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Written by Claudia Eisenmann
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Tuesday, 22 December 2009 07:28 |
 November was passing quickly and with the conclusion of each day I wondered if I would be able to find the time to go afield during the modern gun season. For the first time in three years I had luckily drawn a coveted whitetail deer rifle buck tag in an excellent hunting unit and I really didn’t want the season to pass without trying to fill it.
The last week of the season appeared to be my only hope for some time off, so on the final Thursday before the season was to end, I scheduled the afternoon out of the office and secured permission to hunt a rugged piece of ranchland only 15 minutes from my small farm. The owner of the ranch was an old high school friend of my neighbor and he is known to be very careful to restrict access to his property so as not to place too much pressure on the resident wildlife. In fact, the owner only provided access to me because of my neighbor’s recommendation and the assurance that I would restrict my hunting movements on the property only to a designated area that I would be shown upon my arrival.
 I arrived at the ranch about 1:00pm and was met at my SUV by a friendly, smiling 11 year old boy named Levi. Levi, as it turns out, is the ranch owner’s son and he quickly surmised that I “must be the lady hunter” that they were expecting. Levi told me that his Dad had asked him to direct me to the location where I would be hunting for the afternoon, so within minutes we were back in the SUV and headed down the long driveway toward a distant prairie pasture cut by a swampy draw and steep wooded coulees.
We parked the vehicle well away from our final destination; a makeshift hay bale blind overlooking the wooded areas where deer were known to bed and travel before and after feeding in the crop fields nearly a mile away. While Levi and I were getting settled into the blind, I took note of the wind. It was barely acceptable for our hunting location and I was concerned that if it shifted further, our scent might blow directly into the coulee. If this happened, we would need to abandon our position in favor of a different location within the same area or risk our scent blowing straight to the deer and possibly spoiling this site for the remainder of the season.
As Levi and I sat in the blind watching for deer and monitoring the wind, one thing became clear: Levi liked to chat! In fact, he so enthusiastically asked hunting questions and shared hunting aspirations that I was relatively certain our trip afield would be more of a visit than a hunt. But I was also certain of something else; that the opportunity to participate in encouraging a youngster’s passion for the outdoors was worth the small price of a possible unfilled tag. I didn’t even give it a second thought when I simply placed my rifle aside and began to tell stories of the hunt to my interested new friend. In truth, I had never before seen such a highly engaged audience, and the fact that this was an audience of one did not diminish my delivery in sharing my hunting memories.
Between stories, Levi and I looked up and glassed for deer. During one of these periods of glassing we saw a buck chasing a doe across the grassy pasture before dropping into the tree-studded coulee some 700 yards away. I noted the marginal wind and grimaced. It was now 2:40 in the afternoon and with deer confirmed to be in the coulee, it was clear that we would soon need to make a decision about shifting our position to avoid detection. As I was weighing our options, Levi excitedly pointed to another buck that was trotting along a side hill and working his way into the same coulee where the previous deer had disappeared. When the distant buck vanished into the security cover, I told Levi that I thought we needed to move and move quickly before the wind’s direction revealed our location.
Levi and I gathered our essential gear, crouched as we walked down the hill until we could take advantage of the terrain for concealment, then walked across the swampy draw and up a facing hill until we had the wind to our advantage. Our new position was just across the draw from our original location and slightly closer to the base of the coulee. The new position offered a slight improvement in visibility, reasonable cover via the hill behind and a few trees in front, and a big advantage in scent control. Although I conceded that no self-respecting whitetail buck would likely emerge under the flurry of human conversation that had been the hallmark of my hunt with Levi so far, I also knew that if we didn’t get a shot at a deer, it wouldn’t because they smelled us!
The story telling resumed while I simultaneously set up my shooting sticks, checked the yardage with my range finder, and readied my rifle just in case we got lucky. The afternoon was breezy and uncharacteristically warm for late November in North Dakota. Blue skies were pocked with puffy white clouds drifting on the autumn wind. And as the sun began to sink in the western sky, I relaxed into perfectly tranquil moments; moments shared with a youngster experiencing the splendor of nature.
I was smiling at Levi’s latest series of questions when I was astonished to see a whitetail doe and two fawns emerge from the base of the coulee and begin to make their way past Levi and I and up the draw some 200 yards below us. Since the rut was in full swing, I knew there was a chance that a buck could show himself at any time so I whispered to Levi to watch closely on the back trail of the doe in the event a love-struck whitetail appeared.
When the big buck walked out of the coulee it was almost as though he had read the script. He casually walked the same path of the doe and fawns, never taking his eyes off them as he gradually closed the distance. It was obvious from his thick body and woody six point antlers that despite the limited number of tines on his rack, this buck was mature. I quickly readied my rifle on the shooting sticks in preparation for a shot.
 There were only two narrow shooting lanes on the path the buck was taking, so I needed to try to stop the deer in one of them so that I could settle my scope and shoot. When the whitetail crossed in to the first shooting lane, I bleated from about 185 yards away and the big buck stopped in his tracks. Unfortunately, I could not center him in my scope before he started walking, so my first opportunity was missed.
I followed the stocky whitetail in my scope until he entered the final shooting lane. I told Levi to put his fingers in his ears, I bleated one more time, and when the buck curiously paused and raised his head to look I squeezed the trigger of the Winchester .270 WSM and hoped for a good shot.
The big deer jumped at the gun’s report, took two valiant strides toward the doe and fawns, and then quickly tumbled motionless into the prairie grass of the draw. Levi and I were ecstatic! Not only had we beaten the wind and defied the odds of even filling a tag given our short and talkative hunt, but we had taken a truly grand old whitetail!
Levi and I have continued to keep in touch and further the interesting friendship that began on our November hunt. In fact, at the time of this writing, we have met twice for me to give him a few archery lessons and get a picture of us with the rack of the heavy antlered six pointer.
God willing, there will be many more hunts for both Levi and me in our lifetimes. But no matter where life’s adventures take either one of us and no matter whom else ever accompanies us as we go, I am absolutely sure of one thing: I will never forget hunting with Levi.
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