Here I stand, in another stand. I’ve seen so many deer, yet my opportunity has not come. Still, this morning—though cold and a bit miserable—was pure magic.
Everything was frozen when I woke up. I threw boot warmers in my gloves and shoes just to keep from getting hypothermia. I made it to the stand with plenty of time before sunrise, deciding I’d close my eyes just for a second until the light came and I could see.
The next thing I knew, I heard what sounded like a stallion coming up behind me. My heart jumped. It was a giant buck. He did a quick U-turn around me, stopped maybe five yards in front, postured up, and locked eyes with me before bolting off into the dark.
About twenty minutes later, a doe came in from the southwest—opposite the direction he’d come from. I’m guessing he was following her scent until he caught mine. Not ten minutes later, another moderately sized buck showed up, chasing her around but always just out of range. Then two more bucks started sparring behind me, their antlers clashing in the cold air. After that, a spike buck appeared, and not long after, I spotted another buck out in the field.
It was chaos in the best way. The forest was alive with movement, breath, and energy. Even without getting a shot, it didn’t matter. I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be—witness to the wild rhythm of the rut and reminded that sometimes seeing is more of a gift than taking.
