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There wasn’t much sign of the rut as opening day approached. No line of tree rubs or ground scrapes along the normal trails in the area made me hesitant as to whether or not this was going to be a fruitful hunting season.

Now I’ve considered myself to be a person that has reached the fifth (sportsman) stage of hunting. In the four decades of being out there, I’ve clearly seen the transition from the prior four. Now I just enjoy the opportunity to get away and spend some time in the solitude of the hunt.

Part of that enjoyment is prior to deer season in scouting the five different areas I hunt. Trail cameras have enhanced hunters ability to monitor deer activity.

I don’t care how many times a buck appears on a memory card as it is downloaded to a picture file in a lap-top computer, the odds of it being there when hunting actually starts seems to be few and far between especially once the rut starts.

While it may seem I’m setting myself up for a disappointment, I understand that the odds of taking a big buck are against me, especially given my schedule for the opener.

On November 15^th, we’re up no later than 5:30 a.m. I made it in the blind by 6:30, just twenty-three minutes prior to the official legal start time but a good forty minutes prior to being able to legitimately distinguish a target given the cover of the woods in the area. There is an unexplainable feeling of comfort while sitting there too.

The sounds of the area seem to carry for miles. One can hear the first shots of the season ring out from the farm fields to the south and west. I waited for one from the south, the bark of my son’s 8mm. He did it the last couple seasons, taking the first buck in camp. I contemplated whether or not he’d once again have bragging rights of which he usually took full advantage.

Nope. Nothing was heard on this day, in fact there wasn’t a shot heard all morning from anywhere. Not a good sign, I thought. Not one deer came through the funnel I monitor, enroute to feeding from their bedding areas.

I was back to camp by 10:00 to make breakfast for the guys and ready for my commitment on the radio. Each year I enjoy time during the first week of season in doing the “Deer Hunters Report” from the Rusty Rail in Cornell. Joining me for the hour long presentation is Ron Lundberg, the primary sponsor and Cook Derouin from Derouin’s Auto Body & Collision who sponsor two rifles for random draw on each deer registered at the Rail. One gun is given to a youth hunter and the other to an adult.

Once completed, I’m back at camp by about 2:00 p.m., and headed for the woods. This year it was 3:05 when I was back and ready, settled in until dark.

I wasn’t expecting to see much. I’d heard a couple shots off in the distance but nothing near by, especially east of the swamp where there is usually a lot of activity. I thought I should have brought a book to read, it was that quiet.

About 3:45 p.m., all things changed.

An adult doe came in by itself. Usually a single larger antlerless deer that approaches the area is a fawn buck. I glassed it and it was a doe. It was a doe in estrus, ready and eager for breeding. I’d never been witness to a ritual like this before and it was to be a calling card for a couple of bucks.

The doe came into a small clearing and urinated. During estrus they’ll usually do so hunched so it covers the inner hocks of their legs and over the tarsal glands, leaving their scent and pheromones on the ground to attract a rutting buck.

This doe actually made sure to cover one leg at a time, lifting the opposite side and then switching over to the other. She then strutted in a continuing circle. Again, I’d never seen this before.

Shortly after a pencil size tined fork buck came into view. It appeared to be a fawn buck as they sometimes sprout antlers given good nutrition. It stopped short of the doe, focused but seemingly unknowing of what to do.

The doe appeared to get bored with the potential suitor and very slowly meandered away. I could watch her through balsams, almost strutting her stuff. As she went out of view, the fawn buck made a quick head turn towards the swamp and locked in, frozen like a statue, ears cupped forward.

That’s when I saw him.

At first the legs, then the nose and the tips of a couple antler points. Slowly, almost plotting each step, I got a glimpse of multiple points and decided to scope this one instead of using the binoculars.

Once the buck cleared the woods line, it too focused on the fawn buck, knowing a doe was nearby but not wanting any competition. It stared back at the younger male and began lowering its head, pulling his ears back as to challenge or at least intimidate his potential opponent.

Figuring he wasn’t going to hang around long, noting that if it had enough points (meeting the area camp requirement of eight points or better), I had a split second to make a choice.

With gun up, I counted - one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight - BOOM! It dropped right there, the 30-06 right on target and my hunt was over.

The three and a half year old eight pointer had a 13 inch inside spread and green scored near 120. It weighed 139 pounds after field dressing and had a huge neck. It was my first buck in five years

It proves again that you never know. Hunting, especially deer hunting, boils down to being in the right place at the right time. This year it was my turn.