The east-west deer trail I had in mind for ground level stand hunting that morning had long been a favorite route of mature bucks that traveled about 1/4 mile east from an enormous hill to drink water at a beaver pond. Along this route, a dominant breeding buck had always made, and regularly renewed, antler rubs and ground scrapes. The only trouble this morning was, a light breeze was blowing from the southeast, forcing me to take a two-mile detour to get to the spot that I tentatively had in mind to sit, without being seen or smelled (via airborne and trail scents) by deer on that trail.

The first half of my hike was made easier by following an old logging trail north well west of that site. About a mile north of our camp, I finally turned east onto the first of the of the connecting deer trails that formed my main trail (cruise trail) into that area. I’d made the entire length of it easy to follow in darkness by placing fluorescent tacks on trailside tree trunks; they glowed like miniature Christmas tree lights in the beam of my flashlight.

After crossing a saddle on the south end of a high hill, and then a dark valley on the other side, I finally climbed up onto the rocky, spruce-covered prominence, 1/4 mile straight north of my intended stand site. Shortly before crossing an opening south of that prominence, now traveling straight into the wind, my flashlight beam revealed some freshly made, 3-inch-long deer tracks in the snow, obviously made by a mature doe. This revealed deer in this area were currently on the move, making it necessary to continue using the wolf ruse to perfection (walking nonstop with my head pointed straight ahead).

While approaching the far side of that opening, I walked onto a patch of snow about 25 feet in diameter that had been recently trampled by two mature, battling bucks (making 4-inch tracks). This was an exciting, adrenaline-surging discovery. But unfortunately, I had unintentionally tainted it with my fresh trail scents, ruining it as a spot to keep an eye on that morning.

Just ahead, the section of my cruise trail coursed through dense timber toward my intended stand site, now only about 200 yards south. It was covered with fresh tracks made by three walking (unalarmed) deer, all heading south. Walking almost silently now in the fluffy snow, keeping my flashlight beam pointed at the ground about 5 to 10 feet ahead, I also headed south, now feeling certain I would soon see one or both battling bucks on that east-west trail.

About 50 yards short of my destination, however, another patch of thoroughly trampled snow about 25 feet in diameter came into view. Just beyond it was the deer trail that coursed past my intended stand site. Moreover, next to the opposite side of that trail was a 10-foot-long swath of snow covered with clumps of black dirt that had been vigorously pawed. It revealed a large black, ground scrape beneath the 5-foot-high horizontal boughs of a large balsam tree. Some of those boughs were broken and dangling on strips of bark.

These boughs, and that swath of black dirt on the snow, revealed that the buck that made these deer signs was certainly enraged; likely because it had discovered that both he, and the doe in heat that he was accompanying (laer revealed by hoofprints, were being closely followed by another mature buck. That deer had also been attracted by the doe’s airborne pheromone, which it this case had to be battled twice in an attempt to drive it away.

Upon recognizing these deer signs and what they meant, characteristically made during the two-week period of breeding in November by an enraged dominant, breeding buck under the above circumstances, I immediately backed away. Moving slowly, I scanned the area on my right, keeping the beam of my flashlight low while searching for a spot to sit on my stool.

About 15 feet away stood the two-foot-wide trunk of a tall quaking aspen. Between it and that scrape and the churned-up patch of snow, was a very dense patch of second-growth aspens (popples) about 4 to 5 feet tall. Seeing no other suitable stand site, I had no choice. That tree trunk would have to be my silhouette-masking backrest, and that patch of young aspens would have to be my blind.

Cautiously, I stepped to the tree trunk, placed my stool silently on the ground in front of it, turned and sat down on it, and turned off my flashlight. In the dark, I pulled on my camo headnet (with a horizontal eye hole) down over my head and neck, placing my camo-blaze-orange cap on top. I then pulled on a pair of dark brown cotton gloves, thus covering all my visible skin. Finally, I laid my rifle across my lap with my right thumb on the tang of its safety, prepared to sit very still for as long as it took.

About 15 minutes later, a narrow band of light began to grow along the eastern horizon. Soon afterward, the black forms of evergreen trees around me began turning green, meaning that first light was sweeping across the forest from east to west. Another fifteen minutes later, red squirrels were churring, and ravens on wuff-wuffing wings were passing overhead while croaking to one another.

Then, as silently as a puff of smoke, a big, 8-point buck stepped onto that ground scrape. It began rubbing the sticky fluid, rich with musk that flowed onto the sides of its head from glands on its scalp, onto overhanging balsam boughs.

When I finally noticed this, wondering how long that buck had been doing this, the only parts of it that I could clearly see was its head and upper neck. That likely meant that the only parts of me it could see were my head and neck, which were being made invisible by my camo headnet.

Reminding myself to move very slowly and silently, I eased the tang of my rifle’s safety silently forward and began raising my rifle to my shoulder. Finally, I took aim at the center of the buck’s white throat patch after it had turned its head toward me. This was perfect, making certain my bullet would hit the buck’s spine—my long favorite, very humane, drop-them-in-their-tracks target on a standing deer facing me. At the shot, the buck instantly dropped from sight onto its ground scrape.

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