Just how good do deer hunters have it?
By By Otha Barham / outdoors editor
Jan. 16, 2004
One of the longest running slogans for a commercial product has been the one coined by Maxwell House coffee. They claim their coffee is "good to the last drop."
The catchphrase not only guides the consumer to think of great taste during the coffee drinking experience, but also to visualize the coffee drinker seeking to get that last, tasty drop out of a cup.
The deer seasons in Mississippi and Alabama strike me the same way. They are good to the last day. Think about it. Is there a dull period during our deer season that makes you just want to stay home and wait for things to get better? Not for me. From beginning to end, its all good.
Mississippi's bow season is long and, for those who like to watch nature in the fall, delightful. October comes at last and we can get into the woods to actually hunt deer after an eight month wait. There is plenty of time during the generous season so we can hunt relaxed, resting a day or two, or we can go every day and soak up hundreds of hours. Whatever suits our style.
And we can scout to our heart's content during the archery days. Scrapes and rubs and tracks jump out at us everywhere. We see them in our sleep.
Special hunt
Next, the youth deer hunt. Two days set aside for young hunters to have an opportunity to take a deer ahead of the crowd. What a great idea! It's a time to teach and to learn. A time when we can give our youth our undivided attention. Adults I know can hardly wait for that weekend. Don't think for a minute it is just for the youngsters.
Then comes gun season when the stand hunters and stalkers can hunt the relatively undisturbed deer. Crafty bucks haven't yet been spooked into their thick hideouts by hoards of rifle-toting hunters. There is a good chance of taking one before he becomes hunter-wary.
Also, dog hunting clubs can loose their packs in their favorite covers and thrill once again to the sounds and excitement of the chase. The hound men listen to the music, then go find the dogs, rest and feed them, and rush to turn them out again. The standers reap the rewards frantic races that come their way, the sounds of hooves crunching leaves and antlers snapping pine limbs, challenging shots at streaking targets.
And then the black powder season is upon us, satisfying us with the silent woods that remind us of archery season. And challenging us to take careful aim, holding dead on, to make that one single shot count. We watch a plume of white smoke gush out of our rifle barrel and hear a clap of thunder as a spark lights a handful of ancient powder. Wow!
Then, in mid-December, we add modern guns to that scene and finally get to take a shot at the buck that always crossed the other end of the big cutover or soybean field or oat planting that we watched during the primitive weapon season. Signs of the rut raise our interest and we dig out our grunt tubes and bottles of scents.
Christmas gift
On Christmas Eve, the men with rested and healed hounds can cast them once again. A wild mix of rutting deer and racing dogs ensues. In the dogless clubs and on thousands of small private parcels, stand hunters watch the backtrail of every single doe that comes by. They spray themselves with scent killer and dose nearby scrapes with lures that raise their hopes. They rattle cast antlers and blow grunt tubes.
Bucks are chasing does, and it can go on for another month or more, and so we have another one of those long stretches when there is plenty of time to spend hours, even days, in the woods. The foliage has thinned from heavy frosts, wind and rain. We can see well from our tree stands. Acorns are gone, browse is scarce and green fields have been heavily grazed. Bucks will have to move to find food. And the rut lingers for many of them. It's a fine time to be deer hunting.
Icing on the hunter's cake comes along during the last nine days of January. Archers and smoke pole shooters get yet another hunt just for them. All is quiet in the woods. We envision hungry, lusty bucks venturing forth and slipping past our stand; our last chance, but a very good one. "It's now or never," we tell ourselves, as if next season is so far off as to be non-existent, and too perhaps to sweeten that moment of success should fate let it happen.
Yes fellow hunters, it's all good. Good to the last drop.
