There was a point in time when I not only enthusiastically took part, but in some ways, I even very much looked forward to the added challenge and extended opportunity. After last year’s incident, however, I swore to never touch the stuff again.
In the final minutes of an exhausting deer season last year, reality set in further with every waning ray of daylight. Muzzleloader in hand, there were just five short minutes remaining for a miracle to happen and I’d resolved myself to the fact that there would be no buck for me — again.
But then at the far side of the field, a flick of a tail caught my eye. Shortly thereafter, the deer lifted its head and my heart raced when I spied a small, light-colored six-point basket rack. With no time to waste, I settled the crosshairs behind his shoulder and cocked the hammer.
My favorite hunting movie of all time is a comedy titled “Escanaba in da Moonlight.” Written and directed by and starring actor Jeff Daniels, the movie is an adaptation of a play by the same name that features Daniels’ character, Rueben Soady, at his family’s deer hunting camp in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula on the eve of the season opener.
While his family and friends enjoyed regular hunting success, Rueben had yet to shoot a buck in all of his 43 years, earning him the moniker of “The Buckless Yooper” from the locals in town.
One of the opening scenes followed Rueben as he drove through town and stopped next to a school bus at a traffic light. A child motioned for him to roll his window down and after obliging, the child hung out the window and yelled, “Hey look, it’s The Buckless Yooper! Hey Buckless gonna get a buck this year?!” The others chime in and Rueben sped off.
While I haven’t experienced a streak nearly as long or unfortunate as Rueben’s, I’m getting dangerously close to the end of a fourth buck-less season and trying my best to avoid a razzing nickname of my own.
I’ve hunted harder than ever the last four seasons but just haven’t been able to set my sights on the right buck in the right situation.
Unlike Reuben, I have at least seen plenty of small bucks and had opportunities to take them, but never pulled the trigger. Looking back, a couple of those bucks weren’t so small and I was an idiot for passing them up.
I’m very thankful that both this season and last, I’ve been fortunate to harvest does, which have provided wonderful meat and memories. I’ve also been fortunate to kill a few bears, several turkeys and even a moose over the last four years.
But there’s something different about laying your hands on the cold, thick antlers of a mature Maine buck.
It never ceases to amaze me how much being successful in the Maine deer woods rests squarely on the shoulders of luck, fortune and happenstance: being in the right place at the time.
Of course, knowledge, experience, skill and dedication undeniably help to skew the odds in one’s favor, but there are no guarantees. Every year, some of the most seasoned, well-rounded, and capable deer hunters fail to fill a tag through no fault of their own.
In contrast, every year, many first-time or novice hunters earn headlines in papers and social media while posing with bucks of a lifetime. It’s just the way deer hunting goes, and every year, I do my very best to remind myself of that.
For those who haven’t seen the movie, I’ll do my best to not completely spoil the ending. Suffice it to say that after a crazy night filled with antics and oddness, a single rifle shot breaks the silence of opening morning, immediately followed by Ruebens’s final line “Put on the lard and onions, Honey. I’m gonna gut you a buck.”
I wish I could have said something like that to my girlfriend, Emily on that last evening of muzzleloader season.
But, with a pull of the trigger, there was a loud snap, then a long, soul-crushing delay, followed by a season-ending fizzle and mild report as the buck ran off unscathed.
Meticulous as I am in my approach to muzzleloader care, I have no idea what happened or why. I pay frustratingly close attention to every aspect and the moment was one of the most frustrating of my hunting career.
Despite promising myself to hunt harder than ever this year to avoid a reunion with that stubby, finicky little black powder rifle, it looks like once again, I’ll join the tired, weary and frustrated but still dedicated few for one last push during the state’s two-week muzzleloader season.
We are Maine Deer hunters. We don’t give up. And so, with new powder, primers, bullets and a healthy dose of optimism, off we’ll go. Two more weeks for one last shot.
