It Couldn’t Happen to Me – But it Did

By Tom Remington

The alarm on my nightstand was signaling that it was time to crawl out of bed and get ready. It was the final day of deer hunting season and I had yet to bag a deer. I had passed up several during the shortened season in hopes of getting an opportunity at the big buck I had caught glimpses of for some time now.

I was quickly reminded of the times when my father groaned some as he arose to get out of bed. When I was young, I couldn’t understand how someone could be stiff and sore but now that I am the age my father was then, I now know the same feelings he had some 40 years prior.

The joints ached and didn’t seem willing to yield to any of my efforts to stand up. Slowly and persistently I worked to get myself sitting on the edge of the bed and as I awoke a bit further, I realized how cold the floor was. In time, I was up and about and searching for my hunting clothes.

I was pretty tired from the previous day’s hunt and I hadn’t gotten up at all during the night to feed the stove with wood and it was down right cold in the house. I kindled a fire and let the stove get good and warm before I moved about too much.

It was 4:30 am and a quick check of the thermometer showed 18 degrees outside. That was not that unusually cold for late in November in Maine. I think I recall the weatherman saying that it was supposed to warm slightly today with a chance of some snow or rain by midday.

The fire felt good as it warmed my aching joints. I grabbed two plain donuts from the box on the kitchen counter and sat back down on the stool and turned my back to the stove. Ahhhhhhh, that felt exquisite! I began to have thoughts of staying in and going back to bed but visions of that monster buck couldn’t be ridden from my inner thoughts.

I dressed my feet with my hiking boots and began to gather together my other gear. For some strange reason, I decided to exchange my hikers for my pack boots. I don’t know why I would do that because there was no snow on the ground and the walking was good. I guess the feeling of knowing my toes would remain nice and toasty was just too irresistible.

It was the Saturday just after Thanksgiving. My wife had decided to spend a couple days at her sister’s home visiting because she knew I would be spending most of my time in the woods until the last bit of daylight. I usually would leave a note for her telling her where I was going to be hunting. I decided there was really no need as she wouldn’t be home until sometime on Sunday.

I belted my waist pack around my overgrown belly and did a quick check for gloves, ammunition clip, extra bullets and plenty of toilet paper – a must for me when I go into the woods. I hoisted my .308 from the gun rack and headed out the door. I knew exactly where I was going.

The air was crisp and had a nasty bite to it. I was very familiar with the odor that seemed to sting the inside of my nostrils. Whenever there was an east or northeast breeze, it brought with it a repugnant odor from the paper mill some 30 miles to the east. This smell filling the air usually meant a storm was approaching. The thought of some light snow gave me an extra charge of adrenaline and it quickened my steps to get into the woods to my favorite spot before daylight.

I moved along quickly even though the leaves underfoot where as crunchy as they ever get. I knew the sooner I got in my seat the better I would be. The hike in to my area seemed to take little time this morning. The pace of my walk got the blood circulating pretty well and I felt warmed and ready to take my seat and wait until daybreak.

I got settled in and pulled the collar of my hunting coat up tight around my neck to help keep the heat I had generated hiking in inside my coat. I leaned my back up against the tree. I was very comfortable, as was something that was a must if you want to be on a stand waiting for deer.

The spot that I watched was a narrow opening through the spruce and fir trees. At the end of my site, a large buck pawing was visible – if you knew it was there. On my way in that morning, I checked the spot and it had not been touched all night. I hoped this would be a good sign and I quickly saturated the overturned soil with some buck lure. I retreated in the same direction I had come to the pawing from and circled back in around behind my stand and got settled in. It was still about a half-hour before legal hunting.

The air was still. I could hear my own heart beating it was so quiet in the forest. It appeared that the sky was beginning to lighten some. It would take a while before the dense growth that I was in would brighten enough to see well. I remained quiet and waited patiently. I knew that this was going to be my last chance and I wanted to make the best of it.

A check of my watch showed that it was five minutes before legal hunting began and the forest around me was still dark. I knew it would be difficult to take good aim in this light but hopefully I would be able to see enough of my target - should I have the opportunity.

The chickadees were awakening and flitting about me now. That was about the only noise I could hear. Suddenly, I detected a slight rustle in the leaves off in the distance. I sat perfectly still and waited. My heart now was distinctly pounding in my ears. Hunting is incredible. Even after hunting for over 40 years, the thought of a dear approaching still makes the heart pump wildly.

I stared at the spot where the pawing was. The woods around the spot were very dense and the only visibility I had was through the opening I had made from my seat to the pawing. It was a narrow opening but I new it could be effective if I could just get that buck to come into that line of sight.

I strained to hear more noises but I couldn’t. Any distant and faint noise was drowned out by my relentless heartbeat. I took two deep breaths and calmed myself. My deafening pulses began to wane and I picked up some more faint sounds coming from my right- from the direction I came in from.

The next thing I knew, there was a nice big head and rack of horns looking straight at me from over the pawing that I had saturated with buck lure. I had been in this same kind of situation before and I knew what to do. To raise my rifle to my shoulder and take aim wouldn’t require but only a small amount of movement. I had done this plenty of times before with success. The lack of sufficient light would be to my advantage, I thought.

It takes a lot of patience and skill to bring a weapon to the shoulder and take aim without having a deer pick up your movements. Their eyesight is very sharp when even the slightest of movement is involved. As I painstakingly worked to bring my rifle up, as quick as the deer had appeared in the opening, he was gone. I had blown my chance at the biggest buck I had seen in many years.

Angry and frustrated, I remained in my seat until such time as I knew I could make a decision based on experience and not simply from reacting to the missed opportunity. I even began to ask myself if I had actually seen this deer or not. Were my eyes playing games with me?

I decided to stay in my seat for about one hour longer. I knew that my chances were gone and trying to chase him down would be a waste of my time. Perhaps another younger, smaller buck with great expectations might be drawn in by the scent of the lure I had put out.

An hour and a half passed and there was no activity of any kind. I quietly got up from my seat and made my way down to the scraping to verify to myself that there was a deer there earlier. I got to the scrape and immediately spotted the very large hoof prints in the dirt. I was both relieved and frustrated. I turned to look back in the direction of my seat as if I was going to be able to tell what I had done wrong. I heard a distinct snap of a twig. I turned quickly in the direction it had come from only to see a big white tail waving at me as it disappeared into the thicket. All this time, the buck had been standing off to the side watching the same thing I was watching. What I didn’t know was if he was watching for me, watching for another buck to come by so he could spar with him or waiting for a doe to return to his scrape again. Whatever his reasons, strike two was being chalked up against me.

My pride was hurt and I was looking to repair the damage. I set out in pursuit of the big buck. I should have known better. I should have kept my cool and thought things out a bit more before I made a move but I didn’t. I was giving chase and my determination was to win this battle.

I moved up to where I thought the deer must have been standing and watching. It was clear that he had stood there a long time. I shook my head both in disgust and disbelief. I figured that I should still-hunt this guy. Maybe he didn’t want to go very far. It was late in the season and I thought the rut was mostly over. Maybe I had confused him with the lure and he thought he had another chance at mating with an estrus doe.

I made a plan and began a methodical still hunt. I was familiar with this territory and reasoned that I could use it to my advantage. I moved ever so slowly through small sections of thickets and openings. I did this for nearly two hours and I hadn’t heard a sound or seen anything. I now began to think this guy was headed for the high ground. I knew where there was a large ravine that lead up to the top of Buck’s Mountain. That’s where I was headed.

I approached the ravine from the west about halfway up the side of the mountain. I stood to one side for a few minutes and watched hoping that maybe I had gotten ahead of him. After a while I moved into the middle of the ravine and I could easily make out his tracks heading up. He was not running but his gait was deliberate and he wasn’t waiting around for anyone or anything.

I headed up over the ravine following his trail. I figured I would follow him to the top of the mountain and figure out where he was going from there. I trudged up toward the summit working up a good sweat in the meantime. The frosty cold of the early morning was but a distant memory to me now. I was becoming as determined as that buck to get to the top.

Once on the summit, I found a good rock and sat down to cool off and calculate my next plan of attack. I unbuckled my pack and searched for a snack. I had some Snickers bars left from Halloween, a couple of cheese and cracker packs, a few Tootsie Rolls and a Slim Jim. The Slim Jim became the first victim of my feast followed by a Snickers and finally cheese and crackers.

I was cooling off and starting to get a bit chilly so I figured I should move on. I hate to get sweaty when I hunt. The moisture can make you cold if you don’t get dried out. I ventilated layers in hopes that my movements would still keep me warm and at the same time get some air inside my shirt to help dry things out.

I picked up the buck’s track and began following it. I had been in this situation many times before and my pride and determination was really having an effect on my logic and sense of wisdom. Deep inside I knew I was doing the wrong thing but something was telling me that this time it could be different. I figured if I followed his track until he changed pace or made a move right or left, then I would begin hunting him differently again.

The buck was on a beeline. About the only thing he veered right or left for was to avoid a tree or rock. I continued my pursuit. He was now heading down the backside of Buck’s Mountain. When this became clear to me, I knew exactly where he was going – into the cedar swamp at the foot of the mountain. This swamp was huge and a nightmare to navigate but this was the place for the big bucks to go and hide when the heat was on.

When I reached the edge of the swamp, I paused for a few minutes to collect my thoughts and formulate a plan. The first thing I knew I should do was take a compass reading so I could find my way back to Buck’s Mountain. I knew that as long as I found that, I could climb back up to the top and find my way down over the front and head on home from there.

I reached into my pack for my compass and couldn’t get my hands on it right away, so I took the pack off and began digging – no compass. I searched every pocket and still couldn’t find it. Then I remembered the night before I had taken it out of my pack to do some map orienteering. I had left it on the kitchen table.

Hell, how hard can it be to find a mountain? I headed into the swamp. I was excited and anticipating to see a deer at any moment. Upon entering the swamp, I lost the big buck’s track. It was hard to follow in the moss and water holes. I made circles to the right and circles to the left. I hadn’t seen anything. I sat down several times and waited to perhaps get a shot at a deer moving through the area.

I looked at my watch and couldn’t believe it was noontime. I even began to question whether my watch was accurate or not. Where had the time gone? I sat down for another snack. This lunch was pretty much a repeat of the first snack I had on top of Buck’s Mountain.

As I was finishing up my snack, I felt something hit my face. It was a frozen raindrop – an ice pellet. Within seconds, it was raining down ice pellets and falling at a furious rate. The sleet pelted my face and soon the ground was turning opaque from the accumulating ice crystals. The visibility quickly lowered and the air began to bite sharply at my face and any exposed flesh.

I tried as best I could to keep my scope covered. I didn’t want anything to block my vision should I need to take aim. After a few minutes, I realized it was a futile effort and I took my lens covers from my pack and stretched them over each end of my scope.

I continued to hunt still believing that big buck had to be somewhere nearby. Realistically I could only see about 30 or 40 yards in front of me and now with the falling sleet, it was that much more difficult.

It continued to sleet until about ½ inch had accumulated on the ground. Gradually, the sleet turned to freezing rain. Once this happened everything became coated in a sheet of ice – the trees, the ground, rocks, blow-downs, my gun and everything. It soon became treacherous to walk. Each step had to be taken with extreme care. You couldn’t step on anything smooth. It had to be a rough surface so you wouldn’t slide all over or slip and fall down.

I began to wonder how I was going to get back up over Buck’s Mountain to get home. I hoped it would stop and warm up when the time came. I also came to the conclusion that the best thing I could do was to find some shelter or make some shelter and wait for this mess to end.

At first I considered heading over to the base of Buck’s Mountain and finding shelter there but I thought it would be too much of a risk as well as taking the chance of getting wet. I looked around for a suitable place to make a shelter. I found an ideal spot not too far from where I was standing. About 80 percent of the growth there in the swamp were cedar – the rest was a mix of spruce and fir.

I began dragging anything I could find and constructing a crude lean-to. I situated a dead piece of spruce pole between two cedar trees and leaned other limbs and branches against it. I had my hunting knife and a small fold-up buck saw in my pack. The saw came in real handy.

After I got what I thought was enough overhead and around three sides to create a shelter, I cut some cedar bows and placed them on the ground inside the shelter. The moss under foot was wet and I thought the bows would help to keep my feet dry – dry meant warm.

I decided to build a fire. I gathered a bunch of dry twigs and had to use some of my toilet paper to get it started. I kept a small fire going from whatever I could easily get my hands on nearby the site. Before I had finished getting the fire kindled, the freezing rain had turn back to sleet and now was snowing and snowing hard. The wind had also increased from out of the northeast and it was getting cold.

I gathered enough wood to last about an hour and got inside the shelter to keep the snow off me as much as possible. From there I could feed the fire without having to get out into the weather too much. I remembered a small space blanket I had kept in my pack so I took it out and sat on it so I wouldn’t get my butt wet. Now I would wait. I figured that as soon as there was two or three inches of snow, I would be able to walk okay and I would head on home.

It didn’t take long to pile up about three inches of snow. It was really coming down. I looked at my watch and it was 2:45 p.m. It was time to make a decision. I estimated it would take me about 2 hours to get back over Buck’s Mountain and down the other side and home. It would be dark when I got there. I really didn’t want to spend the night in the woods.

I quickly gathered up my gear and put out the fire. Everything seemed secure so I headed for Buck’s Mountain. I walked along looking for anything that might seem familiar. The snow was falling at an astounding rate. I estimated it to be piling up to about 3 inches per hour and it had been snowing for about 2 hours.

I calculated that I must be near the base of the mountain. I looked up and ahead of me I could see what clearly was someone’s footprints in the snow. They were mostly filled in. I couldn’t imagine who else would be out in this same area. That is when it hit me like a ton of bricks on top of my head. I had gone around in a circle. I didn’t know where I was or in what direction I should go. I sure wish I had my compass.

I knew then that I needed to make a shelter for the night. There was no way I was getting out of the woods tonight. I began looking around for another place to make shelter. As I poked about searching for a good place, I came right back to the exact same spot I had left nearly and hour ago.

I cleared the area where I had built a fire and kindled another. Once I got it going, I found more wood and began to stack it all around the area of the makeshift lean-to. When I figured I had enough wood for the night, I got into the lean-to and treated myself to a pack of cheese and crackers – the last one. What remained for food were two more Snickers and some Tootsie Rolls. I figured I had better save them. I really needed some water to drink but I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage that.

Feeling a bit refreshed and very much apprehensive, I put my gloves back on and began gathering more firewood. I had read many times that when you are lost and are gathering wood for the night and you figure you have enough, double that amount and maybe you will. I also knew that other than sitting in the lean-to wondering and worrying, gathering firewood would keep my mind occupied. If I went about it in a methodical way, I could stay warm and at the same time collect enough wood to last the night.

I don’t know how many times I had put on my little fanny pack to go hunting and questioned why I bothered. Now I fully understood. I opened my pack again and took inventory. I still had my dragging rope, a roll of orange flagging tape, two small instant hand warmers, an extra pair of light cotton gloves and a small Minimag flashlight.

As the night wore on, I got tired and wanted to go to sleep. Fear kept me from sleeping during the first half of the night but as time went on the fear began to be replaced with heavy eyes. I stacked wood on the fire and then added two pieces of bigger logs I had found on top of that and decided to get a little sleep. I lay down on top of the space blanket and closed my eyes.

I awoke startled and confused. I didn’t know how long I had been asleep. I looked at the fire and realized it was only for a couple of minutes. This was pretty much the way it was all night long. I would doze off for a minute or two and wake up to check the fire. I couldn’t wait for daylight to arrive.

When I awoke, it was in fact daylight. I don’t know how long I had slept but the fire was nearly out. Only a wisp of smoke rose from the ashes. Snow was still falling but at a much less rate. I guessed it must be the tail end of the storm. It had snowed hard all night and there was nearly two feet on the ground.

I gathered my gear together and thought about how thankful I was that I was alive and warm. I was hungry but that would have to wait. Before I extinguished the last of the fire, I watched the smoke rise from the pit. A light wind was carrying the smoke in a different direction than it was last night. I figured we were at the end of the storm and that the wind was now probably out of the northwest. In my mind I envisioned a map of the area where I was hunting. I could picture how the swamp was situated on a map in relation to Buck’s Mountain. I had to make a calculated guess as to what direction to go.

With much thoughtful consideration, the best I could come up with told me I had to go southwest. I oriented myself so that the light wind now blowing was coming directly at my right shoulder and right side of my face. I would have to watch the wind carefully as I walked to make sure it didn’t shift on me. I took the roll of orange flagging tape from my pack and sighted a tree that was straight ahead of me while keeping the wind at my right shoulder.

I quickly walked to that tree and tied a piece of tape to the tree at eye level. Again, I oriented myself to the wind and sighted straight ahead and found the next object. I walked to it and tied a piece of tape there.

I continued this action all the while looking behind as well to make sure I was keeping a straight line. I certainly didn’t want to go in circles again. What amazed me was discovering that I was much deeper into the swamp than I realized. I had gotten to the point where I was doubtful that I was headed in the right direction. I kept telling myself that I hadn’t come that far.

Soon I noticed the growth changing and I was beginning to make a climb up. The snow was deep and tiring to walk through. I was feeling better now that I believed I was heading up Buck’s Mountain.

The climb up was exhausting. About halfway, I could begin to see off in the distance and was able to pick out a few recognizable objects. By the time I reached the top of Buck’s Mountain, the snow was nearly to my crouch. Probably the rain on top of the mountain had turned to snow sooner than down in the swamp and had accumulated more.

I took a break at the summit and ate most of my candy. I knew I was beginning to dehydrate and needed water soon. I pushed on hoping to be back home before I got too dehydrated. I worked my way down over the mountain knowing about where I would pick up the logging road that leads out toward home. The beginning of the road was only about 50 yards from where I had sat the previous morning waiting for a deer.

I reached the road and knew I had it made. It was less than a half-mile to home and it was all slightly downhill and via the logging road. I turned to head down the road and looked up to see the big buck standing broadside in the middle of the logging road and looking straight at me. Without thinking, I raised my rifle and took aim. I was about ready to squeeze the trigger when the deer began to shake his head back and forth. That’s when it dawned on me the deer hunting season had ended.

I lowered my rifle and looked up at the deer. He continued his stare back at me. As two professionals might do, we nodded a knowing nod at each other and he jumped gracefully 6 times through the light powder snow and disappeared once again into the thickets.