Gary R Akin
It had been a tough deer season so far. I’d been hunting hard for nearly two weeks and had been having a hard time finding deer. But this evening in camp was special. Pop was up with Uncle Don. My cousins Bird and Mag were here also and Rich just got in yesterday. We were really enjoying this evening in camp. Today we’d finally seen deer. All of us had, and finally, maybe our luck would change. I’d saved up a lot of vacation time from work and now I was burning it. The forecast called for snow and I can’t think of a more enjoyable day outdoors than pursuing whitetail deer with a fresh carpet of white on the forest floor. Then there was a knock at the camp door and Wayne came in. He planned on coming back in the morning to hunt. He took a seat and was offered a beer and we all started up with our usual verbal jabs, jokes and camp banter.
I was really enjoying myself and I was just feeling the very first twinges of doubt creep into the furthest reaches of my mind. It would be SO easy to stay here. I had a camp full of GREAT hunting companions. The deer were beginning to move. The rut was approaching and snow was on the way. SNOW! What was I thinking?!! And just like that I was on my feet….
Once I’d left the camp and gotten my ‘rear in gear’ it was as if I’d been put on auto-pilot. I was going to Maine! I’d left camp and driven two hours home. A good night’s sleep at home, tie up a few simple loose ends at home, mount the camper in the bed of my truck, load up/fuel up and go! Newton would have been proud! An object at rest tends to remain at rest, and.. an object in motion tends to remain in motion. I was on my way.
A long drive certainly presents one with the opportunity to analyze their thoughts and goals. Nasty weather was forecast for the mountains of Vermont so I decided to drive a longer route to my destination of Patten, Maine. By sticking to the interstates I’d have a longer drive but better roads. Also, I’d be able to pick up my Maine hunting license at the Kittery Trading Post and be allowed to hunt as soon as I arrived. As I pushed on, my thoughts returned to last year’s hunt. Rich and I had hunted hard each and every day. We had put in an awful lot of miles learning the backwoods logging roads and the terrain and cover of the land. We’d lost our snow so we spent our mid days driving, scouting and marking our maps for future reference. I was hoping Rich’s and my instincts were correct. We’d found one particular area which seemed to hold many of the attributes we were looking for.
There was a lowland brook, which was bordered by evergreens to provide winter cover. A hardwood ridge rose from this dense sanctuary where we hoped a Maine bruiser might be caught as he made his rounds searching for does when they became ready to breed. There was also a large old clear-cut which we knew would also provide browse and cover for deer. It took me ten hours to reach my destination. I must have thought at least a dozen times “I wish Rich could’ve made it.” But Rich couldn’t be here and I was. I certainly didn’t feel upset or anything. Rich and I usually hunted alone anyway. I do a lot of solo hunting. I enjoy the solitude. But this time I was A LONG WAY from nowhere. This was ‘our’ area. It was about 11 miles from the nearest paved road and involved navigating my way along several logging roads, some named, some un-named…
I arrived about 1 A.M. and after rearranging my camper for sleeping, turning on the propane for heat and finally crawling into my sleeping bag it was 2 A.M. It was also about 10 degrees outside and I was dog-tired. I didn’t feel I’d be up at the crack of dawn. My only concerns just then were sleep and heat. I’d prepare my camp in the morning when I was rested….
Dddddaaaaammmmnnnn itttttt’s cccccccold!! Why’s it so cold in here? I pulled the sleeping bag over my head and tried to convince myself I could fall asleep. No Luck! So I dug out my “back-up” portable heater and fired that up too. Finally I got my camper warmed up to about 30 degrees and sleep forced itself upon me. The next morning I crawled from the sack and was determined to find out what my heating problem was. It didn’t take long. My camper has a sunroof, which must have popped open somewhere on the way in while bouncing along those logging roads. I experienced one of those classic, “Boy was that dumb” and “That’ll never happen again” moments!
I quickly threw all my loose gear back in the truck and started driving to my hunting area and to find a place to ‘set up’ camp. Last evening I’d simply gotten in to our general location and pulled over to rest. As I drove slowly along the frozen rutted logging road I found I had to several times refer to my GPS and map to be sure I was heading toward the ridge that Rich and I had discovered. When I came to the narrow rickety bridge with the “UNSAFE” sign, I knew I was close! I must have spent 15 minutes inspecting that bridge before deciding I could proceed. Once across, I climbed up from the evergreens and soon found a great place to set up. It was not a “designated” campsite, but an area had been cleared for loggers to park equipment at one time. I hurried but was also very deliberate. After jacking up my camper and driving out from under it, I lowered it onto a heavy wooden pallet, which was supported by 4 heavy duty jack stands. Much of my gear and coolers were to be stored under the camper to free up space inside. It took me a couple of hours to get settled, set up the generator, arrange the gas cans, shovels, trash can and food stuffs. But now I just needed something to eat and I could get in an afternoon hunt.
I had finished my lunch and hadn’t gone 50 yards from camp up the ridge when I heard a vehicle on the road stop near my camper! What a surprise that was. I headed back to my camp and was startled to find the local game warden casing out my setup. I approached his truck and introduced myself to him. We had a nice conversation. He was quite surprised to find me back in here, especially alone. After talking for a few minutes during which I convinced him that I had properly prepared myself ( I’d brought along most anything I could need: chain saw, shovels, come-alongs, cell phone, etc. ) and knew the area adequately he wished me luck and bid farewell. He was a nice guy to talk to and I invited him back to check on me and have a cup of coffee. He said he’d be back after the storm and drove off. I had a pleasant afternoon hunt, didn’t go too far, but I explored this end of the ridge found enough sign to satisfy me. Tomorrow was Sunday, no hunting but I could sleep in, rest and prepare myself for a week of big-woods hunting. The forecast called for a foot of snow.
Sunday’s snowstorm started before noon. Its intensity made me decide I should pick up a few additional small propane canisters for my backup heater just in case my primary failed. I could be in here awhile. Also, I decided to call Pop who would be home by now. I reached Pop on the phone and relayed my exact location to him. I told him I just wanted to be on the safe side, I had plenty of fuel, food, etc. but in the event I got myself snowed in he’d be able to get help to me. If he hadn’t heard from me in exactly one week he could send me help. “Don’t be concerned, I’m fine and the game warden has already said he’d be checking in on me”. The drive back to camp took over an hour. I was about 20 miles north of Patten and 11 more ‘in’. The storm was definitely intensifying and it was all 4-wheel drive now. I saw my first bull moose for the trip; he was interested in the road salt I believe. Now, I was excited for a great hunt!
I spent the rest of Sunday reading from R.G. Bernier’s book “The Deer Trackers”. If you ever thought about taking a big woods hunt and were considering tracking down one of these northwoods ‘Ghosts’, this book can provide guidance and the inspiration to motivate you that “You Can DO This”.
I don’t think Rich and I would ever have come to Maine last year if we hadn’t been prodded by tales of the Berniers and the Benoits. These guys pull no punches or push the latest gadgets. They endorse hard work and honest effort. If you haven’t gotten your buck yet, try some more hard work!
With the snow squalling outside and accumulations starting to build I also decided that in an effort to keep my road drivable, I should take the truck in 4 wheel drive and pack down my road every 2 or 3 hours as far as what I could determine was a fairly regularly used logging artery about a mile and a half away. I kept this up until well past midnight.
Monday morning I woke ready to go at 4:30 A.M. It was still squalling outside but the temperatures had risen. I fixed a large breakfast with coffee and filled my thermos. I checked the large fanny pack I use again to be sure all was in order. I was going to utilize the network of logging roads and go searching for a fresh buck track. I knew with the snow falling, any track found that wasn’t significantly filled in would be fresh. My only problem was the depth of the snow would make distinguishing buck from doe more difficult since the deer would be plowing thru the stuff and the tracks wouldn’t be clearly identifiable. That would be a problem I would tackle once and if I found a track. The deer could be holed up waiting this thing out. But I hadn’t come to Maine to sit in my camper! I was out the door with enthusiastic optimism while the dawn sky was still leaden and hunting light was just now upon me.
I hadn’t driven even a half-mile when I spied where two deer had crossed my road. I got out to investigate and found about two inches had filled in the tracks and decided to look for something fresher. Another 400 yards revealed where another deer had also crossed but its tracks were too filled in. I was really getting jazzed up now. The deer had been moving thru the night and I knew that I would be on a track sometime today! The squalling snows were something to behold. One moment I could see over a hundred yards the next visibility was down to maybe thirty. I continued on looking for something hot.
It happened about another half mile ahead. There was a brief break in the fury of the storm just as I was passing an old skidder track on my right. I could see over 100 yards down the narrow alley and I saw a deer standing RIGHT THERE looking up my way! I slammed on the brakes and just then a whiteout took away all visibility down the alleyway. Did I really see a deer? Yes, I’m sure it was. The visibility returned and the deer was still there. It was a doe, like a statue looking directly at me from over 100 yards away. Suddenly, she gave a quick look to her rear and bounded across the opening and was followed by another deer, and this one had antlers! “Now there’s a FRESH track!”
Instantly I was in action. I told myself to stay cool. “Keep your head on straight, don’t blow this”. I forced myself to slow down and compose myself. First I ‘marked’ my trucks position on my GPS. I got my gear on and grabbed my rifle, I slammed in a clip and made sure I jacked one “up and in”. Then I forced myself to slowly work my way down to the track. “Take your time,” I kept thinking, “they could be right HERE!” Perhaps 15 minutes had elapsed since their departure and my arrival on the track. They’d cut across to my left and as soon as I turned to follow my mind was analyzing all the data coming in. I have a cross wind so they can’t smell me. He’s on that doe so he’s distracted. “DON’T BLOW THIS! YOU’VE GOT A REAL CHANCE HERE!” The wind was making the trees move so my movement would be disguised. The snow and its depth was covering almost all noise I made. I broke one small branch underfoot and I knew it would have been unheard only a few feet from me. I noticed also that though the deer had bounded across the skidder trail, they’d slowed to a walk only 50 – 75 yards once they were again in the woods. I worked the track slowly from about 15 – 20 feet on the downwind side of it. My eyes worked the woods for sign of the deer and I stopped more than I moved.
I had been on the track for about a half-mile or so and I was motionless when I saw something move up ahead. There it was again. A deer’s leg advanced one step. I was frozen against a tree and my eyes worked to identify which deer I was seeing. It was the doe. She was about 60 – 70 yards ahead and unalarmed. I remained motionless and searched the hardwoods for him but couldn’t find him. I knew he was right in front of me somewhere. Just then the doe started to trot away and I picked up movement slightly to the right. I “saw verticals” and my rifle came up without me even thinking about it. As I swung on the buck I picked him up in the peep and a three shot volley sent my hopes in his direction. And just like that they were gone.
I was on his track in a moment and instantly I saw he’d been hit. The blood wasn’t blowing out of him but it was there each and every stride. I probably pushed too hard initially. I was on the blood trail only a couple hundred yards when he blew out in front of me again. Another volley followed and I really don’t think I hit him this time. But one thought kept going thru my mind. “He’s hit, he’s hurt, and I’ve got snow, blood, and 8 hours of daylight!”
Several hundred yards further again he spotted me first on his track and blew out ahead of me. Again, another volley of shots. I thought I was on him this time but his track revealed no further damage. Another couple hundred yards and he blew violently in my direction and off he went AGAIN! I swear I sensed anger in his vocalization. He was downright mad at me. But this time I knew I hit him again. He stumbled badly on one shot but kept going! What a tough buck! By now I forced myself to get composed and consider what he was doing. “He’s hurt bad, he can’t go far but he’s waiting for me,… watching his backtrack.” I decided to break from the track and creep ahead so I could find him first this time. He’d only go a couple hundred yards and he’d wait, so after about a hundred yards I froze and searched the woods methodically for him. I was against a tree scanning when I saw his antlers. But that was all I could see about 90 – 100 yards ahead. I very carefully began a S-L-O-W stalk. He was bedded with his head up watching his backtrack. But, I wasn’t over there,.. I was over here! I knew that if I didn’t screw up I could end it right here and now.
I had to gain just the slightest bit of elevation to get my shot. I used a large tree to block his vision and at the same time step up a small knoll which gave me the height I’d need for the shot. When I peered around the tree, he was still bedded totally unaware to my presence 75 yards to his right. I finished it there with a single shot.
I approached my buck with an almost euphoric sense of wonder and respect. He was so tough. Cunning to the end even though he was hurt. I gripped an antler and admired its width and height. This was by far the best buck I’d ever taken and I’d done it right. I placed a hand on the buck’s shoulder and gave thanks for the awesome hunt he’d given me. “Now, I’ve got to get you outta here.” I went to work field dressing him and started to drag. I’ve never taken a buck where I fit inside his antlers as I pulled till this one. But you know what? I can’t wait to do it again!
It was about 7:30 that evening and I was on my way home when the cell phone rang next to me in the truck. It was Rich! I was still 30 miles north of Bangor, Maine.
It was great getting that call from him. I told him of the hunt. How it had unfolded and how it ended. I realized as I hung up, that even though I’d hunted alone, he was here too, now. Thanks for the call brother. Next year you’re gonna get your “Ghost” from Maine, and I’m gonna be here too.
Adirondack Camp Journal 