Ryan Rothstein: A baby and a buck make for a Minnesota deer season like no other

Apologies for the cliché, because I think the phrase, “a season like no other,” gets tossed around too frequently. That said, I hope you’ll indulge me a story. The 2024 deer season has been as atypical as they come for yours truly.

To describe the full ride this year has taken me on, we need to step back to late March. You see, that was when my beautiful bride informed me that she was pregnant with our first child – with a due date in early November (insert your favorite joke about poor timing/family planning here).

For normal people, having a baby arrive in early November is probably no big deal, likely no different than if a baby arrived any other time of the year. But I have never claimed to be normal, and for someone who lives and dies by his deer season, drifting wherever the wind takes him, this was a major adjustment.

As excited as I was to become a father, the prospect of being on someone else’s time for my entire hunting season was a hard pill to swallow.

Admittedly, I’ve been very fortunate.

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Most years find me deer hunting in at least three states, and I’ve been lucky to have opportunities at good bucks more years than not. I’ve deliberately structured my life to maximize hunting opportunities, and I’ve done it on my terms. But with a daughter on the way, somebody else was going to be calling the shots.

As summer faded into fall, a North Dakota archery trip fell through, and impending father duties topped deer hunting locally. By the time November rolled around, safe to say that I had never hunted less prior to Minnesota’s firearms season.

Naturally, she wouldn’t have been my child without surpassing her due date (Nov. 3) and stringing me along until the last minute. On the eve of Minnesota’s firearms season, I had two bags packed – one was situated in my wife’s vehicle in case our baby girl decided to make an appearance; the other was packed in my truck and included all my opening-day necessities. One way or another, I was prepared for any outcome.

Around 3:30 a.m. on Nov. 9, my wife made the executive decision that it was time to head to the hospital. We settled into a delivery room around daybreak, and a strong current of emotions was running through my mind.

On one hand, it was eating me alive that I wasn’t in a deer stand on Minnesota’s firearms deer opener. That date is the biggest holiday in my family by a long shot, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing out.

No matter the events that happen throughout the course of a year, firearms opener is the one constant that always brings me back to center. Sitting in that delivery room, staring out the window at steel November skies, felt like the last place I was supposed to be.

On the other hand, I knew I was about to receive the greatest gift a human can receive, and I felt horribly guilty that I was worried about deer hunting while my wife and soon-to-be-born child needed me to be present. I have never felt such a confluence of different emotions, but I knew I needed to be on my game mentally to support my wife to the best of my ability.

Ultimately, as my wife progressed through labor, I found that I wasn’t so much interested in deer hunting as I was that my wife and baby were OK. My wife was a total rock star, and she endured a long labor to bring our brand-new baby girl into the world shortly before midnight.

And so it was that my firstborn child arrived on opening day of the firearms deer-hunting season – reminding me exactly of who was in charge of my schedule from then on. Any elaborate plans I had to bag a mature buck on opening weekend were officially iced.

While holding little Ava in my arms for the first time, I wasn’t thinking about deer in that moment. All I knew was that my wife and daughter needed me, and nothing would come in between that.

We made it home on Monday afternoon, and mama and baby were doing great, albeit tired. I did my best to be helpful around the house for most of the week, but nothing could keep this deer junkie down forever.

By the time Friday rolled around, my mind had nearly completely circled back to hunting. A couple of buddies and I had made plans to target public land, and I was hell-bent on someone tagging a deer.

With a thick blanket of fog covering the landscape, the morning was mostly a bust. Being in a new area, we spent most of the morning covering ground from the truck and seeing what public-land opportunities might have to offer.

When the clock hit 10:30 a.m., we made the call to get boots on the ground. The fog was still brutal, but the forecast called for clear afternoon skies, and we wanted to be in position to take advantage if that came to pass.

Fighting the fog, we split into three different directions. With my compadres off on paths that held high hopes of connecting on a doe, I picked my way along a ridge, stopping for 10 minutes at a time to glass.

An hour later, I hadn’t covered much distance. The fog was still thick, and the cover looked too good to go blasting through it. Just as the fog began to soften, a silhouette emerged around 200 yards out. I hit the deck, and my initial instinct was that I had bumped a deer. Within a second, two things became apparent: This was not a small deer, and far from having picked me off, it was running straight toward me.

Throwing up my binos, I could see more than enough through the fog to determine that this was a solid buck, and I had better pick up my gun and find my shot before he was on top of me. As the buck approached, he started slowing down and hooked north when he hit about 100 yards.

By now, my crosshairs were tracking him, and the second he stopped, I dropped the hammer. Following a mule kick, he barreled ahead 50 yards and stopped again. Never one to pass an opportunity to anchor a deer, I dropped the hammer again, and the buck dropped in his tracks.

No sooner had this happened when I heard a shot from two ridges over. Turns out a buddy had shot a nice doe within minutes of me taking this buck. Working my way toward my buck, I was still wrapping my mind around how things had unfolded, and I couldn’t believe my dumb luck.

It was foggy, crappy, middle of the day, and I had never stepped foot on this piece of land. I had no business encountering this deer.

Sometimes, the deer gods simply smile down on you, and all you can do is appreciate your good fortune and enjoy the moment.

This was my first Minnesota public-land buck, and sharing the hunt with friends made it even cooler. I’ve had some close encounters and let some decent bucks walk on public land in the past, but finally sealing the deal on public ground here in my home state was an extra-special occasion.

Putting hands on the buck’s rack and admiring him, the only way to sum up how I felt was an overwhelming sense of gratitude. In a hunting season unlike any I’ve had prior, I felt immensely thankful to have a healthy wife and baby, good buddies to hunt with, and venison for the table.

A heartfelt thank you for ENRTF

Despite the seemingly unending depths of our political polarization, one thing that the citizens of Minnesota consistently put first is our natural resources.

This was evident again in the 2024 general election, when an overwhelming 77.2% of voters said yes to reauthorizing the Environment and Natural Resources Trust Fund (aka, lottery dollars for conservation) until 2050. It was the highest approval percentage since ENRTF was first on the ballot in 1988.

Every single county in the state saw a majority of voters choose yes. In fact, many outstate counties had over 60% vote in favor of ENRTF. Find me a single other issue that would garner support remotely close to what we saw here in 2024.

To all the outdoorsmen and women (and all Minnesotans) who voted yes on ENRTF renewal, I want to say a heartfelt thank you. Many of us don’t realize how fortunate the entire state is to have a dedicated conservation funding source like this.

Time and again, I hear natural resources professionals tell me how critical this funding source is for wildlife and habitat. Time and again, they tell me that it’s because of funds like this that Minnesota attracts top-notch natural resources professionals from across the nation, both in the public and private sector.

I’m not much of an optimist, but seeing the ENRTF renewed for another 25 years makes me a little more hopeful for a brighter future for our hunting traditions and the critters we love to chase.