“ONE RUB TOO MANY”

The saying goes, “A rub is where a buck has been and a scrape is where a buck is going to be.”  Unfortunately, that first sentence can be highly misleading for those who would tend to buy the whole package as the gospel truth, no questions asked.  This ingrained mind set, passed on from one generation to the next, mine included, often leads a complacent hunter into ignoring the signs during the most critical pre-rut/rut stages.  The buck’s weakest known defensive moment.  Many learning years afield, and volumes of stored data has taught us otherwise, along with a very successful new tactic.  Surely it must have been the late summer/early fall rub that gave birth to such a fallacy.  Message-wise, this once a year type rub serves no significance whatsoever, to either man or beast, other that to the animal who had relieved himself of his velvet, along with itch.  We view all other fresh rubs as important social statements, with scent added for emphasis.  While we realize that these messages are meant for “Deer eyes/nose only”, we constantly try to decipher the inner secrets of their meaning.  Especially when found in areas lacking the necessary mean for survival.  Although we can never hope to crack the super secret scent code in it’s entirety, we have been fortunate enough to, if you will…shoot the messenger on several occasions.  Contrary to popular belief, many big bucks don’t have even bother wasting their limited time on silly formalities such as scraps, that option is theirs, and theirs alone.  They simply follow their nose to wherever it may take them.  Sometimes our first inkling of a new buck’s presence during the pre-rut/rut phrase is a fresh rub or two (this is not to be confused with a series of rubs, or a normal rub line) found on larger trees.  Rubs found on smaller trees are usually associated with smaller bucks, but that’s not written in stone either, so to be absolutely certain we measure hoof prints, height from the ground to the first tine mark on the tree, then we measure the ground distance from the tree to where the buck plants his front hooves.  These measurements give us some idea of a buck’s size and the height of his antlers.  This method is more reliable than DNA testing, just ask Johnny, Robert, or Barry.  Once discovered, the rub is taken as a formal declaration of a buck’s 24-48 hour “NOTICE OF INTENT”.  That to us, means this buck has scented a doe who is on the verge of estrus, and that he is more that willing to wait around to defend her honor, and at the first opportune moment, he will then offer her his exclusive services.  It was early noon when I came upon a single rub that had not been there in the morning.  As luck would have it, my son Greg was due in from Beaverton and my other son, Freddy J., was due in from Dearborn, both within the hour of this lucky discovery.  Since we knew so very little of this transient buck, other than he was a possible trophy, and as always, time was of the essence, we would team up on him.  Trophy hunting is usually a compromising 50% patterning, and 50% positioning, but given a situation such as this, it then becomes 100% positioning and that’s where team- work comes in real handy.  All travel routes to the staging area must be covered, if possible.  The staging area (near the rub) itself is off limits to us because the targeted doe will more that likely be traveling or visiting with her family units, and that’s too many eyes, ears, and noses to suit us.  Greg and Freddy would pour over the topo maps and aerial photographs with overlays (neighboring boundary lines) to work out the technical logistics (all probable travel routes that may appeal to a trophy buck.) We knew what drew the buck to this area, so as the foot soldier, my duty was to determine what had drew the doe to this area, and whatever it was, was it sufficient enough to lure her back, with or without the buck in tow?  We would also need to know from a ground perspective roughly how many options the buck had at his disposal in traveling to or form the staging area?  After all was said and done, the attraction turned out to be four oak trees laden with acorns.  After a further exchange of information with my sons, we generally agreed that the buck had seven different travel routes or corridors leading to or from this area.  Those odds were unacceptable to us; we needed a solution that would narrow the odds more in our favor.  By nature deer are lazy and curious, why not use his own vices against him?  We chose the one oak that would give us the wind advantage, along with its close proximity to the heavy cover preferred by big bucks.  We hen cleared all of the leaves from under the tree exposing thousands of acorns, with a leaf blower.  The dinner bell had been rung, that soothing chainsaw sound was music to their ears.   The stage had been set for the morning’s hunt, the odds were down to four routes/ three hunters, and the strands were hung.  It was a bit too early to see yet, and with this long wait came boredom which soon turned into self-appraisal, and like most hunters in this predicament, self-doubt began to flow in earnest.  My stand’s position held many more risks than I would have normally taken, but because of the pattern of the terrain’s funnel like effect, along with the farm’s boundaries, I was more or less forced to place my stand half way up the ridge.  Not only did I have to contend with the swirling winds that come with the territory, I would also have to acknowledge the ever present threat of the seeping thermals that constantly travel up and down the ridge as the temperature changes, worse, the buck was expected from above, the farm over.  My Scent-Loc suit was about to be given its ultimate test, baptism under heavy fire.  If it failed, it would then become the most expensive set of underwear this side of “Fredericks of Hollywood.”  My daydreaming was bought to an abrupt halt by a bleating fawn that happened to be 12 feet directly below me.  I hadn’t a clue as to how it got there without me detecting it?  But I did know that she would have to go.  Nothing alerts or alarms other unseen deer faster than a fawn bleat, or a snort, especially when the alerted deer failed to scent the alleged danger.  She was on the verge of blowing my cover.  It took a direct hit with an apple to persuade the noisy kid to go elsewhere. Naturally I had to wonder if it were this fawn’s mother, who had been targeted by the big buck?  With that in mid, I would now play much closer attention to my surroundings.  Several minutes later I started to pick up bits and pieces of shuffling noises in the leaves above me.  I couldn’t see what was taking place up there but it had the distinctive sound of a rutting buck in pursuit of a doe.  The stop and go action was heading my way.  A doe came charging over the ridge with a big buck not quite in hot pursuit, but bird-dogging her from a distance.  He was emitting these god-awful belching sounds, not your usual grunts.  I swear, if I didn’t witness the source of these sounds, I would have thought that they came from my brother Allie, he does that in recognition of a good, or even a bad meal, to liven up our hunting camp and that he does, we enjoy him.  The doe shot right by me following the path of the fawn, both on line with the staging area.  The buck seemed undecided, I knew that he couldn’t wind me because she hadn’t, and they had the wind advantage for several seconds when the wind momentarily shifted.  Common sense would dictate that the buck follows the path of the doe, but what if he hadn’t read the manual?  Here I was holding 75# at full draw with the buck liable to disappear back over the ridge, the direction he was looking.  I would have preferred that he set himself up, but when the situation becomes iffy, it’s better to try something, rather that nothing.  I called out to him with one soft doe grunt, his head swiveled around, he tool several steps in my direction and stopped, looking for the source of the grunt.  When it appeared that he couldn’t focus on my location I again grunted softly, he responded by taking a few more steps in my direction, only this time he cleared the last obstacle, exposing his lung area.  Because of the angle of the hit the buck was able to travel 150 yards which put him in sight of Freddy, Freddy actually saw the buck go down and had him in hand even before I was able to get down out of my tree.  Back in camp Greg measured the buck’s front hooves; we had a perfect match with the tracks found at the rub.  We were quite pleased with the outcome, and I was proud of the roles that my two sons had played which contributed directly to its successful ending, now that’s what I call team work.