Dances With Deer

As this “summer that never was” winds down and frost sprinkles the few pumpkins that haven’t drowned, bows and firearms will emerge from closets and gun cabinets across this great state of Maine. This is the time I find myself anticipating the upcoming hunting seasons and thinking back on the past.

It’s not the tough wing shots on birds, the big bucks, bull moose, or strutting wild turkeys I have bagged that come immediately to mind. It’s the fascinating and sometimes bizarre events that unfold in the outdoors arena. Pull up a stool and I’ll tell a couple of tales.

One October afternoon, after perching myself in a tree stand with no action to speak of, I climbed down and headed back to my truck with a few minutes of legal hunting light left. Seasoned bow hunters know it can be dark as doom in the woods at dusk but light enough to read a book in the open, so I wanted to peek into a blueberry barren to see if any deer were out.

Sure enough, I spotted a deer a few hundred yards away along the top edge of the barren, looking right at me. I considered backing out of sight in hopes the deer would relax, allowing me a stalk, but the waning light and lay of the land meant I had no time for that. Figuring I had nothing to lose, I decided to walk directly at the deer.

I started across the wide-open barren at a steady cadence. As I got closer and closer, it raised its tail to half-mast and dropped it back down, over and over. The deer was mesmerized, hypnotized. At around 100 yards I nocked an arrow, never breaking stride. The closer I got, the smaller the deer got. It was a doe and a small one at that. Still, I kept walking and still the deer just stared at me. At 30 yards I had decided that, although perfectly legal, I wasn’t going to shoot this “skipper,” as they are called here in Maine.

When I got to 20 yards the deer turned and bounded a few yards further away but didn’t run into the woods. I stopped. The deer then, inexplicably, started to walk toward me. We then proceeded to play cat and mouse with each other. I would advance and the deer would frolic away, only to circle back close to me again and again. I reached out and grazed the hair on its back with my bow and it never bolted. I had never been this close to a wild deer. Soon darkness descended and I bid my little dance partner goodbye.

Another very lucky deer was an overly curious spike buck. One cold November morning I was sitting on the ground, high up on the side of a mountain, with my rifle in my lap. I took out my deer call and did a series of doe bleats at 15-minute intervals, hoping a buck or a doe would hear it, get curious, and come in for a look.

Sure enough, I saw a flash of brown way down the ridge. My heart started to pound and my mind raced with visions of a huge-racked Maine buck. Not this one. As it got closer I could see it was a spike buck (a young buck with just spikes for antlers). Every deer hunter has been faced with this dilemma. It’s early season, plenty of time to wait for a big buck, but in Maine you may not even see another deer. Should I shoot?

As the buck started to veer to my right I did a couple more bleats. He turned and started a beeline towards me, like a bird dog on scent. I sat perfectly still and watched as he stopped just a few yards away and stared, confused. Where was the doe he’d heard? He circled up and behind me, apparently never catching my wind, then started to meander back down the ridge. I bleated again. He turned around and literally loped back to me, stopping a mere spitting distance away, looking for the deer he was convinced was there. I let him wander off a couple more times—and couldn’t resist calling him in as if on a string. Finally I let him continue his morning travels and he disappeared out of sight. Once he had come close, it never occurred to me to shoot this deer. I was enjoying the show much more than I would have dragging him off the mountain.

So, I guess what I am saying to all you Nimrods out there is, don’t be too trigger-happy this hunting season. Sometimes you need to become a bit player, let the performance unfold, and enjoy the show. You’ll be glad you did.

Brad Eden is an artist, writer, Registered Maine Master Guide, and owner/editor of the online magazine www.uplandjournal.com.