It’s almost here – the first day of buck season, Pennsylvania’s unofficial holiday!
(Photo courtesy PA Game Commission/Joe Kosack)
On Monday, November 28, nearly one million hunters will take to the woods in search of the buck of their lifetime. Hundreds of school districts in the Commonwealth close school, so students can hunt with their families and friends.
Antler restrictions enacted by the Pa. Game Commission before the 2002-03 hunting season have produced the type and numbers of bucks that few hunters saw before then. Thus, there has never been a better time to bag a big buck, either.
Part of the fun of the season is the anticipation of opening day.
Young hunters, ages 11 and under, today have it good because they have the chance, through the Mentored Youth Program, to hunt when their parents deem they are ready.
When I was that age, it was truly agonizing waiting to be old enough to join my dad and granddad into the woods to hunt. I certainly wasn’t limited from spending time in the woods. Growing up with a small forest in our backyard, I spent plenty of time in the woods.
But who likes to be told you can’t come?!
However, my relentless nagging to tag along did pay dividends when I was 10.
It was the last day of the 1979 buck season, and there was a fresh coat of snow on the ground. For whatever reason I do not recall, but my dad and granddad hadn’t hunted all day, and I talked my dad into tagging along behind the house for a few hours.
I didn’t carry a gun because it wasn’t legal then. Not that I wouldn’t have loved to!
We walked a few minutes to the edge of a patch of hemlock trees, and we stood next to a large oak tree. The idea was that maybe – just maybe – a buck would wander in sight of us. A few doe did show up, and a wild turkey flew into a large tree nearby. For me, that was very exciting.
After a while, we moved to the top of the hemlock grove and sat on a log. A large gobbler walked up to us. I bugged Dad to shoot it, but he explained it wasn’t legal because the season was over.
How naive of me!
The next deer season I could join in on the first day and stood with my granddad. That man knew how to hunt! His patience – well, I’ll never match it.
When we entered the woods, we typically packed our lunches and thermoses and didn’t leave until it was getting dark. As far as he was concerned, leaving the woods at lunchtime was missing an opportunity for some other hunter to spook a buck that might come our way.
The next year, I was 12 and finally allowed to carry a rifle. I could finally have a chance to bag a buck, so it was a very big deal. We started out the morning standing at the base of a very large oak tree overlooking a deep hollow. We saw some deer, but it was very quiet. After lunchtime, we decided to move.
We were below the top of the hill, watching another spot that was scattered with small hemlock trees.
Suddenly, we heard a tree branch crack and turned in time for a fleeting glimpse of a big buck and a doe racing down the hill and into the cover of the trees before either of us could raise our rifles. It was exhilarating and frustrating at the same time, but it perfectly summed up hunting.
That was the last deer season I shared with my granddad. He died of a heart attack the following October. I wished we could have had more time together, but I still relish the time we did have, the lessons I learned from him, and the memories from those days.
Fortunately, I have been able to have many more memorable hunts with my dad, brother, and family friends over the years, and I am looking forward to more this year.
“The Great Outdoors,” sponsored by the Pennsylvania Great Outdoors, is a weekly blog by exploreClarion.com’s Scott Shindledecker. Plan your next outdoor adventure at VisitPAGO.com or call (814) 849-5197 for more information.
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