Do You Have More Patience

Do You Have More Patience Than He Does?

By Dave Freeman

I noticed a movement out of the corner of my eye as four does dashed in front of my car in the dark of that November 5th morning. I was approximately a mile by road from my favorite hunting spot, but not more than a half mile as the crow flies or as the deer travels, when the does came running across the road about an hour before daylight. They headed into a pine grove just north of where my stand was located.

I remember thinking as I got out of my car there was a good possibility that these does were in that pine grove and certainly the best thing you can have during rut is four live, gorgeous looking, well built, pretty brown eyed decoys walking through the woods toward your hunting spot.

Arriving at my tree stand in the dark, I quickly made my way up into the stand, still thinking about the does. The area I hunted was adjacent to the pine grove about fifty feet into a hardwood ridge. This was an area deer frequently traveled through when returning to their bedding area. They often crossed the oak ridge and bedded down over the opposite end of the ridge in a locust and brush thicket. It was a natural thoroughfare between the bedding area, the oak flats, which was loaded with acorns, and then through the pine grove into various farmers' cornfields.

That particular Thursday morning in the woods began like many others as I watched gray and fox squirrels chase each other, listened to the sound of a grouse drumming behind me and an occasional dog barking as households woke up and got their children ready to catch the bus. (Which often you can hear four or five hundred yards away on the highway nearby.)

About an hour after daylight I could hear movement in the pine grove. Having hunted that same area for several years, I was pretty sure it was a deer. Pretty sure, but pretty sure sometimes turns out to be a chipmunk, a squirrel, a raccoon or a cat.

In this case, however, my first instinct was correct. Just over my right shoulder I could see the brown shape of a doe as she stepped out of the pine grove and started heading for the bedding area down the trail that passed close to my tree stand. In very short order she was followed by a second doe, a third doe, and a fourth doe. They came just immediately to my left. As I think about it I can’t say that I saw a fifth deer but I felt the presence of one at the edge of the pine grove, but not in the hard woods.

The does that morning were in no particular hurry to go anywhere. The ripened acorns had dropped and were there on the ground around me. This food was ample reason to keep them in the area, storing up protein and getting ready for winter which would be here in the next three or four weeks.

As the does meandered beneath me, beside me, in front of me and then again back behind me, I occasionally would catch sight or hear the sound of a fifth deer standing at the edge of the pine grove but not wanting to come into the open oak flat. Whether because of any scent I had put down on the ground an hour and a half earlier as I walked into my tree stand, or because of any movement I had made, or whether the instinct that had kept this magnificent animal alive to this point in his life, I’m not sure, but the deer was not coming into the oaks.

Anyone who has sat on a tree stand and had a deer come in knows the instinct to turn and take a look. That particular morning I made up my mind I was not going to turn until I could see this deer walk by me. At this point in time, I had no idea if the deer was a buck or just another doe. Time passed slowly, not a large amount of time, maybe 15 or 20 minutes. The does continued to feed, but now they started to feed down the ridge in the opposite direction of the pine grove.

I reasoned that since this was the peak of rut, and that the four does were possibly either in heat or coming into heat, that if I didn’t turn, or give in to the urge to look out of the corner of my eye and see what was there, I would hear footsteps as the buck came out of the pine grove.

The does ambled from fifty to a hundred yards from my tree stand to the oak flat. They seemed in no hurry to go anywhere, but steadily moved toward the bedding area, as it was now close 8:30 p.m.

Now, Mr. Majestic himself made the decision that he was not going to let those four does slip away. Without much warning, and without any real direction, here came the buck, a beautiful high rack ten point. I think that the buck either knew I was in that tree or had a pretty good idea that something was in that tree. As he approached the trail the does had taken, he walked very gingerly, step by step until he was directly beside the tree.

Then it appeared that something kicked in. He had made it this far safe so he should be safe the rest of the way. The buck then took another eight to ten steps his eyes on the does. At this point, he was fifteen yards ahead of me on the trail, quartering, and staring at the does. I eased my bow up, came to full draw, put my 20 yard site pin low of his vitals and released.

When you take a shot in the woods with other deer present it is kind of like someone throwing a hand grenade into the mix. As the buck headed forward straight down the trail the does exploded in four different directions, some going down the trail, some going across the hill, some running back under my tree stand and stopping.

If you have ever sat in a tree stand and had to wait that hour before you got down to look for your deer, you know that the presence of a couple does feeding underneath you is a pleasant diversion from the monotony of forcing yourself to stay in the tree.

I will admit that the hour was only about 52 minutes and by that time the does had headed back down the trail toward where the buck had gone and over the ridge. I lowered my bow down out of the tree along with my knapsack. After climbing down and doing the necessary things that a bow hunter who has been cold, excited and sat still for three hours in a tree has to do when he or she first reaches the ground, I started down the trail toward where the buck had run.

By the time I made it down the well-worn deer trail to where the buck had disappeared, I was already convinced that I had made a good shot. There was a solid blood trail and upon closer examination a frothy looking blood was evident not only on the ground but up on bushes. This told me that I had a lung shot.

Approximately 100 yards down the ridge from where I had released my arrow, I found my trophy. He was a beautiful 140 class ten-point that field dressed 174 pounds and was probably the prettiest deer I have ever had the opportunity to harvest. He was a near perfect buck in that the rack on both sides was fairly symmetrical and basically perfect in length.

I sat on a log near my trophy and before I started the obvious task of preparing the animal for the drag back to the car, I appreciated the beauty of that fantastic morning. I also had to give a round of applause to the four does, without which I am sure I would not have had the opportunity to harvest my deer.

Even in death I had to respect this animal, for his instincts that morning had kept him from stepping into harms way for over twenty minutes. Had it not been for the time of the year and the rut I’m sure I would never have seen him come out of the pine grove. We all can preach patience when we hunt and certainly in the case of deer hunting or turkey hunting that’s what makes the world go round. While that morning I had the patience of Job, I could tell you of stories of other mornings where a slight turn of my head or peering over my shoulder cost me other trophies. It is said that patience pays off and that morning it did.

As we go into this year’s hunting season, I will try to keep that in mind, but I am sure there will be a time when the snap of a limb or the sound of footsteps will cause me once again to turn and send Mr. Buck on his way, safe for another day.