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He'll Be Back – and Hopes Deer Will Be, Too

October 22, 2008 -

Kansas has an early muzzleloader season. I first learned about it several years back while there on a November bowhunt. My guide was showing video clips of some of the bucks we'd be hunting. He'd shot the video in late September, while the bucks were still in bachelor groups and on very regular daily movement patterns.

"They come out in the same fields every evening," he said, "usually on the same trails." I said something to the effect that it's too bad they don't do that during the (hunting) season. That's when he mentioned offhandedly that the video was shot during muzzleloader season. I vowed then and there that one day I would hunt that season.

My chance finally came this year when old friend Clay White invited me down to hunt some properties his company, Rutwear, leases in southeastern Kansas. Clay, Rutwear co-owner Bobby Windham, sales manager Johnny Shaw and I would be hunting several farms in Labette County. Arthur Closs, who owns one of the farms and had kept an eye on the local deer activity, would serve as our informal guide. His efforts paid off the first evening when Bobby killed a nice 12-pointer on a hilltop stand.

On the surface, the stand seemed to offer little. It was a good quarter-mile to the nearest agricultural field, where we anticipated intercepting the deer. And most folks would probably shy away due to the recent disturbance, and the fact that a good buck had already been removed. I reasoned otherwise. Where there's one good buck there are often others, especially in early fall when bucks are still traveling in bachelor groups. I also got another very important bit of information. The stand overlooked a persimmon patch.

Unless they've hunted south of New England, most folks are probably not familiar with the persimmon, or its significance. Its scientific name, Diospyrus, means fruit of the gods; and for a hunter, it is. When green, the persimmon fruit is hard and bitter. One bite and your mouth will pucker up like a suction cup. Upon ripening it becomes soft and sweet, with the taste and consistency of orange marmalade. To deer, and just about every other fruit- and vegetable-eating critter, they are irresistible. At least that's what I'd been told. My skepticism was about to be challenged.

The first buck showed up early, about 6:30. Just about anywhere else I would not have hesitated, but this was Kansas. I studied his rack through my binos. The antlers began as thick, gnarly bases, and carried their mass well out on the beams, which spread a good inch or more outside the buck's ears. The brow tines where short, but the G2s and G3s were tall; and the left side carried a short, additional point. Considering the mass, spread and tine length, I estimated the nine-pointer to be in the mid 130s, perhaps nudging 140 inches. I could tell by his face and body size and shape however that he was only 3.5 years old. I would wait for a bigger, older buck. The nine-point fed under the persimmon patch for some time, until something spooked him and he ran off. I would later learn why.

It was nearly a half-hour before the next deer showed up, a doe and her fawn. They began what would become one of the most amazing processions I'd ever witnessed. Soon, more does joined them, followed by several smaller bucks: a spike and a six-point with small brow tines and forked beams. The bucks soon ran the does off and the bachelor's club was open for business. One by one they materialized out of the thick brush: a couple of very healthy yearling eight-pointers, a basket-rack eight, a buck with one good side and a crab-clawed non-typical beam on the other. My pulse quickened as each new buck entered the scene.

A movement off to the left caught my eye. It was the nine-point and he was running again. Hot on his tail was a bigger-bodied but smaller-racked eight with a broken G2. The battle for domination had obviously begun, at least among the older deer, and it wouldn't be long before the bachelor groups disbanded. One estrus doe would change the scene from peaceful male bonding to an all-out melee. In the meantime, I would enjoy the show. The only thing I shot that evening was pictures, and with one day remaining there was little doubt where I would spend it.

I got in well before daylight the next morning and somehow managed to ascend the stand without scaring off the deer. For nearly 30 minutes I listened their movements as they fed on ripe persimmons. At one point I heard a rubbing sound and with my Nikon binoculars I could barely make out the silhouette of a large-bodied deer grinding his antlers into the bole of a persimmon. His efforts went on for a solid 10 minutes, but he faded into the gloom before it was light enough to properly size up his rack.

The rest of that morning and through the afternoon I was treated to nearly nonstop entertainment. I saw at least 10 individual bucks, and watched them feed, rub and spar. I studied their racks and their interactions with other bucks and with does. It was truly amazing. The big boy never showed up, so I never pulled the trigger. However, my tag's still good and I'll be going back in December. Too bad the persimmons will all be gone.

Bob Humphrey is a freelance writer and Registered Maine Guide who lives in Pownal. He can be contacted at sportventures@juno.com

BOB HUMPHREY, Portland Press Herald, October 16, 2008


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