It was one of those November mornings in the woods: one that you could sense something good was going to happen. The walk to my tree stand was chilly and frost-covered. The dim light passing back and forth in front of me showed a thin layer of frost, as I walked steadily to the place where I'd placed my tree stand over two months ago. As I climbed up the side of the smooth maple, the first sign of dawn was appearing on the eastern horizon. I quickly fastened my harness, settled into the seat and carefully raised my shotgun from the ground via a strong cord. It was the first day of the gun season in Ohio. The tree stand I was now seated in was the same one from which I'd watched deer crossing several times, well within shotgun range, but just out of bow range. My anticipation was high as the dim light on the horizon turned bright red, and I could now start to see images in the woods around me. A few more moments passed as it grew lighter. Off in the distance, the quiet solitude was interrupted with a lone shot. A few seconds later, a second shot echoed and was quickly followed by a third shot ringing in the distance.
As the morning grew lighter, still more shots were heard. I was eagerly waiting for my opportunity, as I held my 870 Express, fitted with an open-sighted slug barrel across my lap. Off to my left side and slightly behind me, I heard the unmistakable sound of deer walking on the frost-covered leaves. As I slowly moved my eyes, followed by my head, I saw a good mature deer standing about 50 yards in the tall timbers. The deer stood there for what seemed like forever. Then the deer started walking closer, angling slightly off to the left in such a way that if it continued on its present course, I would be offered a good broadside shot. The deer continued coming and when it had arrived in the small opening between the branches at about 40 yards, I slowly shouldered my 12-gauge, eased off the safety, and lined up the sights on the deer's rib cage, just behind the shoulder. Gently squeezing the trigger, the report of the shot surprised me, and I saw the deer tumble, then jump up and fall again. I could see the white belly hair and knew it was down for the count.
As the bright red ball appeared through the tree limbs behind me, its warmth and the knowledge that I'd made a good shot warmed my body like an electric blanket on a chilly morning. I carefully lowered my empty shotgun and descended the tree, much quicker than I'd ascended it earlier. As I walked over to my prize, I was pleased to see that it was a good mature animal, one perhaps at its prime, with that big head, long neck and ears that might have been seen on a donkey. Its coat was grayed and thick, giving it more of a mature distinction.
At this point you're probably thinking that this is going to be the classic recovery of a huge-racked buck of a lifetime: that great, old monarch that has eluded you and other seasoned hunters for years, just like the ones on the hunting shows, videos and in magazines. No, my friend, this is a true account of the harvest of a mature whitetail doe: a deer foraging and competing for survival in an area where the deer herd has overgrown the land's carrying capacity and where the buck-to-doe ratio is over 10 to 1. The doe I shot that November morning in southeastern Ohio was a trophy in my mind. Today, we have an exploding deer herd population and most hunters desire antlered deer only. In a state like many others with a one-buck (antlered deer) only rule, what are we to do as responsible hunters and sportsmen? Do we do our part in wildlife management to preserve the sport we love for our future hunting and the generations to come? Or do we continue to be self-centered, narrow-minded consumers of our natural resources with a trophy buck only attitude?
Don't get me wrong. I like to shoot a good buck as much as anyone else, and I have been blessed with my share of good bucks through the years. But the situation that we have had in the states east of the Mississippi with the ever-increasing deer herd population, we, as concerned hunters, need to do our part and shoot the does to help alleviate the problem. I can't tell you how many times I've arrived at the deer check station with a mature doe in the bed of my truck only to have other hunters walk by and sneer at such a sight. Leaning back on their heels, stiff-necked and proud, they tell me, “I had about twenty does come by me this mornin'. I could have shot a big doe, but no, I'm waitin' for a big buck, at least an 8-pointer or better.” My reply is usually: “Friend, do you like to eat venison?” The common answer is, “Why, yes, I do like to eat venison.” “So,” I say, “why didn't you do your part for the deer herd and shoot one of those does you saw this morning?” This is where they get really riled up and fire back, “I told you I'm waitin' for a big buck.”
With multiple deer permits, more liberal seasons, and a one-buck rule, when will we get it? The DNR in every eastern state tries their best to educate the hunting public about the ever-expanding deer herd. But, most prideful “head hunters” just don't get it. You say you don't shoot a doe because it's only you that will eat it; your wife and children won't touch it. There are many people who will gladly take your donation of deer meat. One organization that can help you is the Hunters for the Hungry, which is affiliated with The National Safari Club. So, that idea is bunk. What about our first-time hunters, youth and older. Encourage them to shoot a big doe. Don't taint their minds with the commercialism of deer hunting and “big buck syndrome.”
In order for us to enjoy deer hunting in the future, we should all consider doing our part today. In a perfect world there would be a healthy buck-to-doe ratio. But in these times, it is imperative that we harvest some does. And, don't let any other hunter ever tell you that you are less of a hunter for settling for a doe. It takes a better person to be educated about the condition of their sport animal and do their part, than one who just wants the best for themselves and complains about it in ignorance.
