For Jim Kalkofen, deer season is about more than harvesting a deer, it’s about building memories and carrying on traditions with friends and loved ones.

Deer seasons are more than deer. They are traditions that must be passed along. There is something about a youngster—and now, even an old-timer—leaning against a majestic oak, watching snow fall and doing nothing but exercising brain cells. And asking, “Where are the deer? What is that red squirrel chattering about? How do grouse stay warm in this crazy winter weather? How far is it back to the cabin? It’s 8:30 am; is it time for my second sandwich?”

Then, “Oh look! That’s a buck rub; will he ever come this way again?” Time to move a few steps and wait and watch again.

The woods have always captivated me. They taught me that trusting a compass is much smarter than trusting my sense of direction. It took only once to turn around “thinking” I was headed back to the truck. The woods were a refuge when hiking, on my bike, hunting squirrels, chasing bunnies, trying to drop a partridge, sneaking into a fishing hole, mapping out a remote section of a new deer area, searching for the perfect Christmas tree, cutting firewood and teaching my kids to also love the woods.

One dreary opening day, I was in my deer stand, eyes glued to where the deer surely would come. Suddenly, I tensed as the sound of rustling leaves announced a big one was approaching from behind me. It seemed to take forever, and I could not spin around, because it seemed the sound was directly below me. I hesitated to move. Finally, my head eased around to find instead of a giant buck, a slow-moving tank of a porcupine. Over the decades, coyotes, birds, squirrels and other critters played similar pranks on me.

My dad was full of advice. He told me never to expect to see a whole deer just standing 30 yards in front of you. He assured me I would only see a piece at a time. A leg. An ear. A tail. A horizontal back against the vertical trees. Only when hunting Wyoming for the first time did I see an entire deer. Lots of them. They were either too far or running hurdles as they scampered away. But, once I started hunting in the lowland river bottoms, his advice resulted in filled tags.

The glimpse of my first deer was only the tips of antlers. The buck’s head and body were behind a broken-off pine top. He eventually stepped out and my trusty 32 special barked. That moment is still as fresh as when it happened. The swamps, alder thickets, cedars, pines, hardwoods—all showcase their individual beauty in special ways. So do the creeks, the water holes, the snow drifts. Today, some could watch this via TV or computer. But, to feel and breathe it personally is best.

It was still shooting hours, but I seemed to be in the darkest room in a UP cedar swamp one late afternoon. The biggest buck I had seen eased through an opening. Then he stopped, and all I could see was his rump. My 50-cal muzzleloader was ready. But, day soon turned into night. Imagine my surprise when I walked about 100 yards and came to the swamp edge into daylight. That buck still haunts me. Actually, a number of them lived, because I never was Davy Crocket.

When I told my friends that I made a perfect shot right between the antlers, they laughed. I counted that as buck fever, and surprisingly, it still shakes me whenever a deer surprises me. In the woods, and really in their living room, they have a knack for doing just that. A person’s senses seem to come alive in the woods. All it takes is follow the advice we have all heard, “Take time to smell the roses.” In the deer woods, take it all in. The scenery. The fresh smells. Be aware of the wind. Walk into it or quarter into it. Don’t be afraid to just stop and be still. My grandfather said, “Jim, take one step and wait two.”

Learn to observe nature unfurling in the sky. What do those clouds mean? Is another snow squall coming? What about the forecast of 6 to 10 inches? Wonder what the deer will do before the storm sets in? An aviator’s Jeppesen-Sanderson cloud chart will help.

Dad’s wind lessons caused me to select Northwoods stands where my scent would not blow across spots I wanted to watch (deer would eventually follow certain runways). When hunting with friend Steve Worrall, he had another description for such locations. He said, “That is such a good spot that I have both north and south stand locations.” He was referring to what the wind would do, and how he could reduce its impact.

Enjoy the deer season. Follow Yogi Berra’s advice, “You can observe a lot just by watching.”

For more insight and tips on how to make the most of the time you spend hunting, check out the articles in every issue of MidWest Outdoors, available by subscribing on our website.