The young hunters age 14-16 certainly received a rude introduction to deer hunting last Saturday. No sooner had they entered the early morning woods and fields when the rains came, and kept coming all day long. Even veteran deer hunters’ resolves were severely tested by the monsoonal all-day downpours. For the long anticipated opening day, it was generally a washout.
As I tried to stay relatively dry Saturday, in spite of my quality raingear, the words of the late outdoor writing icon, Jack O’Conner, came to mind. He wrote: “A little suffering goes into every hunt, and sometimes a lot of suffering.” Mind you, he was referring to the hunter and not the wild game he seeks. Saturday was a lot of suffering – unless you were snug inside a waterproof blind or such. Even with raingear on, I eventually got rather soggy by afternoon.
Things didn’t start out all that badly. As my hunting companion Jim and I headed out at first light, it wasn’t raining yet, and we immediately spotted a small buck, about a six-pointer, in the field at about 130 yards. By the time we decided, in view of the forecasted weather, to take him (we usually practice quality deer management, passing up yearling bucks like this one) the deer had trotted over the hill and disappeared into the nearby woods. Oh well, a good omen, we thought.
I settled in to my stand area, thinking “Hey, maybe the rain will bypass us.” A few minutes later and a pair of coyotes came trotting by, followed a couple minutes later by another one ñ a huge male. The male was heading straight toward where I was seated against a large ash. As he got with 15 yards, I decided it was close enough and waved him off. He spun and sprinted back in the direction he’d come from. Maybe another good omen. Then the rain started falling.
Of course, I, like many hunters, have hunted deer in the rain before, many times in fact. A light rain makes for excellent still-hunting conditions and also tends to keep the deer moving. Same with a light wet snow. But when the precipitation comes down too hard, the deer seek sheltered areas and bed down until it lets up. The initial rainfall wasn’t too bad, but after about an hour it began to really pour, coming down in buckets full.
By ten o’clock, I was severely wishing I’d brought along my waterproof popup blind and a stool to sit on ñ and out of the torrential rain.” Oh well, “ I thought, “It can’t keep this up all day long” The afternoon hunting should be better.” Noon came and went, and no self-respecting deer would venture out in this weather. Hope springs eternal with deer hunters, so I looked forward to better conditions in the afternoon.
It’s somewhat amusing how the brain works when hunting or fishing. It usually whispers that game could appear at any second, or that the next cast will yield a lunker fish. The hunter or angler’s brain is highly anticipative in a very positive way. But even my veteran gray matter began to allow doubts to creep in as the rain continued in the afternoon – in fact, it actually rained harder as the time crawled on toward dusk. By four o’clock I’d pretty much resolved that any deer would be curled up in some lowland hide-out that offered at least some shelter from nature’s cruel opening day prank.
