Calling In Bucks
When a Grunt Call Worked
Editor’s
Note: One time when I hunted in Mexico, because of the
grunt call, I held a buck within shooting range for
over an hour. I also bought myself time to see a bigger
deer. When no other trophy showed up, I used the grunt
call to position the buck to allow me to take an effective
shot. On that day, in that place, the grunt call made
the difference in whether or not I bagged a buck. And,
often calling deer will make that difference in your
hunt, as we’ll learn this week.
I spotted a glint of ivory above the thick scrub brush.
I turned slightly in my tripod stand to take the shot
when the buck crossed the fence line. But as the buck
stepped into an opening, I realized he had only 8 points
with about 17- to 18-inch wide main beams. Although
a very-nice buck, he didn’t look like the monster-sized
buck I’d visualized
bagging on my Mexican hunt. “We want you to shoot
bucks that will score 140 to 150 points or better on
Boone and Crockett,” our host had told us when
several other hunters and myself arrived at a ranch
in northern Mexico. But after the first day when no
one even had seen a trophy buck, our host began to lower
his standards. By the afternoon of the third day, he
said, “You can take any buck you want to, but
we’d prefer you bag the biggest buck you see.”
We were scheduled to go home the next day after the
morning hunt. No one on the hunt had seen a buck as
good as the 8 point I now watched. I let the buck cross
the road and jump the fence. He wandered out in front
of me into a large field of golden sage, dotted with
a few small patches
of leafless trees. Then I made the decision not to shoot.
But the further the buck got away from my stand, the
more my subconscious began to tell me, “This is
a nice buck. At home in Alabama, you already would have
taken him. You haven’t seen a better buck on this
entire hunt, and neither has anyone else. Go ahead,
and take the shot.” Reaching inside my shirt,
I pulled out my grunt call and grunted to the buck.
I watched as the deer stopped, turned and looked back
my way. He stood still for a long time at 100 yards,
while I glassed him with my binoculars. When he looked
away and started to walk off, I grunted a second time.
This time the buck turned back to face me and started
walking straight to me. “If I can keep that buck
in close until almost dark, and a bigger buck doesn’t
come in, I’ll bag him,” I thought. The buck
stopped in a small clump of trees not 50 yards from
my stand for at least 20 minutes, looking in all directions.
I never
called to him again. As long as the buck remained within
range, I had no reason to call to him. I also kept my
eyes peeled for another, bigger buck. Finally, the buck
turned to walk off a third time. Once more I grunted
when the buck had his back to me. He turned, came out
of the trees, walked out into the sage about 30 yards
in front of me and lay down behind a bush. The deer
remained bedded-down for 45 minutes or so as I continued
to search in all directions for a bigger buck. However,
as the promise of night shrouded the sun, I still had
seen no other deer. “If that buck stands up to
walk off, I’ll take him,” I promised myself.
Not having seen a buck in three days and knowing I
only could hunt for about 5 hours the next morning,
I made the decision to harvest the buck. But when the
deer stood, he walked with his back to me and didn’t
offer a good shot. Again I grunted. The buck stopped
and turned broadside. My 7mm quickly and efficiently
dropped the buck.
Tomorrow: Why Grunt
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