Every fall my dad and I hunt deer in our home state of Pennsylvania as well as in West Virginia. In fact, since I started hunting at age 12, I've missed only one West Virginia deer season, and afterwards something just didn't seem right. I felt like I'd been left out of a tradition I truly looked forward to.
I spent the next year making up for it. After harvesting a nice eight point in the Pennsylvania archery season, I headed south for two solid weeks of deer hunting.
My first evening on stand I had a small five-point walk under me, but I past up the shot. That's the great part about hunting two states and having multiple deer tags. When you've already harvested a deer, it's easy to be picky.
All that week I hunted in Upshur and Lewis counties. Both counties have high densities of deer, but are not exactly known for producing big bucks. And although I wasn't exactly looking for a record-class deer, I didn't want to harvest a yearling buck just to fill a tag. Besides, I still had a week left before rifle season.
On a whim I headed farther south to Calhoun County. Several years earlier, my dad and I leased a section of land in Calhoun and harvested several nice bucks. In the three seasons we had the lease, we saw only one spike and one four point. The rest of the bucks sported solid racks. It seemed like a good place to try now.
West Virginia is unique in its diverse deer hunting opportunities. You can focus on counties like Upshur and Lewis where populations are high and seeing a legal buck is not a problem. Or you can travel to the southern tip of the state, to the bow-only counties - Mingo, Wyoming, McDowell, and Logan. Every year, large-antlered bucks are taken from those counties, but the terrain is rugged, the deer are wary, and the hunting is tough. It's not uncommon to hunt a week and see only a single deer. Chances are, though, that deer will be carrying a giant rack.
Or you can hunt counties, like Calhoun, which fall somewhere in between. The mountains in Calhoun are considerably steeper than in the state's northern tier, but nowhere near as harsh as the bow-only counties. I have a friend who frequently hunts Logan and Calhoun and he always says, "At least in Calhoun you can take a step uphill without sliding two steps back down."
The beginning of my second week of hunting, I got a late start and arrived in Calhoun County about nine in the morning. I parked in front of the gate that blocked the road that led into the hollow we used to lease. The road looked relatively unused and I thought perhaps nobody had taken over the lease. Across the road was an old farmhouse where the landowner lived. We'd always gotten along with him pretty well, so I decided to knock on the door and ask permission to hunt there.
My luck was good that morning, or perhaps the landowner just took pity on me because I'd driven the hour from Upshur County, where my sister lives, in hopes of hunting. Either way I found myself following him across the road to unlock and open the gate. I was right. Nobody had leased the land for that fall. "So what the heck," he said. "Someone may as well go up there and hunt."
I drove up a short slope, parked in front of an old barn, and changed into my hunting duds. I loaded up my backpack with the necessary odds and ends, strapped it onto my portable tree stand, and hoisted it onto my back. The load was so heavy I nearly tumbled back down the slope.
After regaining my balance, I stumbled headlong up the mountain to the right of the road. Except "stumbled" probably isn't the right word. I was crushing myself with all the weight on my back. So I stopped and unhooked the backpack. I pulled out my knife and slipped it into my belt. Then I stashed the pack in the weeds and continued up the mountain carrying only my tree stand and bow. Isn't it amazing how simple hunting can be?
Halfway up the mountain, two deer jumped out ahead of me. Two giant does. That's another thing I've noticed - the more rugged the country, the bigger the deer are.
Several heavy trails cut around the hillside, but I continued up to the ridge where I hoped to find a better spot to set up stand. During the three previous years, the best bucks we'd seen were on the ridge. Once I got there, though, I realized how many saplings had sprouted up the past year. It was so thick any buck would have to walk directly beneath me if I were to have a chance.
So I kept walking out the ridge. And I kept walking and walking. I came across several saddles (low points along the ridge) criss-crossed with heavy trails. I found plenty of fresh rubs and scrapes, but nothing seemed good enough. I wanted to find the perfect spot.
Hunting big country is tricky. Although Calhoun has a fair amount of deer per square mile, it's not exactly over-run with them. Calhoun is similar to Braxton, Webster, Pocahontas, and Greenbrier counties. Deer are present, but mostly in pockets. The key is to find the best pockets with the heaviest sign.
Sure, it sounds like a no-brainer. But when you're hunting such vast country, you never know whether you're in a good place now or if there's something better just a little farther down the ridge. By nature, I'm a nomad. That's not a good thing to be in such situations.
Before I knew it I was clear at the other end of the lease, a long ways from the truck. I cut down through one valley, up the next mountain, and walked the length of that ridge. And then I crossed over to another mountain and another ridge. It was crazy. I couldn't stop. I went so far I was certain I'd left West Virginia behind and was now somewhere deep in the Rockies.
Finally I stopped to take a break. It was either rest or pass out from heat exhaustion. I was soaked with sweat and there was no breeze. I'd left my bottle of water in my backpack. All I could do was sit still and let myself cool naturally. Sitting there, I realized that even if I did find the perfect spot, the chances of me getting a deer were slim - I stunk so bad of sweat the deer would surely scent me.
A few minutes later I decided the best thing to do was walk back to the truck and change clothes. It was almost one o'clock. I'd be back at the truck by two and still have a chance at an evening hunt, if I ever decided on a spot.
But a funny thing happened on the cross-country hike back to the truck. I got this sudden urge to return to the place where I'd jumped the two does earlier in the morning. After climbing that mountain once again, I finally decided to just pick a tree and climb it.
The tree I picked was probably the worst possible stand location. It was a narrow oak with no branches, in the wide open. Once I locked my tree stand into place, the location seemed even worse. The deer trails appeared barren. I had only one decent shooting lane. The rest was brush. However, I could see the ridgeline about a hundred yards above me, and hoped that if I spotted a buck up there I might be able to call him down to me.
No sooner had I nocked an arrow than I heard rustling up on the ridge. Three does darted to the end of the ridge, took an abrupt right turn, and headed straight down toward me. Behind them, a large buck was in hot pursuit. At first glance, I thought for sure this one was going to make record book.
"You gotta be kidding me," I said, out loud, but the deer didn't hear.
Before I could react, the three does and the buck skidded to a halt in my only shooting lane, about forty yards away. I could see the buck's chest expanding with every breath, and I could smell the rut coming off him in waves. The does pawed at the ground for acorns. The buck whiffed the wind, and then looked directly at me. By then I'd already come to full draw, and when the buck turned away for an instant, I let the arrow fly.
Forty yards, I thought. As soon as I released the arrow, though, I realized I was shooting downhill and the distance was more like thirty yards. I panicked, but only until the arrow connected with buck's spine and dropped him in his tracks. The does scattered. The buck kicked a couple times and then lay still.
A few minutes later I was kneeling beside the deer. Instead of a Pope & Young rack, though, I found just an average eight point. Adrenaline had made him appear far bigger to me. However, the circumstances definitely made the deer above average in my book.
That's how it happens sometimes. The right place at the right time. A little luck. If you spend enough time in the woods, you never know what can happen. After a whole morning of aimless wandering I'd made my way back to where I'd started and climbed a tree less than a hundred yards from the truck. At least I'd have an easy drag.