The Downhill Doe

Posted On November 17, 2025

A Whitetail Deer Hunter’s Tale

It was finally here. The day I’d been waiting for. Opening day of 2025’s Southern zone rifle season.

When I was a boy growing up in Saranac Lake, the Southern Tier was shotgun only. They had no rifle hunting season. As a result, two New York State hunting traditions lived strong. One was the Southern Tier tradition of hunting groups trekking north for an opportunity to hunt the Adirondacks’ trophy bucks with a rifle, the other was the Northern Zone hunter’s eagerness to make the trip south for opportunities to fill freezers with corn fed Southern Tier venison, where it was shotgun hunting only, but does could be hunted, and deer far more plentiful.

With rifles now legal statewide, I’m not sure how strong those traditions remain, but that Southern Tier hunting blood still runs strong in my veins.

So I packed up my trusty scope mounted, bolt action .308 Rugger Model 77. My father bought a matched pair of them, one for him & one for his son, the year after I was legal to hunt whitetails, which back in the late ’70’s was still sixteen. I’d killed my 1st buck the season before, a nice 8 point, with a shotgun, on the slopes of Phelps Ridge in the Adirondack High Peaks. At the age of sixteen, I field dressed & dragged that big buck down off the mountain and back to South Meadows, alone.

I was heading south for the opening day weekend of another Southern Zone hunting season with my son RJ and our hunting partner, Chuck. Chuck and I have been close friends & hunting partners since our Collegiate Cornell days. I experienced my 1st Southern Tier deer hunts with Chuck, including my 1st Southern Tier whitetail, taken on his land with that same 12 gauge Remington in 1984, 3 years before Southern Zone rifle hunting 1st became legal.

That hunt, as are all hunts, was a story all its own. I had just completed U.S Army parachutist school to become jump qualified. I shot that buck from an old school homemade platform board tree stand mounted in a big black cherry tree on a knoll. I shot once at the buck, then watched it disappear into the woods down over the hill. In an adrenaline fueled panic that I was losing my buck, I channeled my newly gained parachutist skills, cradled my shotgun, and lept from the tree, tucking and rolling in my best parachute landing fall. After getting up & dusting myself off, much to my relief, that buck lay dead just over the hillcrest. To this day, Chuck still loves to tell that story & I still call that my “PLF buck”.

But I’m 62 now now. Dragging big Adirondack bucks solo down off Phelps Mountain is an exercise of times past, as are my days of buck hunt PLFs.

But 62, however young or old that may be, doesn’t by any stretch mean I’m not still in the hunt. Last year’s big target buck proves it.

I was planning to open 2025’s Southern Zone rifle season hunting the very same enclosed hub style tower blind I’d shot 2024’s buck from. I spent the week planning an all day Saturday sit. I packed gear accordingly; rifle, ammo, warm layers, binos. Armed as well with as my own special survivor’s concoction; a double espresso rocket fuel enhanced syringe fed liquid lunch. I prefer gravity feeding my meals, but when I’m afield in the colder temps of November, my liquid food concoction simply won’t flow, so I syringe feed. Not as relaxing and sometimes a bit messy, but quick, quiet & efficient. Thusly armed, my son RJ drove me up to my hunting blind in the darkness filled wee hours of opening morning. I was fully prepared to sit all day, half hour before sunrise ’til sunset & half an hour beyond.

While in addition to my regular season buck tag I had 3 Southern Zone doe tags(1 WMU 8Y DMP of my own, 2 more 8Y’s consigned), and even though, after two successful 2025 bow season bucks, our trio definitely needed to havest some does, I was, at least opening morning, big trophy buck focused.

Now, for anyone out there who has never truly sat in one stand all day, dawn to dusk, fully commited to a hunt, the ability to do so is a skill set unto itself. It’s a grind. Especially when you see no deer, which, as the day slowly unfolded, was my opeing day situtation. Sitting all day in one blind and seeing no deer isn’t a grind, in one word, it’s brutal.

Actually, to say I saw no deer at all isn’t accurate. I glimpsed 3 does 70 yards down through the woods to my left at just after sunrise, trapsing down through the woods in a line at a pretty good clip. I didn’t even have time to get them in my binos before I saw why, they had a big buck, nose to the ground, on their heels. I naked eye glimpsed him too. He had a nice garden rake type rack on each side, I counted at least eight points, before they all disappeared. That same big buck came back through about an hour later, solo, nose to the ground, backtracking the same scent trail. I glimpsed him out of the corner of my right eye, right at the moment I had decided to step out onto my blind’s back deck to stretch & relieve myself. That’s how a hunter’s life goes. I just shook my head & chuckled. Score 1 for big bucks. Wouldn’tcha’ know it.

I saw nothing more for the duration of day 1, 12 long, slow hours, 5:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. Though I did glimpse a shadow that I was pretty certain was deer movement down to my left beyond clear shooting range just before sunset. Although recently enacted NYS big game hunting regulations have extended legal shooting hours half an hour on either end, 1/2 before sunrise to 1/2 hour past sunset, preactially speaking, on most days, that really means 10-15 more minutes of safe, visible shooting time on either end of the day. Which is still good.

Still, though my eyes were tired, I remained in good spirits headed into day 2. Chuck’s niece had shot a nice opening day doe right at sunset, which we helped her find, drag & dress quickly & efficiently, without incident, before Saturday night’s rains came. That left us still looking to tag several more deer, bucks or does, to fill all family & group venison freezer needs through what was left of opening weekend & the rest of the season.

So, as under cover of Sunday morning’s pre-dawn darkness, I once again took up residency in my blind with my rifle. Sunday’s hunt would be morning only, as my daughter, who had made the trip with me, and I wanted to get home Sunday afternoon ahead of the I81 corridor’s predicted lake effect snow squalls.

Since I had already tagged a nice 7 point with my crossbow just the weekend before,

I was still big trophy buck focused, but contrary to opening day morning, if the opportunity presented itself, would also tag a nice doe.

I saw nothing early. Then, about 7:30 a.m. I spotted movement about 75 yards downhill, to my left. First one, then two, then three does appeared, ambling about, grazing. I got my binos on them, one doe was clearly just a fawn, pretty small, but the second was a medium sized doe, definitely in my assessment target worthy, & the 3rd doe was bigger yet. So, I got my rifle up & zeroed in, bipod mounted, on my left shooting window, as I waited for one of the two bigger does to present themselves in one of my timber framed shooting lanes, broadside, at what would be about 70 yards.

However, as I waited, rifle bipod mounted, safety on, gun stock on my thigh, ready to shoulder my weapon & take aim, that did not happen. Instead, the 3 does meandered into some brambles as they slowly moved right, towards my center shooting window, which, if they reappeared, would actually give me a closer, clearer view, broadside. So I sat patiently, watching, and waited.

Then, at just about the point I began wondering if I had lost them completely moving downhill away from me masked by the brambles, a big doe head popped out of the brushline in front of me, about 30 yards downslope, to my right. I quickly repositioned bipod & rifle to my right. From there, as most hunters can relate, everything happened slow motion fast, instinctively, almost without thought, in an instant.

The doe stepped out into the open and turned left ,facing slightly downhill, broadside. Crosshairs behind front left shoulder, safety off-exhale-squeeze, all in one continuous fluid motion. What happened next, however, was not what I expected. At 30 yards broadside, I expected to see that doe drop, or at least lurch back sideways. That did not happen. Instead, 3 white flags went up & all I saw was white tails & asses as those 3 does bounded off downhill to my left in a big hurry, without sign of injury, as I sat back in disbelief, watching them run off seemingly unscathed after clicking my safety back on, ejecting my spent round & reloading another.

At that point my son RJ texted me. He was a quarter mile east of me of in another tower blind.

“I assume that was your shot. What was it?”

“Yeah. Big doe. Came out in front of me. I think I might have missed though. There were 3 of them. They all ran off.”

“Huh. Well, you probably should sit tight awhile.”

“No, they all took off down the hill. The field is clear. I think I’m just gonna get down & take a quick look out where I shot to see if I can pick up any sign of a blood trail.”

“Okay. Well, keep me posted.”

So, armed with my rifle, reloaded with one round, (I only load one round at a time. It helps me stay focused on the shot I am in. It’s a method, unconventional as it may be, that has served me rather well through the years) I descended my stand and went down to scan the area where I had made my shot for any fresh sign of hair, tissue, or blood.

My initial serch came up empty. I turned and looked back uphill towards my shooting window as I began doubting my shot. 30 yards? Through a scope? Broadside? With my trusty .308? How did I miss???

I slowly began expanding my search area in concentric circles. as I replayed the moment in my mind’s eye. Maybe I flinched at the last moment. Maybe I pulled my shot over or under her. I began shaking my head and gave a quick sigh. I at that moment was becoming convinced I had missed cleanly. Unbelieveable as it seemed, it looked like I had made a complete whiff.

Still, before I gave up completely, called it a miss and returned to my stand, I decided to follow the fleeing deer’s trail downhill to my left to the point I had originally spotted them, where I knew they had crossed one of our secondary trails leading down to a game camera mounted below us. So I made my way slowly and quielty throuogh the brambles, still seeing nothing but the disturbed leaves of fleeing deer. No hair, no tissue, no blood trail.

Then, as I hit that trail at the point they had crossed, there it was. A few drops on stained leaves at first, then some bright splashes. Unmistakeble. Bright red, fresh. I had blood.

So I had not missed after all. I had what looked like a strong blood trail headed left, downhill towards a steep ravine gully where we’ve retrieved several deer previously. The question now was, had I made a good shot, or a bad shot? What shape was that doe in? Was she wounded and running? Or was she lying dead in the bottom of that steep ravine’s gully.

Since the edge of the ravine was only about 15 yards from where I stood, I decided to slowly & gingerly make my way to the edge so I could at least get a peek over before further assessing my next move. As I took a few steps forward, after marking 1st blood, I saw movement on the far slope of the ravine, about 25 yards from me. I froze in my tracks. 2 does stood and turned, broadside to me, stomping their feet, watching me. Now I was stuck. Was one of them the doe I had shot? If so, I did not want her running. So I stood motionless, waiting for them to turn away from me, so I could get my scope up & on them. Slowly, I knelt down to lower my profile. I pulled out my cell phone & called my son RJ.

“I’ve got a blood trail. I’m near the ravine.”

“You need to back out of there.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t. Two does are on the far side watching me, so I’m stuck here for the moment. I’m going to try & get eyes on them to see if either is the one I shot. Once I assess that situation I’ll figure out my next move from there.”

“Okay, keep me posted, but you really need to back out of there if you can.”

I decided I wasn’t moving until either A) I got a scope on those two does, determined one of them was mine, got another good shot, & hit her again, or B) they walked off on their own, at which point I would back out and wait, but not without at least getting a glimpse over the edge of the ravine. Something about the way they kept turning and looking back down the ravine behind them told me that there might be that 3rd deer lying at the bottom.

So I slowly worked myself into a sitting positiion, dead center in the game/blood trail. I managed, one at a time, to get my scope on each of the does on the far ravine bank, facing me. They both appeared to be wound free and healthy. While either of them was in range, I had no thoughts of a shot, even though I had more than enough tags for 2 does at that point, not with a deer of undetermineds status still somewhere in front of me.

Then, to complicate matters further, who should appear but that big garden rake 8 point+ buck from the morning before! He came own the ravine bank & mingled momentarily with the two does, before he continued downslope into the ravine. He was headed right for me!

I made my decision right then. Down deer or not, if that big buck popped his head up in front of me on my side of the ravine, or turned broadside at inside 30 yards and gave me a good clean shot on the far side, for that matter, I was going to take it.

So, rifle up, seated right smack dead center in the game trail, I waited, and waited, and waited some more. My arms finally got tired, I lowered my rifle and waited some more. During that time, much to my relief, the two does slowly meandered off to my right down along the far ravine bank.

After about 10 minutes, I slowly got up. I approached the ravine bank, ready to take an offhand downhill shot at that buck. But, when I got to a point where I could see to the bottom of the ravine, the buck was nowhere to be seen.

But my downhill doe was.

She was lying dead in the very bottom of the ravine. At that point I called my son.

“Got her. She’s at the bottom of the ravine, dead. But there’s a big buck, at least an 8 point, right close by. I think he went down into the ravine and was sniffing her. I don’t know where he is now though.”

“Okay. I’m on my way. I’ll tell Chuck. Keep your eye out for that buck.”

At that point I backed out and returned to my blind to retrive my hunting kit with all my field dressing implements, more ammo, and tags. By the time I was climbing back down, RJ had arrived. We drove down the point in the trail to where I first picked up blood. We went to the edge of the ravine, where RJ thought it best if we pull that doe up out of there without field dressing her and leaving a gut pile, as that was a deer highway that we wanted left undisturbed.

So RJ descended into the ravine to retrive the doe while I stayed on buck overwatch. However, after pulling and tugging for a quick minute, RJ aborted that plan.

“Get down here. She’s a beast!”

I got down to the bottom of the ravine.

“I really thought I had missed.”

“Nope. She’s a nice big doe. Bigger than any I’ve seen. You wacked her good.”

The two of us dragged that doe up out of there fully intact. Not without effort. I was badly winded at the endeavor. Before loading her onto the four wheeler and taking her to where we wanted to field dress her, we decided to sit overwatch on the gully awhile to see if that big buck came back. Rj went down ridge about 30 yards. I went upridge about 20. We sat half an hour, but saw nothing. So we unloaded rifles and loaded my deer for field dressing, tagging, and preparation for processing.

I’d like to finish by taking a moment to address the current state of NYS whitetail deer tagging & reporting. Up ’til two years ago, tagging & reporting whitetail game harvests was a simple, straightforward process. Hunters were issued weatherproof tags that could be immediately filled out & attached to taken deer in the field. They then had 7 days to report their harvest, either online or by phone. That was the tagging & reporting system I grew up with. It seemed to work well, as far as I know.

Then, last season, for reasons unbeknownst to me, some enviromoron in charge of such things, decided that issuing flimsy PLAIN PAPER tags would be much more environmentally friendly. So NOW, as a result of that enviromentally moronic decision, instead of filling out one weatherproof NYSDEC issued tag & attaching it to my deer right there in the field with a zip tie, wire or string through the ear, since paper tags are flimsy & absolutely the opposite of water or weatherproof & would disintigrate immediately if attached to a harvested deer in the field, I (along with every other hunter I know) have had to adapt & develop their own individual alternative deer tagging systems.

My tagging system consists of, prior to the hunting season, cuting out all of my tags, placing each in a soft plastic baseball card protective sleeve, inserting THAT in a hard plastic protective baseball card sleeve, and stacking all of those, along with my back tag (which I am no longer required to wear) w/HIP #, duck stamp & DD214 in my hunter’s kit bag, along with a gernours supply of sandwich baggies & zip ties. THEN, once I do harvest a deer, I locate the appropriate tag, take it out of its homemade plastic protective holders, fill it out, place it in a sealed ziplock sandwich baggie, & then ziptie that entire concoction to the deer’s ear or antlers after I field dress it & prepare it for processing.

So, thanks to some NYS enviromoron’s infinite wisdom, what USED to require one reinforced weatherproof paper tag + one ziptie, NOW requires one flimsy paper tag (made of trees), one soft plastic baseball card sleeve, one hard plastic baseball card sleeve, one plastic baggie, + the aforementioned ziptie. All in under the guise of making the process more “environmetally friendly”. That is what happens when NYS puts enviromorons in charge.

Regarding the game harvest reporting situation: What used to be a 7 day reporting window is now 48 hours. While I will agree 7 days may be too long, I think that anyone who hunts can tell you, 48 hours is too short. If I go afield on a hunting trip on a Thursday or Friday, I may not get home or have internet access for 3-4 days. So, any deer harvested on Thursday afternoon is now technically required to be reported by Saturday. A deer harvested on Friday, by Sunday, etc. etc. but hunters such as myself, who don’t carry one of those newfangled smartphones, may not even get a chance to report their harvest until Monday or Tuesday.

How do we remedy that? Well, I think the reasonable answer on NYS’s part is to make the reporting requirement at least 72 hours. That would help. But that’s the smart answer, so I’m not holding my breath for that. In the meantime, I suspect the more likely applied answer is that suddenly NYS is going to find a preponderance of reported deer harvests occuring on Sundays.

Those are the things hunters have to put up with when NYS puts non-hunting enviromorons in charge.

Just for the record, my downhill doe was indeed and actually harvested on a Sunday, and reported as such, as I happened to get back home & in front of my computer later that same day. But that is or may not always be the case.

Because every hunt is a story all its own.

That, ladies & gentlmen, is the story of my down hill doe.

Thank you for reading.

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Until Our Trails Cross Again:

ADKO