3 Hard Truths About Mature Bucks Most Hunters Don’t Understand

I’m sure whoever figured out they could use ochre to leave a record of their successful hunts on the walls of caves thousands of years ago didn’t care much about public perception. Oversized antlers and horns are common in cave paintings, and while it would be easy to say that stemmed from the connection between impressive headgear and pounds of protein per animal, I doubt that’s the full story.

We just like big antlers and the deer that grow them. We also have a hell of a lot of blind spots when it comes to these critters. What makes this even worse is that we are also fed loads of propaganda around big bucks from folks who really want to shape the narrative that killing a large-antlered deer is a huge accomplishment, no matter what.

Quite a few years ago, I sat on a stand in south-central Texas with my head on a swivel. The feeder had just gone off, and the mesquite flat came alive. I had six bucks within bow range that morning that were all bigger than anything I’d seen in my home state of Minnesota the whole season.

I never got winded once, and I was absolutely snowed in with deer. The buck I ended up killing had a few broken tines, but taped out at 130 inches. Killing him took less effort on my part than most squirrel hunts I’ve been on.

We have been led to believe that all big bucks deserve to be put on a pedestal, and therefore, anyone who consistently kills them is pretty special. The truth is, a five-year-old buck who spends his whole life on public land in Georgia or Pennsylvania just isn’t the same thing as a five-year-old buck that was raised on a primo property in Illinois.

It’s also true that if you’re going to see a video on social media of a five-year-old buck responding to a grunt, or maybe charging a decoy, it’s far more likely to originate on that babysat property than it is on the public ground wherever. Because if you tried that shit on a five-year-old in Georgia, if you were lucky enough to see him, he’d probably run away from you instantly.

The prevalence and general wariness factor of big bucks throughout the country is highly variable. You’re probably dealing with a lower and cagier population than you think. You’re also probably likely to believe that the top-age-class bucks you might have a chance at are out of play for most of the season. This again, is a message that often comes from an unrelatable source.

Through radio-collared studies, deer researchers have watched in nearly real time, how mature bucks react to pressure. They don’t seem to light out for safer pastures like a lot of people think, partially because in a lot of areas, they wouldn’t be able to find a property near them that didn’t have some hunting pressure on it. But it’s also due to the nature of prey animals. Hiding in a familiar, safe spot is generally a better survival strategy than moving into unknown territory.

So, that’s what they do. Then we don’t see them, and we assume that the Lull is on, or the moon is working against us, or some other fill-in-the-blank reason.

They do move, though. They just often restrict their movement to areas where they feel safe. What this leads us to believe is that they must be mostly not moving, and when they do, they must be the most careful critters in the woods.

Yet, when you encounter a big one where he feels comfortable, he’s usually not as wary as your average doe with fawns. This was something that just didn’t sink in for me until I had enough dead, big ones under my belt to realize that their caginess manifests itself in limited, area-specific movement. And not a nonstop neurotic existence where they pick apart every tree and spend 20 minutes between steps checking the wind and listening.

The first truly big buck I arrowed was a 14-point nontypical who hit the soybeans an hour and a half before dark and walked in to eight yards on me. It was a moment that damn near made me religious, because it signaled the end of a 12-year struggle. That deer also showed me that I don’t need to rise to what I thought their level was to kill them, because they are rabbits with antlers who sometimes lower themselves to mine.

Every year, inexperienced hunters tag giants. Every season, huge bucks walk in front of folks who aren’t obsessively scouting every month. Every day from September to well into the winter, really big deer die at the hands of hunters whose skill levels and dedication to the game vary wildly.

When we believe that they are largely unkillable, we manifest that destiny. They aren’t, they just aren’t all that common, and aren’t all that stoked to expose themselves to danger. But, they are far from perfect, and you only need to be better than them once in a season to get your chance.

Now, does it hurt to scout more and try to level up as a hunter? Obviously not, but if you’re willing to put in some effort, you’re in the game and should keep playing. Remember that this season, because there are just enough big ones out there where one might fall off his pedestal and land 20 yards away from your stand.

If you’re there when he does, a lot of what you know to be true about mature bucks might evaporate before your eyes—provided you can keep your act together well enough to make a good shot, which is another story altogether.

Feature image via Matt Hansen Photography.