The Rut

It could only mean one thing.

I walked past the kitchen window this morning to get Jacob some breakfast and caught a glimpse of a doe running ragged through the forest behind us.

I haven’t really seen the deer in weeks.

But I knew it when I saw her, not far behind her would be a buck, tongue out in foolish pursuit.

I think all of five minutes had past before he predictably came into view, very much on a mission, weaving in and out of the thickets. I think he was a small 6-pointer and seemed somewhat unremarkable. He was moving so fast I never even had a chance to get glass on him.

What I didn’t know then is that I would see two more bucks follow in his footsteps behind him, the next one even more unimpressive as a single spike buck.

The spike, in his non-glory

An hour after the spike, came the real deal. He’s not running amok, he’s methodically smelling the ground he traverses, calculating movements no doubt. It’s not his first season playing this game. He’s easily an 8 point, with a heavy set rack.

Can you see him? His tines blend right into to the thick mess of the thicket.

I love this time of the year and the drama that happens before the blanket of white puts everything to rest. I hope it’s not the last chance I happen to see the big bucks playing their games right in front of me this season. Life is keeping me more and more away from being a participant in the woods and I’m not liking it very much at all.

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