When Minnesota’s firearms deer season opens Saturday morning, there’s about a 99 percent chance I’ll be sitting in the same tree in which I’ve sat for years. There’s a ridge a ways to my right, and a bedding area a ways behind me.
I’ve always liked the spot, and have seen a number of deer from it. But it’s been a few years since I killed anything there. (One deer busted me before I could get off a shot, and I missed another at relatively close range.)
So, the urge to move on has been growing. I scouted a nearby area – a few hundred yards away – a year or two ago, and figured I’d hunt there, but couldn’t pull the trigger. And, for whatever reason, I haven’t even given thought this year to setting up in a new tree.
Part of the reason, I suppose, is the knowledge that I’ve seen deer there in the past. If I move this year, I can just about assure you a buck (because I don’t have an antlerless tag) will walk right by my old stand. That’s a bad way to look at it, I know. After all, isn’t the definition of insanity trying the same thing over and over and expecting different results? At the same time, I can’t bear the thought of hunting somewhere else, not shooting or seeing anything, and then looking back and thinking my original spot probably would have produced. That would drive me mad.
So, I’m giving it one more shot. I’ll give my old friend one more chance. If I’m successful, I’ll be back next year. If not, then at least I can climb out of my stand on Sunday, give that particular tree a proper goodbye, and walk away knowing that the grass, perhaps, is greener somewhere else.