroking his rough gray coat, I bowed my head and whispered the words of Ecclesiastes.

“To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven, a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which was planted,” I softly stated, racked by the effects of adrenaline and emotion.

Nowhere had those words fit more perfectly than in that tiny space between myself and the fallen buck as we were surrounded by the silent autumn woods…in our outdoors.

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The author with a nice late-season whitetail buck

If you’re from North Dakota you take a lot of grief about how cold the winters are. It’s just a fact of life.

It’s also a fact that many of us like the cold weather, or more accurately, the change of seasons. But the cold weather does a couple of other things too. It makes our deer grow big and the cold winters ensure that we remain a relatively rural state with lots of hunting opportunities and not a lot of concrete.

But it’s during our late season deer hunting that we bowhunters pay the price for our North Dakota winters. The bowhunting in December and the first week of January, can be excellent, but it’ll probably take lots of layers of clothing to keep you in that treestand or ground blind. We’ll look at staying warm later. For now, let’s consider hunting late season whitetails in North Dakota.

WHEN TO HUNT

A common question among bowhunters, at any time of the season, is when to hunt. The only acceptable answer is – whenever you can. That is especially true during the late bow season. Most of us have probably used all our vacation and we’re relegated to hunting only on our days off or holidays. And it gets dark too early to hunt after work, unless you’re one of those fortunate ones who gets off early in the day. So, the only alternative is to get out in that treestand at every opportunity and that includes mornings when the temperature may be difficult to tolerate.

In the late season, especially in a state like North Dakota, it usually doesn’t pay to sit in a treestand during midday. Deer waste little time getting to their bedding areas in the morning and you usually won’t have to sit much past an hour after sunrise. By then, most deer, and especially the bucks, will be tucked safely in their beds and they don’t tend to do too much wandering around during the day.

The same goes in the evenings. If you head for your treestand too early in the day, you will most likely be spending your time getting cold. “Primetime” comes later in the day as the season grows old.

The exception to this rule, and there are always exceptions, is if there is a storm in progress, or on its way. If you’re deep enough in the woods on a stormy, snowy day you may be surprised at how many deer you find wandering around. However, you’ll have to be protected from any strong wind or you’ll be freezing your hindquarters off for no reason. In summary, if you have your tag left, bowhunt every chance you get.

WHERE TO HUNT

Knowing where to hunt is the easy part, especially if there is snow cover. A couple of hours spent driving around in prime whitetail country will reward you with all kinds of places to hunt. North Dakota’s deer population is at an all-time high right now and you’ll have no trouble finding deer during December and January.

What isn’t a sure thing is getting access to those deer. North Dakota is about 93% private land and you’ll have to seek permission from landowners to hunt deer. That said, you should have almost no trouble with that during the last month of the season. Landowners will be done with their hunting and most are more than willing to allow access. They really want to see a reduction in the deer herd this year, so permission for late season bowhunters shouldn’t be a problem.

Dressed in white, the author inspects some fresh deer sign in the snow

River and creek bottoms are probably number one on the list of places to find late-season whitetails. The Red River along the Minnesota border always holds large numbers of deer toward the later part of the season. Access isn’t quite as forthcoming along the Red because that deer habitat is in the heart of the population centers and some places are leased up or being saved for others. The same goes along the Missouri River, both north and south of Bismarck, and along the Yellowstone and Little Missouri Rivers in the west. Access to those whitetails can be difficult, even during December because of people buying land strictly for hunting – a practice that is growing in North Dakota.

However, that doesn’t mean there is nowhere to hunt. Some public land exists along the Missouri River south of Bismarck and Mandan. And there are many smaller river and creeks that provide whitetail cover and can be accessed just by locating gracious landowners. There are also several large tracts of National Grassland, managed by the Forest Service, that provide the bowhunter some acreage to pursue deer. Some of that land can be found near Leonard and Kindred in the east and in the far west.

Besides in riverbottom land, you’ll find whitetails holed up in large, thick shelterbelts, out in huge fields of Conservation Reserve Program (CRP) land (if it’s not filled in with snow), and the sure thing is usually a big cattail slough. Whitetails love to slip into a stand of cattails and snuggle up in the nearly impenetrable safety they provide. Another key thing to look for, as always, is the food source. Corn is king. Followed by volunteer winter wheat (nice, green fields that deer love) then sugar beets. I always look for corn and focus on that. Food plots are fine, but if they’re small they were probably stripped of their cobs long before late season arrived. Large cornfields that have been picked and hold lots of waste corn will do the trick nicely. Deer will travel for a long way to get to corn, and other food sources for that matter.

The next key is to figure out where they are bedding. Late season whitetails have just been hunted hard during the firearm season and are extremely spooky. They don’t like exposing themselves during the day and open cornfields give them more exposure than they care for. So, they’ll bed down in heavy cover nearby and wait until the last minutes of daylight before getting up and making their move to feed. Don’t underestimate how far a deer will walk from bedding to feeding grounds, a mile or even two is nothing to them.

If you still can’t find late season deer, stop and talk to some landowners, call a game warden or just ask around town. The locals know where the deer are wintering, but I have a hunch finding deer will be the least of your problems this December.

THE HOW OF THE HUNT

Here’s how I hunt late-season whitetails in North Dakota. By the time December arrives I usually know where to find the all-important bedding grounds. I don’t hunt the food sources themselves much because it takes too long for the deer to get there in the evening and they’re usually gone by daylight in the mornings..

I much prefer bedding areas, or somewhere along the trail that leads to where the deer are feeding. In the mornings I like to slip in close to where the deer are bedding. That’s an effort to get ahead of both the deer and daylight. Does and fawns will lollygag around for a while in the morning, but bucks waste no time getting to bed. Several years ago, on the second to the last day of the season, I finally had a good buck come down the trail heading for bed. He stood broadside at seven yards, but it was too early to shoot! Letting him walk away really stung.

During December I like to have my treestands a bit higher than usual because of the lack of cover. At 6’5”, I stick out like a giant squirrel and skittish bucks tend to notice me if I’m not up in the air. I try to hunt the hottest trails, but it’s often a game of chess trying to predict which trail the deer will take on any particular morning. I avoid setting up too close to a trail because in the cold, quiet mornings, the slightest sound can make a whitetail buck explode into flight.

My strategy doesn’t change much for evening hunts. I still like to be closer to the bedding areas than the feeding areas because that puts me in a position to better intercept a buck that is taking his sweet time getting out of bed and heading to dinner.

If there is snow on the ground, you may have to hang back a bit from the bedding areas because snow is just too noisy to allow you to get to your stand undetected. If a buck hears something ominous, he may not bolt, but he might stay in bed until dark.

If I’m hunting a cattail slough, a suitable tree isn’t always available, so I resort to a ground blind. In some cases, a ground blind is deadlier than a treestand. If you can get set up along a major trail, some of which prairie whitetails will purposely use to avoid trees, you can set up a pop-up ground blind and surprise them. I have a Double Bull blind that is made with a camouflage pattern called “Fall Flight.” It resembles cattails, corn or prairie grass and can be hidden very well in tall cane.

In extreme late-season cold a Heater Body Suit will help you conserve body heat. It's easier than it looks to slip out of the suit for the shot.

During the latter part of the season I don’t use a decoy, rattling antlers or any kind of a call. Oh, I’ll still have a grunt and a bleat call in my pocket, just in case, but most of the deer are so touchy at this time of year, those tactics only seem to alarm them.

Whatever strategy I use to hunt late-season whitetails, I make sure I go every chance I get, find the deer and spend as much time as possible in their travel path waiting for something good to happen.

WARMTH – A WEAPON

Probably the deadliest late-season weapon is warmth. The ability to stay warm will go a long way toward helping you get out of bed on a cold morning. Here’s what works for me.

Finding deer during the late season isn't hard. Sometimes you can do it from your vehicle but other times you have to take off hiking.

It doesn’t work to just wear one thick, heavy pair of coveralls with light clothes underneath so, as you’ve read for years, you have to layer. I start off with silk or polypropylene long underwear and then layer according to the temperature. Wool is excellent because it traps air. Fleece is also very effective and this past fall I wore up to three fleece pullovers underneath my coveralls and that kept me toasty warm. It’s also important to have at least one layer that will stop the wind from penetrating.

The extremities are really where you need to focus. On my feet I wear polypropylene socks under wool and then I put on pac-style boots with liners that are absolutely dry because I keep them on one of those boot dryers overnight. If it’s really cold I take a pair of chemical toe-warmers with the adhesive backing and stick them on the bottom of my toes before slipping them in the boot. Since I started doing that, cold feet are a thing of the past.

For my hands I like to wear a wool military glove underneath a fleece glove you can buy at a clothing store. That combination is extremely quiet and that’s important. I’ve yet to find a decent pair of camouflage hunting gloves that keep me warm and aren’t noisy. However, I don’t depend on the wool/fleece combination to keep my hands warm. I keep them in the insulated pockets of my jacket, or I strap an insulated muff around my waist and keep my hands in that. Again, cold hands are a thing of the past.

For my head, where most of my body heat can be lost, I wear a knit facemask with an insulated ball cap underneath. I like to have the visor over my eyes when looking into the sun. If it’s really cold I’ll wear two knit facemasks. Another option is one of those pullover neck warmer/head cover combinations. They are fleece, camouflage, adjustable and very warm.

If that’s still not enough armor against the cold, I take my Heater Body Suit up in the tree with me. It’s like a sleeping bag with an interior harness. I can enclose my arms inside and when a deer comes I can quietly pull the zipper down and the harness keeps the suit up while I slip my arms out and grab my bow. It looks cumbersome, but it works.

If all that is not keeping me warm, I go home and wait for nicer temperatures.

FORCING THE ISSUE

Sometimes, when a bowhunter has an empty tag in his pocket, and not a lot of time to hunt, he resorts to trying to make something happen. That usually means getting together with other bowhunters and making a few drives. We used to do that in the public river bottoms south of Mandan years ago. The local bowhunters had the deer figured out and knew about where they would go when pushed. Some would carry treestands in and set up on escape trails and the rest would line up and drive large expanses of trees and brush.

Moving the deer slowly is the trick to this technique. The drivers need to slip along quietly, zig-zag a bit, and generally make bedded whitetails nervous by penetrating their sanctuary. Done correctly, the deer will trot ahead of the drivers, stopping occasionally to make sure the threat is still coming. Once in awhile, a stander would have a deer, whether it was a good buck or a fat doe, come sneaking along and stop right by his stand, presenting a shot. Enough tags got filled by this hunting tactic that it kept everyone doing it. Unfortunately, it also irritated other bowhunters who were trying to hunt from a stand and wait for the deer to move in their natural pattern.

If you and your buddies decide to try a deer drive or two, consider other bowhunters who might be affected. If the situation is right, driving deer just might produce a shot at anything from a juicy yearling to the biggest buck in the county.

It’s a special challenge to conquer both the elements and ultra-wary winter whitetails, the spookiest of which are often the does, and do it with a primitive weapon. Bowhunting North Dakota’s deer in December and early January isn’t for the timid or weak. But it is for the bowhunter who still has a tag and a strong desire to drop the string on a deer before the season passes him by.

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