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By early afternoon, I had found a trophy-sized whitetail buck in the open aspen-parkland in east-central Alberta. I could only see part of the buck straight on, about 125 yards away—its neck, face, and enormous beige antlers poking out of the low brush, a very small target to aim at between clumps of willows floating on a natural sea of grass, promising a poor shot. What to do?
I have been a deer hunter for over 35 years, specializing in large whitetail bucks. I do most of my hunting east of Edmonton, within a 2.5-hour semi-circle of my home. Deer are plentiful here, a prime area for whitetail deer that boasts some of the largest bucks in North America. Bagging a large buck is not always possible; some years I go home empty handed.
This year my strategy was to get a draw for a mule deer doe, shoot one, and fill the freezer with venison. As it turned out, I got two tags for mulie does and by November 15, they were hanging in my deer shed. Now I could concentrate on a big whitetail buck.
I keep copious notes on when I see deer each season, when the peak rut is on, and when I shot a deer, paying particular attention to big bucks. My data and charts go back 20 years, and some definite patterns have emerged. According to my historical notes, the best days for peak rut are from November 18 to November 24—a six-day run for the ‘big boys’, who are moving all day and all night looking for does in estrus. Also, here is rule of thumb for hunting the big bucks: you need to let four to six smaller bucks go by per season in order to bag a big one.
In my area, the rut begins by mid-October, with the smaller bucks staking out territory by making rubs and scrapes. But movement is sporadic, and it is not until about November 12 to 15 that significant daytime movement occurs. The best dates for bagging a big one are November 20 to 22—a short, three-day window. I start going out for big bucks at least every second day by November 18, but in 2021, the weather had been poor, so I missed the beginning of that window.
Finally, on November 22, I headed out east in the dark and arrived at one of my favourite deer pastures at first light. The wind was blowing 15 to 25 km/h from the southeast, dictating my approach for the morning hunt. I eased into the bush without a sound and slowly moved upwind, stopping occasionally for 10 to 15 minutes at strategic points looking for deer movement.
The morning hunt turned out to be disappointing. In peak rut, you should see up to a dozen deer per half-day busily moving about. All I could see while walking was one mulie doe jumping out of its bed and bouncing away stiff-legged in heavy bush without stopping—I would not have been able to shoot it. Disappointed with my lack of success at even spotting anything in good shooting distance, I moved deep into a patch of small willow clumps before noon. I had only a narrow slot for sighting and shooting between two islands of brush upwind in a pass about 60 yards away. Thankfully, I was rewarded every 30 minutes or so by whitetail does slowly walking across this pass, warily looking in all directions. They were in excellent shooting distance, however. Things were looking up.
The whitetail doe movements signaled to me that the rut was on. I had been thinking about going home for the afternoon considering my early morning failure, but now decided to hunt for the afternoon. First, however, lunch in my car, food for sustenance and coffee for alertness. Additionally, I decided to go to an adjacent area of mixed bush where willow clumps and aspen copses interspersed with patches of natural grass. I heeded the lesson from the morning—find a vantage point, hide behind some willow clumps, and wait!
I had to walk a mile up the road to get the wind in my favour again. When hunting whitetails, the direction of wind is the single most important item on your menu. I had only moved 300 yards in still-hunting fashion when I spotted a very white patch across the grass meadow at the edge of low brush 125 yards away. Nothing immediately registered with me, however, and I kept scanning the landscape ahead of me. But all of a sudden, my brain went, ‘Wait a minute! That white patch is too white to be real and is in the wrong spot.’ It was too high off the ground showing up against a brown willow background.
Scanning back, I saw that the patch was still there, and raising my binocular, I could see just the neck, head and antlers of a massive whitetail buck, not moving, and looking in my direction with a laser stare. What to do? This buck looked as if the grand winner of the annual Horn Scoring and Sportsman Show with impossible high, light beige antlers. A tricky shot at this distance in order to score a solid hit with so few vitals showing. I decided not to shoot but to get my gun up and then steady it on a willow branch should this buck turn sideways, a broad-side shot would do. As I carefully brought my gun up, the buck unhurriedly turned in one fluid movement of 180 degrees and immediately walked out of sight into the brush beyond. What to do?
I decided to continue still-hunting all the way to a grassy pass I had scouted earlier in the season. Perhaps this big buck would travel through this pass, as he had only seen me in camo-gear, but, most importantly, hadn’t winded me.
On the way, I saw a three-year old whitetail buck chasing a doe—more confirmation that the rut was on. I let him go, as my mind was set on larger quarry.
After about one-kilometre of slow walking, I came to the pass. Picking the right spot is always difficult but important. There were several clumps of willow to choose from. As I walked up to the first clump, I decided it was too open, but I had a plan. Using an old trick that I had learned years ago, I broke a few dry sticks, the noise clearly audible into the nearby bush-country. Then I moved very quietly, 50 yards downwind for a better hiding spot and built a basic improvised ground blind.
Years ago, I had antler-rattled for buck deer and subsequently moved 50 yards down from my rattle location. Thirty-minutes later, a mid-sized mulie buck came right by me, staring at and walking to the precise spot where I had rattled from. A good deer trick to remember, I thought. He never saw me, but I had learned a lesson; alas, that day I had no mulie draw.
From my ground blind, I could see about 250 yards to my left, where I had come from, and 150 yards to my right. The pass was 60-yards wide, edged by low brush across from me. I sat for 30 minutes until about 3:00 pm and decided to stay there until dark. I had brought a blanket to stay warm and a heavy pillow to sit on. Continuously scanning to my left and right, where I reckoned the buck must come from, kept me busy. I was still hoping for that monster buck from earlier that afternoon.
Finally, I looked straight across and a heavy-beamed buck stood frozen—only its upper neck, head, and antlers showing. I froze as well, and did not dare to move a whisker or raise my binocular for fear of being spotted. This was definitely a close encounter and wholly unexpected! I could not tell whether it was a mulie or whitetail buck. He stood for about 15 minutes without a single movement and appeared to be staring straight at me. Then he just started walking, still staring intently forward but slightly to my left. He was looking fixedly at the exact clump of willows where I had broken some twigs earlier.
As he walked purposely, I studied its antlers to determine whether the deer was a mule or whitetail deer—the antler’s heavy main beam had a symmetrical curve forward from the base, definitely a whitetail buck. Good to go! At 3:15 pm, he walked past me at 20 yards, as I was carefully tracking his movements with my gun up. He never looked at me once. My shot rang out and the buck collapsed on the spot.
Dressing the animal was a quick affair and, unsurprisingly, I found that the bullet had shattered the spine even though I had aimed roughly at mid-height. I placed the liver, heart, and kidneys on the snow for cooling to retrieve later with the animal, which I wanted to get out before dark, if possible. I got my deer-hunting sled from my car and headed back.
As I walked back to the buck, I remembered a few points. Let all smaller bucks go by when looking for a big one, except on the last three days of hunting season. Go scouting early in the season and get familiar with the landscape and the deer movement patterns. When shooting at close range, the bullet is going to be high. The same is true if you are shooting steeply up or downhill. Use tricks when dealing with big whitetail bucks to gain an edge, they rarely ever make a mistake.
Considering the six busy days of whitetail peak rut, get out there and stay out all day. Stay alert and expect action any time of the day. You might be surprised by the results experienced out in the field. And, if you are hunting the big boys, always, always, always get the wind right and remember the dates for the short three-day window. ■
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