Opening Day of Archery Season: A Deer's Perspective

It's that time of year again. Hunting season is upon us. Many states are already weeks into their season, but Michigan, and half a dozen other states, open on October 1st. Being over 40 years old, I have experienced a fair number of opening days. A number of years ago I wrote a short story of what I feel mature bucks go through on opening day. I've edited it a bit to reflect the changes in insight I have gained with added knowledge and experience. Here is that story.

As your night time ritual of decimating farmers' corn winds into the wee hours of the morning, you notice a change in the misty air. It's not something you can see or hear or even smell...yet. You continue to snack on the corn, enjoying the cool fog that surrounds you. First light is still more than an hour away. Eventually your belly is full and you begin to saunter back to your bedding area, realizing what this change portends.

Then you hear it. A truck door closing. From different locations, near and far, you hear the sound repeated at irregular intervals, slightly muffled by the heavy atmosphere.

You snicker to yourself. You wait all year for hunting season to roll around. You've survived your share. Granted, some of the early lessons were hard. You still limp from where that kid shot through your front leg with an arrow your first year. But now you're wiser, and have come to appreciate the entertainment to be had in the fall months.

You already know where the hunters will be. A lot of these guys use the same stands every year, although, lately, they have shown a disturbing tendency to move around much more frequently. You can hear one of them trying, and failing, to sneak through the woods right now. You know which stand he is approaching. You wonder how any deer are ever killed when humans are so loud, clumsy, and smelly. You see the beam from the hunter's flashlight flitting through the trees. Deciding to start the festivities off early, you move into position about ten yards from the stand. You watch the uncoordinated oaf as he wanders back and forth, cursing to himself, because he forgot which tree his stand is in. If you could laugh you would. The frustrated fellow finally finds his tree and begins his ascent. You wait until he's approximately halfway up and snort just as hard as you can and stomp away. You hear the hunter cuss some more as he nearly slips off the steps in surprise.

Ahh, good stuff, you think to yourself. So good, in fact, you do it to two other hunters you are able to find before there is enough light for their weak human eyes to see you. Just as the sun starts to paint the eastern sky a soft salmon color, tendrils of fog drift through the early morning air as you make your way through the forest.

Having too much fun, you decide to forgo your normal routine. You can sleep anytime. You meander through the forest seeking out your next target.

Having located one (you could smell him 400 yards away), you walk in what appears to be a haphazard manner back and forth and around his stand. This only has the appearance of being random. You make sure that at all times there are several trees and brush between you and the hunter. You can see the intensity in his eyes as the adrenaline courses through his body. You can smell the nervous anticipation as it rolls off him in seemingly visible waves. Once you think you've brought his heart to its maximum sustainable rate, you put a tree between the two of you and walk straight away.

As the day wears on, you decide you actually do need to sleep. You make your way to your hidey hole in the local swamp and nap for a few hours.

You awake as evening approaches. Now it's time for your favorite tease. Just as the light begins to fade, you arrive at a nearby alfalfa field. You know exactly where the hunter is as he's been here several times a week hanging his stand, checking his trail cameras, and all but giving you a map and itinerary. Just before legal shooting light is gone, you prance out onto a knoll in the middle of the field, on the opposite end from the hunter. Your massive antlers are back lit by the waning light and you know, you just KNOW, that that hunter is watching you from his treestand, well out of range, cussing to himself about "stupid deer".