The Rain and the Rut

The sound of pouring rain on the tin roof of the cabin woke me long before my alarm did. A cold front had pressed through overnight, leaving the deer and my chances for hunting scattered.

My husband, Court, had strong doubts about deer hunting in the pouring rain. We would go back to bed for 30 minutes and see if it cleared up by then. Because of my work and ballet schedule (yes, it’s also Nutcracker season!), this would be my only chance to hunt at the family ranch this fall. I felt my time slipping away as the rain pelted the roof even harder.

We checked in every half hour at first. 5:30AM, still pouring. 6:00AM, still pouring. 6:30AM still pouring. We didn’t bother setting another alarm after that. Doubt crept into my mind as I settled back into a fitful sleep; my time was running out.

By lunchtime, the rain was still pouring all around us. My spirits had sunk deep into the mud that now squelched around my boots as we walked out to the truck to get some lunch.

When you’re feeling down, some small town café chicken and waffles on a rainy day really hit the spot. Even though we weren’t hunting like we had hoped, I still got to spend time in one of my favorite places with one of my favorite people, so that’s a major win.

As we started working our way back to the cabin, the rain had slowed to a chilly drizzle. On either side of the road, we watched deer plod through the mud, finally leaving the relative shelter of mesquite trees and brush.

We rushed into the cabin, suited up, and took a walk through the property. Though the rain had finally slowed down, the deer on the property were still hidden. Our walk made for the perfect opportunity to collect camera cards, though, so we could see if anything had actually ventured out into the rain this morning.

As expected, any pattern of behavior was immediately interrupted by the cold front that had blown in. My target nine was nowhere to be found; confirming our worst fears, the rain had pretty much scattered the reliable deer on the property.

There was nothing we could do but hope for the best!

Long before arriving, Court and I had already decided we would hunt a stand called Fiddler’s Green. After seeing the deer disappear from every stand, we figured it was still the best choice.

I carefully climbed into the stand with my .270, getting settled while Court closed the door, when the flash of white antlers caught the corner of my eye. I pointed just as a buck disappeared into some trees, poised to enter the open pasture in front of us.

“There’s a buck over there!” I whispered, hurriedly getting settled. The rain had finally stopped, so I wouldn’t waste an opportunity.

Sure enough, a mature 8-point buck with bright white antlers trotted out into the field. His nose and tongue tasted the air, his ears flicking in every direction searching for one thing, and one thing only; a hot doe. As he stood broadside, Court and I struggled to get a good look at this antlers, which would determine if he was a legal buck in Goliad county.

In Texas, there are many counties with antler restrictions put in place to help encourage deer to grow larger before they’re harvested. Typically, this means the inside spread needs to be 13″, or roughly just outside the ears.

With this deer’s sparky, excited ears dancing in every direction, there was no way to tell at first. He trotted around the feeder with his nose out in front of him like a puppy smelling out a treat. Every time he looked at us, his ears folded back.

Finally, he looked directly away from me and brought his ears forward. My shoulders slumped a little; I still couldn’t tell. At first glance, he appeared legal, but were his ears within the inside or outside spread?

Before either of us could make a determination, he scampered through the trees and out of view. As soon as the pasture stilled again, I couldn’t help but smile. In all my years of hunting so far, I’ve never experienced a deer rutting this much, and it made for an exciting moment.

I settled the rifle back down on the floor next to me. At the end of the day, it was always better to make the conservative choice than potentially make an illegal harvest. But Sparky, as I’ve dubbed this 8-point, would haunt me.

45 minutes later, the feeder went off in front of us. With the rain finally gone and the sound of flying corn echoing across the property, it wasn’t long before a small 10-point trotted down the road towards us. His little basket rack was far from legal, but I held onto hope that maybe his big brother would appear.

Instead, a doe and a yearling carefully snuck into the field from behind us, both of them warily watching the young buck munch on corn. A gentle breeze wafted past the doe and straight into the face of the buck. Like a hunting dog zeroing in on a scent, his head shot up and he stared straight at the doe.

Corn forgotten, the young buck pranced through the tall grass towards her in full sneak. She danced away, clearly annoyed by his advances. When he got closer, he lapped at the air with his tongue and grunted loudly at the doe. Much to his dismay, she was not interested.

Eventually, they all circled back to the feeder and continued the dance of the rut as the sun slowly sank. I had never had the chance to see this kind of behavior and I was intrigued. You read about the rut and watch it in all the major hunting shows, but I had never had the opportunity to watch it live.

It’s one of the things I love most about hunting; getting to see into the wild world of these animals. Some of my favorite moments have been like these, catching a snapshot of what they must do and how they must live.

As we climbed out of the stand, I felt a new kind of calm slipping over me. Even though everything seemed to be going wrong with our hunting plans this weekend, we were still enjoying time in nature and experiencing deer in a way that most people never do.

A tiny voice in the back of my mind still whispered, “The big nine might be out there! He might come out tomorrow, he has to!”

I just wasn’t so sure of anything except that nothing was certain when it came to nature.