The Vagaries of Luck while Deer Hunting in North Carolina

The buzzsaws cranked up at 7 a.m., a solid 45 minutes after first shooting light. True to current form, those three-quarters of an hour produced not a single deer sighting. I’d long since come to the conclusion that I’m a deer hunting hack – not a single strategy of my own had paid off this season and now I was relying on the Deer Gods to shine on me in Sampson County, North Carolina. As I put forth no effort whatsoever in placing this stand or scouting the land or even dumping bait piles, I would be at the whim and mercy of forces beyond my control – including the loggers.

We knew there would be a crew chopping trees. As the story goes, the lady who owned the land ran into health problems and resulting money problems, and the banks were threatening to foreclose on the property – quite frankly, it’s a depressing backdrop on which to highlight my misfortunes with something as silly as deer hunting. To help settle the debt, family decided to sell the timber rights on this several hundred acre tract. Since the woods would be gone in a matter of days, it was decreed in camp to hang the antler rules and restrictions and any deer could be shot from this area, so long as it was legal by NC standards.

Gene had sat here the previous morning and spotted an assortment of does and a young six-point. He had his mind on bigger things and passed on the chances. The din of the work crew was distant enough so as not to rile the deer up too much. I pounced on the opportunity to abide by the “Brown is Down” mentality when it became available and sat coiled, ready to strike at any spike or doe that slipped out of the woods. But by the time those blades started striking pine bark, only a few hen turkeys had visited.

The stand was really a Porta-Potty on a raised platform. Gutted on the inside minus a swivel chair and an assortment of whiz bottles and spit cups, it was a comfortable perch on the border of the timber and a cut cornfield. The one problem with being encapsulated like that was it muffled noise from the outside. While the terrible, irritating drone of the saws was clearly audible, it was difficult to realize that they were drawing closer.

But the hens didn’t seem to mind, so I held out hope. Around 8, though, all dreams were dashed. I distinctly heard the snap of a splintering pine trunk and listened as the tree top bullied its way through vines and underbrush and crashed to the floor, shaking the entire stand. I slung the door to the stand open and could now clearly hear and see the crew in the treeline behind me, maybe 100 yards, and more pines waving in the air and disappearing to the ground. Deer be damned, I didn’t want to be crushed by a felled conifer, especially in a Porta-Potty.

But that about summed up how things had been going for me this year – galactic forces beyond my control pulling me further from my goals of antlers and venison. Desperation had already taken hold. The evening before in a different stand I tried shooting a doe at 450-500 yards, rough guess. She and four others bailed into a gigantic cut cornfield at sunset. They milled about in the open as I fumbled with the odds of actually cutting hair. I figured I never get a chance to shoot this far, why not? No Lead, No Dead. The bullet fell way shy of the animal, exploding in the dirt and mushrooming small plumes of dust as it ricocheted across the field like splashes after a rock is skipped across water. Needless to say, she got away and they were the only deer I saw in nearly 8 hours of hunting that area that day.

In that very stand the following morning while I was listening to the saws, Dave shot an ancient 6-point, wide of the ears by a couple inches. He’d also seen another 8 and several does within shooting distance. Why didn’t they show when I was there 24 hours earlier? It is things like this that’ll drive you nuts because when luck is not breaking your way but seems to be favoring everyone else, you begin to question your Karmic standing: "What have I done wrong? I'm a nice person!" Dave does a bunch of work on this land year in, year out and deservedly took a nice buck.

Dad's cull buck

Well, it was also a little bit more than work ethic that contributed to Dave’s buck. A cold front was quickly approaching and it switched the deer activity wide open. Dad – on his first trip ever hunting with us here – shot an interesting cull buck out of what is known as the Jerry Mack Stand. This animal, too, had been on the scent of a hot doe. Dad had seen several other big-bodied deer before shooting light that he was convinced were bucks. I just needed to lay claim to that stand for the evening hunt.

Camp protocol states that the man who has not killed a deer gets his first chance at choosing a stand. That put me in the driver’s seat, but only barely. Tim had shot and lost a cowhorn the night before. I offered him my bid on Jerry Mack’s out of the shear kindness of my heart. He deliberated hard, but the issue became moot. Travis had gone out on a feed run and found Tim’s deer thus rendering his claim on JM’s null and void. Things were lining up for me.

And don’t feel bad for Timbo – no one else ever would – because his evening hunt was a hard lesson in Hunting Destiny. My boy E-Man had been hunting the Dennis Stand for a couple days. He hunted morning to noon, would come back for lunch and return for the bulk of the afternoon. He’d put in an unspeakable number of hours in that stand that neither I nor any other member in camp would and it just wasn’t paying off for him. E-Man decided he required a change of scenery, if only for an evening. Tim decided he’d hunt the Dennis Stand.

If you’ve ever spent any amount of time deer hunting, you’re probably wincing and already know what happened. Yes, Tim killed the biggest buck we have taken on that property in the years I’ve hunted there, a gorgeous 8-pt. He was in the stand only 15 minutes. There was some muttering and name-calling later and a notable shortage of bourbon by night’s end, but all-in-all, E-Man handled it well.

Back at Jerry Mack’s, I’d settled in as the wind started whipping up with gusts in the 20-30mph range. I’ve had zero success in my life when the conditions were like this and lacked confidence that this evening would be any different. Jerry Mack’s is a large elevated box blind situated on a grass pasture surrounded by blocks of thick ash, pine and oak. If you were to take a running start into the woods, you’d make it maybe 5 feet. It’s more of a brick of woods than a block, pervasive in coastal North Carolina. But the deer love it. The only way to reliably get them out of this mess is with dogs or bait piles. This isn’t land for lock-ons or ground blinds set way out in the weeds; you must motivate these deer.

A light drizzle started around 4 p.m. as the light already started to fade. From across the field ahead of me a spike emerged from the tangle, nose to the ground seeking a hot doe. He circled the bait piles for 10 minutes or so before finally wandering into the woods to my left. Entranced by the spike, I failed to mention the buck standing in the field on my right. The Nikon Monarchs showed him to be a young 8-pt; the Nikon rangefinder said he was at 292yds. Now it was a matter as to whether I could hold the Nikon scope in the right spot with the distance and wind.

North Carolina 8-point

I’m supremely confident in my Savage 110 Tactical in .300 Win. Mag. Shot a few hogs at such ranges – and missed plenty more – but this would be my longest crack at a deer. Shooting 180-grain Winchester XP3’s sighted in 1.5 inches high at 100 yards, I could hold at the top of his shoulder and we’d be in the money. The only problem was that wind.

The buck was doing the same as the spike, though with more patience. He was seeking the trail of a doe around the corn piles. He’d pace around with this nose to the ground as the wind and rain no doubt hindered his senses. I got comfortable in the stand and nestled the rifle in the corner of the railings and the roof support for a solid rest and tracked him as he turned broadside. At that time, the wind gave me the break I needed. I squeezed the trigger and, after the report, caught the sight of the white belly flipping upwards and still in the grass.

292 yards is a good shot. I raced down to make sure he had expired and to snap a quick pic. You know that’s a decent distance when it takes almost 10 minutes to walk from the stand and back. He was what I thought he was – no surprises like being a four-point or something that'll earn lectures at camp. No giant trophy but my first decent buck after several failed attempts over the years. The next buck that walked in, while I was texting pics to friends and family, I thought would be a wall-hanger.

This buck, certainly more mature, carried a belly and swagger and an impressive right side of antlers for this area. He strolled up to his fallen brethren to size him up before he started his own search for love. That’s when he turned his head my way and I saw his left antler didn’t match – it was a forked brow tine, almost exactly like the one my father had shot that morning.

North Carolina Cull Buck

We needed to do something about this gene pool, but I strongly contemplated what would be the results of my action. One, he was at 307 yards. Could I pull off that shot again? What if someone else wants to hunt here? An act of unselfishness would weigh well with the Hunting Gods. Should I push my luck this far after being graced just minutes prior?

Well, I made the shot. Get rich or die trying. He dropped like a sack of potatoes. This time I abandoned the stand and called Dad and Uncle Dennis to help me load the deer. As it turned out, the weather only got worse and the deer movement across the property slackened by the next day. 

Time will tell if there will be any cosmic repercussions, but I was certainly proud of these two bucks and more than a little thankful. Truth be told, I celebrated a little harder that night, surely contributing to the whiskey shortfall. Plus, someone had to selflessly stay up to console E-Man and wish him luck for the next day.

The Trouble with Spikes and Culls II

This last fall I received an e-mail from an old hunting buddy and one of the finest outdoorsmen you’ll ever meet. It was a picture of a spike with a couple knobs off the main beams you could call tines, but “spike” would still be the proper categorization. The sender wrote that the deer had gray on its face so he must have been old, wouldn’t get any bigger, and needed to be shot. The deer, leggy and thin-necked, did not appear to be a veteran of many seasons by any means.

Don’t think I’ve not drank this Kool-Aid myself. Hey, when you’ve decided a buck’s antlers are puny because of an alleged deficiency, it’s not a far leap to conclude the rest of the deer’s body must be stunted too. I’ve whacked several bucks in earnest practice of skimming some scoundrel seed from the ol’ gene pool and have stood by and encouraged the death of several more miscreants deemed unworthy of procreating with my fine does.

Last time I wrote about the debate in deer camps regarding the harvesting of spike bucks. Now we’ll advance this concept to include so-called “cull bucks,” or animals whose antlers hunters believe possess a genetic deficiency that precludes them from growing perfect, trophy-quality racks. In theory, removal of these animals will sever their genetic influence from disseminating throughout the herd thereby assuring no spoiled apples, so to speak, in the future. Increasingly, this supposition is being argued as hooey.

Two resources have brought this issue into focus for me. The first is an episode of QDMA Quality Whitetails TV on the Outdoor Channel about the effectiveness of harvesting spikes and culls on trophy potential. Wildlife biologist, Joe Hamilton, discussed three factors that affect antler growth: age, nutrition, and genetics.

Mr. Hamilton suggests hunters “put genetics on the shelf.” Hunters and game managers are more capable of controlling the age structure of their herd and improving nutrition than manipulating genetics, saying that DNA’s influence on antler development is “overrated.”

Another veteran deer biologist, Al Brothers, discussed the debate over shooting spikes and posits two questions managers must consider before incorporating a spike or cull buck harvest program:

1. What are your herd conditions, such as buck-to-doe ratio, age structure, deer density, recruitment rate?

2. What degree of control do you have over what’s taken and not taken?

Analyzing the first question, Mr. Brothers addresses, in a round about way, if there’s not a better way to grow antlers. In a simplified explanation, if the buck-to-doe ratio, deer density and recruitment rate is too high, the elimination of does will increase browse, supplying more nutrition for antler development. If a deer herd is too young, hunters may not be observing the full potential in the area.

The second question is particularly salient for anyone who manages deer. If one elects to let a buck walk, what assurances are there that this patience will pay off in the future? Smaller leases and properties routinely run into this issue. Hunters may not realize the fruits of their labor if those surrounding them do not engage in similar management goals. Educating and convincing neighbors about a deer management mission could go a long way towards establishing a healthy, trophy-producing herd.

The second resource is an excellent article by Wildlife Biologist Chris Cook I saved from the December 2008 edition of Woods ‘n Water. The thrust of Mr. Cook’s argument posits that there’s insufficient research, knowledge, and understanding of whitetail genetics to justify culling bucks as an effective trophy management practice.

Mr. Cook brings a fresh argument to the table – the genetics of a doe have just as much, if not more, influence on the health of their fawn as the sire. How can you judge trophy potential from a slickhead? Additionally, he wonders how thousands of years of breeding will be erased in a few seasons by hunters?

So what causes one young buck’s antlers to blossom into those that give us the nervous sweats in the stand, while another’s poke straight up like daggers, or are broken and jagged like a hockey player’s smile?

Mr. Cook states lack of nutrition is one factor, but physical injuries to the animal may cause abnormal or underachieving antlers as the body focuses on repair. Drought and environmental factors influence growth. Also, damage to the pedicles, or the soft, growing bases of the antler, will cause malformed horns that can take a year or two to mend. Regardless, numerous variables influence antler growth and may actually stunt inherent genetic potential.

What does all this mean to game managers who’ve allowed this concept of cull bucks to seep into our culture? It means, and yes I quote Yoda, we must unlearn all we have learned. It is certainly true some bucks just won't grow B&C antlers; however, they should be allowed to age a few years before making this determination. Those big ranches in Texas that offer management hunts aren't serving up 2 year old spikes and raghorns. They are 5-6 year old bucks that have maxed out their antler potential, and are approaching the back side of their prime breeding years. At that point, it's not that much different than eliminating a few does to improve browse. Learning to age deer is the key, and the old-school methods - gray hairs, thick pedicles, just saying it's old to salve the conscience - won't cut it. The proliferation of trail cameras will be a big help in coming years. Also, I'd recommend taking jawbones of all harvested buck to the local biologist for aging.


It appears hunters can do very little to influence the genetics of a herd and may do more harm in their quest than good. Improving browse and nutrition through fertilizing procedures, supplemental feeding, controlled burns, amongst other methods, while working to reduce the number of does in the herd is recognized as the standard for growing big racks. This and allowing younger bucks - even spikes and culls - to walk will pay off in the future when seeking that wallhanger.

The Trouble with Spikes and Culls I

Harvesting a spike buck remains one of the most controversial topics around campfire - and otherwise uncivil - deer management discussions. Most people accept shooting does as a responsible practice, and hunters on trophy leases tend to agree on an 8pt minimum for bucks.

But spikes are different. Hunters as a group have difficulty coming to agreement on when or if they should be culled from the herd. Some hunters believe every one of them should be removed to prevent the spread of genetic inferiority throughout the population. Others characterize all spikes as being young (the devil horned deer) or all spikes as being old, having seen their better days antler-wise (the cowhorn). Each argument can be backed by a large number of scientific or pseudo-scientific reports easily accessible on the Internet.

What do I think? I think there is probably a little of truth in all of these theories. I’ve seen a couple legitimately ancient bucks with little spikes, and seen very young deer taken by hunters who rationalize that their horns will never get any better. If I had to lean to one side, I think many hunters shoot spikes under this latter category of thought.

The trick is telling the difference between the two; however, how can the average hunter correctly age these bucks? I get a kick out of some of these hunting TV shows or magazine articles that stiffly look down on hunters who shoot deer under the magical 5 ½ year old mark. I’m sure it is easier for guys who hunt manicured food plots in wide open Illinois and Iowa, or Loaded With Bucks, Texas, to have the time and numerous opportunities to discern an older deer from a younger one. Someone hunting a property where visibility is measured in tens of yards, not hundreds, and may only see a couple deer a year is not likely to have this time. And in fact, if that hunter spends precious seconds trying to determine the deer’s age, the experience will probably translate into a missed opportunity and unpunched tag. Many shoot first and ask questions later - or ground check, as it’s known in many circles.

The number of places where this style of hunting exists is shrinking, though. State agencies around the nation and managers of private lands are increasingly tightening the rules on how big a buck must be for harvest. The penalties for shooting undersized deer are pretty severe, keeping responsible hunters from pulling the trigger too hastily, which is really the proper way to operate anyhow. Still, private game managers want bigger deer. Public land people often want more deer, and hunters reporting increased numbers of spikes enhances the perception of the hunting quality on that land. Thus, antler restrictions have become a popular tool in manipulating a deer herd.

Just for definition’s sake, let’s say that the goal of any property is to maximize antler potential by restricting the harvest of young deer and removing genetically inferior “cull bucks.” Certainly there are other elements to consider when diagnosing the health of a herd, but these two common objectives are difficult to obtain in the field with hunters of various experiences and sets of standards.

For example, I have a 2 ½ year old, 220lb 8pt on my wall that is an excellent buck now, but there is no telling now how big it may have grown had it avoided my Summit climber that November. Based on his behavior and size at the time, I guessed he’d go 3 ½ to 4 years. But I was glassing through the pines, bucks in this area are notoriously nocturnal, and there stood the biggest buck I'd seen in Georgia up to that point. Bang!


Under the theory that bucks should be 5 ½ years before harvest, I screwed up huge. He certainly was big enough to satisfy the rules of the club, but I’ve been reminded time and again that I should have let this buck go. In Kansas, I probably would have. In Georgia where the bucks are spooky, come out of nowhere and return there in a hurry, he is going to the ground every time.

The same year I took this buck, I was forced by club rules to pass on an assortment of spike and ragged horn bucks. To my best guess, they ranged from 1-3 years old; however, their antlers came nowhere close to the 8pt’s, and I doubt they ever would. But I messed up judging the 8pt so how do I know if my opinion is worth anything on these deer?

This is the purpose of antler restrictions - especially on privately managed land. If you have an 8pt that meets or exceeds a 15 inch spread, it’s not likely that deer is getting any smaller in the coming years. Then you have an assortment of misfits that may or may not become anything in the coming seasons. What you don’t want is a paying hunter or club member to tell you how experienced they are and leave it to them to dictate what a cull buck may be or declaring that any smaller buck that doesn't sport a symmetrical basket rack should head to the cooler.

We often have to live with the knowledge that antlers usually aren’t a great indication of age or trophy potential. A decent number of supposedly genetically inferior deer will be allowed to walk in a given season, while some future bruisers are going to be taken too early. It’s the nature of the business in a lot of places.

I’m not really sure if any management system - outside of large private ranches see: Texas - can adequately balance the health of a herd and the needs of the hunters. Too restrictive of a plan on WMA’s and hunters will go elsewhere and game departments will lose money. Too relaxed of a plan will result in a high, unhealthy harvest of young deer.

So what should you take from all of this? Public land and hunt club game managers have their hands tied when trying to realize everyone’s goals whether it is managing a deer herd or satisfying hunters’ desires. If you don’t want to be on a lease or hunt a game plantation that institutes antler restrictions, look elsewhere. If you hunt public land and see a spike and it’s legal to harvest, pull that trigger and don’t apologize to anyone.


As for me, well, I know I’ve not shot my last spike – by accident or otherwise - but I need more of a reason to do so than in the past. The doe season in Florida has been lengthened, and the other southern states have very liberal doe harvests. They are typically better on the dinner plate anyhow, and I know they won’t be growing any large antlers in the future.