A Satisfying Season

The buck died in his bed, shot from the top of the hill. (Steve Sorensen photo.)

Back in 1965, the Rolling Stones sang "I Can't Get No Satisfaction," and it created an ear-worm for everyone of that generation. Whatever the Stones were singing about, I'm not one of them. Although life isn't perfect, I find a lot of satisfaction in it.

The 2024 Pennsylvania's firearms deer season was one of the most satisfying of my long hunting career. I took my oldest buck ever—a 6½ year old warrior, according to three experts in aging deer according to the tooth wear method.

Steve Sorensen's bi-weekly newspaper column, "The Everyday Hunter," appears in the Forest County News Journal (Tionesta, PA), the Corry Journal (Corry, PA), both part of the Sample News Group. Also the Warren Times Observer (Warren, PA), and the Jamestown Post-Journal (Jamestown, NY), both Ogden Newspapers. If you'd like to see "The Everyday Hunter" in your local newspaper, have your editor contact me.

Scroll down to read "A Satisfying Season" (First published on December 14, 2024.)

***

To access more of Steve's writing on hunting topics, go to the home page of his blog, Mission: Hunter.

A Satisfying Season 

Steve Sorensen

I hope your firearms deer season was a satisfying one. I also hope you got a nice buck. My season was very satisfying, and I did get a nice buck—but satisfaction and a buck are not always the same.

I love living where I can hunt two states, but I didn’t get much satisfaction from New York. The first buck I saw on opening day was too far away for a good shot. As for the second buck, I couldn’t see the antlers well enough to decide to take a shot. No matter. I expected plenty of opportunity during the two weeks in New York before the Pennsylvania season opener.

It didn’t pan out that way. Hunting opportunities depend on more than ticking off those calendar days that lead to the annual deer season. We wait all year with high confidence, but when the season opens a lot can happen to thwart our plans and diminish our expectations. Unfortunately, we control almost nothing. We can’t control the weather, and we seldom have conditions perfectly suited to our personal preferences. It might be too cold, too warm, too rainy, or too windy. We might have too little snow, too much snow, too little food in the woods, or too much. At least the sun rises and sets predictably, but little is guaranteed beyond that.

Besides weather, other things are beyond our control. Health, family activities, and emergencies can all change our hunting plans. It’s not so bad when such interruptions come on the same days the weather isn’t conducive to good hunting. Some of those interruptions came during New York’s second week, so Pennsylvania had to save my season.

My preferred style of hunting is still-hunting, the way the old-timers did it. They were boots-on-the-ground guys who wanted to cover some topography and see what was going on in the woods. That’s me. I’m not a waiter; I’m a walker. I don’t pick a spot and stay there stubbornly until a buck comes sneaking by. I go to where I think I’ll see deer. And Pennsylvania’s opener was shaping up to be perfect for that style of hunting.

Of course, still-hunting does sometimes involve waiting. “Stop here,” my mind commands me, either consciously or unconsciously noting some reason not to keep going. Stopping is consistent with still-hunting, and there’s no time limit on how long to stay in one place. When I’m still-hunting properly I spend more time standing still than moving ahead.

On Pennsylvania’s opener we had about four inches of snow. The temperature was in the low twenties, cold enough to preserve the snow conditions, but not so cold as to be uncomfortable. I left my truck at daylight and it was a half hour to the top of the hill. By now hunters were nestled in their tree stands waiting for stupid guys like me to push a buck by. No matter. I won’t know where my feet will take me until I crest the hill and the wind hits my face.

By 1:30 I had covered no more than 600 yards when I saw three bucks. They were difficult to see and only one was legal. After about ten minutes I decided to take a shot, the kind of shot that will either connect with a tree or drop the deer instantly. After the shot, the three bucks walked to the top of the hill. Dutifully, I went to check for blood with virtually no chance of seeing anything red in the fresh, white snow.

What’s next? The wind is right for me to take this ridge in the direction the three deer went and maybe I’ll spot the legal one. He’s probably not far away. And they might decide to go back down the hill to the bench where my view was good.

Five minutes later I looked down on the bench and there was a buck lying comfortably in his bed. His head was up and a big set of antlers rotated like they were receiving a satellite signal. I knelt beside a tree, settled the crosshairs on his vitals, and pulled the trigger. That bed he had chosen a short while earlier turned out to be his death bed.

I could cite several things that made this a satisfying season. The wind and weather were right. The visibility was great. I was still-hunting and using the rifle used by my dad—the guy who always encouraged me to learn how to still-hunt. And I shot a great buck in his bed. A still-hunter can’t do better than that.

What if I hadn’t shot the buck? My satisfaction level wouldn’t have been as high, but I still would have enjoyed one of my great days in the woods.

***

When “The Everyday Hunter” isn’t hunting, he’s thinking about hunting, talking about hunting, dreaming about hunting, writing about hunting, or wishing he were hunting. If you want to tell Steve exactly where your favorite hunting spot is, contact him through his website, www.EverydayHunter.com. He writes for top outdoor magazines, and won the 2015, 2018, and 2023 national “Pinnacle Award” for outdoor writing.