Outdoors Column: The Right Place

There is an old saying about success and being in the right place at the right time. Nowhere is this more true than in hunting. I have hunted my farm for enough years, I know where the deer are supposed to come out of the timber, so they can be harvested. One problem I have noticed is the deer do not always know where they are supposed to be.

 

A row of cedar trees follows the fence next to a hayfield. Standing at the corner near the last cedar tree gives a person a perfect shot into the open field when deer exit the timber. The cedar tree provides good cover but does block one’s view on that side. I always start our deer season in this spot and that was where I waited patiently Saturday morning. A light breeze was hitting me in the face, giving me the advantage of any human scent being blown away from approaching deer. I stood perfectly still, waiting and watching the open pasture in front of me. Suddenly, I had that strange feeling I was the one being watched. I turned my head slightly and saw a deer peeking around the cedar tree not three feet from where I stood. Before I could move, she bolted back into the cedar thickets, gone in a flash. I was definitely in the right place as she was going for her morning stroll. It would have been helpful if I would have been just a bit farther away, so she would not have to step on me to get into the open field.

 

Several years ago, I was bow hunting a big buck prior to the rut. While working around the farm, I had seen him several times in the same place at the same time of day. He always jumped the fence into the cedar pasture from the South Place late in the afternoon. I could get in position around 3:00 PM and wait. He usually came out near the top of the hill and made his way down toward the creek. I set up a ground blind in the pasture twenty yards from the fence. He would jump the fence and be in perfect position. With all plans in place, I waited. About an hour into my wait, he jumped the fence toward the bottom of the hill, well out of range and went about his routine. I moved my blind down the hill, about twenty yards from where he had crossed the fence. The next day, I was ready. After waiting for about an hour, I saw him slowly approach the fence and jump over, near the top of the hill where I had been the night before. I moved my blind back to the top of the hill for the next afternoon, and he came out at the bottom of the hill. I tried staying in the same place for several days and the old buck would come out at the wrong place every time. I am certain he did not know I was there, or he would not have come out of the woods at all. He probably died of old age as we never saw him again when I finally got frustrated and quit hunting him.

 

Last week, I hunted the same spot on the edge of the South Place. A flock of turkeys, one coyote, and two bucks ran into the timber. Nothing came out like they were supposed to. I was in the right place, just not at the right time.