Slow Your Pace Down While Still Hunting Deer

When Francis Mose invited me to hunt deer with him in the Adirondack Mountains, I was thrilled. Born in nearby Quebec, Mose was widely known as the best whitetail hunter in the area. He and his wife were caretakers in a backwoods dormitory where I lived with a few dozen other students while studying forestry at a small college. To give you an idea of what era this was, those of us with vehicles carpooled and were paid 5 cents per mile to drive other students three miles to the college campus.

Mose and I each carried Winchester Model 94 .30-30 carbines. I noted he smiled with approval when he saw my rifle. In those days, scopes were starting to become popular. We’d be hunting in a mix of black spruce thickets, dense stands of hemlock and cedar, and hardwood forests. Mose was of the belief that scopes were a hindrance in the thick country.

When we started off, Mose advised that we’d be moving extremely slowly, stopping frequently, looking and listening. To demonstrate, he asked me to follow directly behind him for a hundred yards to get an idea of the pace. Then we’d separate and meet for lunch at the base of a hill with which I was familiar. I didn’t mind being treated like a novice. I was one, never having still-hunted before.

The pace was maddeningly slow. He’d take ten careful steps, looking around the forest as he moved, and stopped for a full minute, listening intently. If he heard a pine squirrel or a blue jay nearby, he’d watch for an extra few minutes. A light rain had fallen during the night, muffling our footsteps. It took all of 20 minutes to walk a hundred yards.

Slow Down

We split up and I continued the hunt. I followed Mose’s advice, or so I thought. I reached the meeting place and waited, and waited. He showed up a half hour after I did. “Where’s the fire,” he said, grinning. Embarrassed, I just shrugged my shoulders. We tried another practice drill, this time walking far enough apart where I could see his red and black checkered clothing. I duplicated his snail-like progress, realizing I’d never been this attentive in the woods.

A couple weeks later I was still-hunting in a thicket, emulating what I’d learned from Mose.  I was standing quietly when I spotted just a slight movement in the trees about 30 yards away. I saw parts of a horizontal object in the shadows that looked out of place. Another slight movement and I saw sun glint off antlers. I slowly raised my carbine, but the buck’s entire vital area was blocked by a tree.

He took a sudden explosive leap and disappeared instantly.

I was disappointed, of course, but I congratulated myself for easing up on that buck. Had I been just walking through the woods nonchalantly without the intense scrutiny I learned from Mose, I’m sure I never would have seen the deer. More likely I would have seen the white tail waving goodbye in the distance.

Still Hunting

Still-hunting is unique in that it requires you to seek a quarry that might be anywhere. You have no idea where it is. Your task is to see it before it sees you, or at least get close enough for an ethical running shot if possible. Binoculars should always be carried, even in thick timber or heavy brush situations. You must have total control of your sound and movement, and always keep in mind the sound of a snapping twig is quickly forgotten by the hunter, but long remembered by the quarry.

Hunting solo is mandatory since you need to be as inconspicuous and quiet as possible. Keeping the wind in your face is critical. An animal can see movement or hear you and not be totally spooked but if it smells you it’s off to the races. Time of day is important. It’s far easier to spot animals moving between feeding and bedding areas than those bedded in the daytime. Wet woods are ideal, allowing you to walk much more quietly.

I don’t mean to disparage other methods, but in my mind shooting an animal on its terms, by outwitting all its senses in its natural environment, is the ultimate challenge. 

---