Two Dead Scarecrows and One Spooked Deer

I got out in the woods for a couple hours this afternoon. We had errands to run after the trip to church and the tasks delayed me by an hour or so. I had hoped to get out and be set up by 2:30, allowing for plenty of time for the woods to quiet, and hopefully an unwary whitetail to wander through.

It’s been nearly three weeks since I have seen a deer, of any sort, in the woods where I am hunting this year. That is a long spell of time by any standards, but I know the reason why. Muzzleloader season and regular firearms both opened over the last few weeks and the woods have been inundated with clumsy hunters crashing around and looking for deer. Understandably, this upsets whatever loose pattern of movement the deer had been following and makes any encounter I might have with them a much more random event.

Truth be told, I have probably missed my best chances for getting a deer this year. At one point, I had figured their movement down to the day and hour they would be passing a certain area. Twice, I had put myself in position to be successful based on this knowledge, and twice they passed by a few yards too many from where I figured. Then the other seasons opened and I am back to square one.

But getting back to my most recent outing, I was approaching my stand as quietly as I could. The leaves were wind-dried and very crunchy, requiring great effort to move with even reasonable quietness. The wind was dead, helping noise to carry even better. As I approached a small stone wall, the last obstacle to cross before I climbed into my stand, I heard it. The two distinct crashes that a deer makes when it bounds away from you came from well within earshot, just ahead. I was too late.
Now, I still held out some hope that this deer would turn around and come back. I have seen deer do this many times. They get spooked a bit and run away, but whatever was drawing them in this direction to begin with is still there and they will cautiously work their way back after some time. So, I put on my harness and got set up in my treestand anyway.

I heard a couple of steps out there somewhere as I waited, but nothing ventured close enough to see. So, I sat still and watched the last strands of daylight drain out of the woods and darkness settle. I am planning to hunt further south over Thanksgiving and wanted to take another treestand out of the woods for the trip, so I climbed down and headed for the other stand.

To get into this stand, and to protect it from thieves, I use strap-on tree steps. I take off the bottom three or four so there is no way to reach the upper steps and the stand itself from the ground. I clicked my headlamp on red light, and set the lower steps up. I was not going to climb into the stand this time, just climb up and unfasten it from the trunk.

When I got up to the top step, I could see the main strap holding the stand to the tree had been chewed up. The whole length of excess strap was gone and the portion of the strap going around the tree was nearly pulling through the buckle. Had I not checked and just climbed on, I am not sure the stand would have held.

As it was, I unbuckled what was left and lowered it to the ground. In a few minutes I gathered up the steps and folded the stand so I was ready to move. I got back to my truck about 50 minutes after sunset. But I was not done with this trip just yet. Scattered over the side of the road across from my truck were an assortment of beer cans, boxes, and two rather sorry looking scarecrows. All were ditched by someone who perhaps doesn’t realize we have an actual dump that is free to use and would readily accept all of these items.

As I do from time to time, I went over and set to picking up the items and putting them in the back of my truck. It really takes very little effort to clean up a little section of road and just dump the trash with my own. Plus, I think it is good PR if I happen to be spotted picking up trash. I think it helps to break up that beer-drinking and hunting stereotype that tends to persist, even though in reality, I have yet to ever see a hunter drinking in the woods.

So, with a half-eaten treestand, two abused scarecrows, and a little pile of someone else’s beer cans in the back of my truck, I headed for home. Another day is gone, one day less left for this season. But I did learn that the deer are back in the area, and that is good news. I have until December 15th, so there is still time to hunt.