Nov 29, 2025 5 min read

At 60 years of age, the anticipation of the first day of deer season still gets me.

I have a number of friends and acquaintances that have given up or find reasons not to hunt anymore. The reasons are plentiful: “We don’t eat deer meat.” “Not enough people in the woods to move deer.” “The Saturday opener has killed my interest.” “I can’t take the cold like I used to.” The one that I hear that cuts to the quick is, “I’m just not excited for it any more.” My question is, “Why not?” “What happened?” “What are you filling your time with to replace such a cherished pastime?” I pray this disease never affects me.

I have been hunting since I was 12 years old. One of my more unpleasant hunting memories involves rising before daybreak on the Monday after Thanksgiving, to watch my older brother, Glenn, dress in the dim light of the kitchen so as not to wake the family. I was left to die a slow death as he gathered up his gear and headed for our cousin Ed’s truck in the driveway … leaving me behind. I was too young to hunt.

Mentor hunting was not even on the radar in those days. I think mentoring might be the best thing to happen to hunting in my lifetime. Hunting was simply so ingrained in my DNA that being left behind was an affront to my masculinity (OK, near masculinity.) As a result, I learned to embrace each and every facet of the game.

I very much enjoy scouting in the late winter and early spring. One can observe the paths of deer travel so much more clearly this time of year. Travel corridors and funnels and bottle necks appear as though highlighted in yellow. Rub lines practically glow in the dark. Shed antlers are harvested more readily even if chipmunks may have already begun gnawing on them. Ambush sights are noted in the journal and potential tree-stand locations are calculated with greater degrees of accuracy in the open woods. All the while we look forward to the next deer season even though it feels eons away.

During the summer months the woods fill with briars and bugs making scouting infinitely more difficult. Shooting the occasional woodchuck hones the marksmanship skills but it is not deer hunting. It is more or less a means to pass the time. Velvet-clad bucks wander along the edge of the field showing promise of what might be. We work up cartridge recipes, sight in rifles, purchase new guns. It is enough to whet the appetite but it is decidedly not the first day..

Toward the end of summer, when the evenings begin to cool and the bite of ripening apples and black walnuts and falling leaves begin to blend into the most intoxicating of scents, do we allow ourselves to acknowledge that the day is nearing.

For some of us bow season is the real deal. It’s what we put our heart and soul into and, admittedly, offers the best chance at taking the buck of a lifetime by our wits. A little luck is always welcome. Getting that buck to step within 30-40 yards of our platform is more accomplished by intent and usually not by accident. The bowhunter learns from mistakes and vows not to repeat them. Knowledge triumphs.

All those lessons learned have simply added to my enjoyment of the rifle opener, especially when I have been unable to archery hunt. The past few years have been just so. I look forward to hunting with my longbow, again, one day, but with back surgery looming, I have no guarantees. Even under my current circumstances, I am planning to hunt the first day of rifle season; can’t imagine it any other way. I only have a couple of days to hunt and then I’m hopefully hospital bound. Deer season will be on hold.

Weeks prior to the first day would normally find us brush hogging access roads, improving shooting lanes, pruning paths to blinds, changing out ratchet straps on ladder stands. The last chore that announces the rifle opener is the ceremonial changing of the haul rope. That is the marker that deer season has indeed arrived.

Having had to dispense with most of these ritualistic preparations this year because of my ailments, I am going to wing it this season. It’s my only chance. This year’s scouting consisted of setting up my chair and making sure it was comfortable enough to last a few hours on stand. All that’s left is to lay out the hunting outfit. Layer by layer, the plan to stay warm unfolds. Kit is arranged on top of the desk to ensure I have all the needed ingredients to stay warm and dry. For once, I am going light this year: hand warmers, gloves, ammo, binoculars and thermos of coffee, of course. Because I am only able to carry the bare minimum with me, I am leaving most of the accoutrements behind.

And yet, here I am, days away from a hospital stay, vibrating at the approaching first day of deer season, optimistic that this is the year. Sure, I’m a realist and acknowledge that I may come up empty-handed.

The old saying “You won’t know if you don’t go” seems fit. I welcome the slow walk in, the brightening of dawn, the woods coming to life and the sound of the crunching of leaves that signals the approach of the buck of a lifetime.

Good luck and hunt safely.

Dave Bates writes a weekly outdoors column for the Observer-Reporter. He can be reached at alphaomegashootingsolutions@gmail.com