Dec 9, 2017 4 min read

While I am writing this, a few days before the deer season is done, I must admit that so far in Pennsylvania I have been snookered. Oh, I have seen bucks but each occurrence was accompanied by something that prevented me from pulling the trigger. I am sure my experience could be repeated across the state by others. To those who failed at that important moment, remember you have company.

Most of my frustration was created by the antler-restriction rule. For those who are younger – and that would include most hunters – parts of my old body just don’t work as well as they did years ago. As of today, I have seen seven bucks and didn’t shoot at any.

Three were obviously immature with small antlers. I spotted one around 7 a.m. the first day of the season but he had a spindly rack, so I passed. After all, I still had two weeks to hunt. Big mistake.

I come to those restrictions, for those of us who are grey of beard and sparse of hair on top. First, I don’t walk like I used to. I tend to trip easily and must watch the ground while moving about. This certainly is not conducive to good hunting. Second, I must take into consideration the removal of the deer from point A to the truck. Now that is two strikes against me. Lastly, here is the greatest problem of all: The eyes aren’t what they used to be. Years ago, I was invariably the one who spotted the deer. Now, I am last, if I see it at all. That’s strike three.

One buck stood back in the shadows with six others. It was very close to five other deer and they never stepped out. This buck had a decent set of antlers but stayed well back with the other. For the life of me, I couldn’t get a clean shot and most of the time couldn’t tell which one was the buck. Rather than shoot the wrong deer, I finally left and walked out frustrated and drove away muttering about antler restrictions for seniors.

Well the coup de grace happened just a couple of days ago, when I watched a nice heavy buck walking along a hillside. He was within my vision for at least 10 minutes and darned if I could count those points. Temptation, but I didn’t shoot. It was a dark dreary afternoon and I can’t help but look back on the situation and say to myself that I should have shot. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder how many others have faced the same problems? If he or she is lucky, the young hunter will face the same problems in the future. All I can say is, I have bought a hunting license for more than 60 years. Give me a break and don’t force me to quit. That end will come soon enough.

While in my personal circle it has been a bit of an off year, reality tells me the opposite could be true elsewhere. There is one slight difference from other years. It is the year of the female hunter. Ten of us were driving a small woodlot and the only buck downed there was downed on the second drive. It was a nice 11-point taken by Renee Magera of Scenery Hill. Of course, her husband and the other male hunters teased her a bit, saying the buck would have run her over if she hadn’t dropped it in its tracks. Good shooting! Incidentally, it was her first buck.

Other female hunters who I am aware of and have taken a buck are Amber Morgan, my talented friend Claire of Eighty Four, who got a nice eight out that way, Katie Babarad, who is only 15 years old, and a very large six-point buck by Bert Snyder’s 14-year-old daughter Emily. Yes, as the figures show, the girls outdid the men, at least in my group of friends.

As I said at the start, I am writing this with a few days left in the season so we rugged outdoorsmen might catch up, but I kind of doubt it. Of course, there is still some hunting to do with either the bow or the flintlock. I’ll probably be found carrying the muzzleloader after Christmas. I’d still rather be hunting than watching television.

George Block writes a Sunday Outdoors colum for the Observer-Reporter.