Photo By Chuck & Grace Bartlett

For two consecutive mornings I'd glassed a quartet of velvet-antlered blacktails feeding along a spring seep across an 800-foot-deep shale canyon. Three of the four bucks were Pope and Young caliber. The biggest buck sported a 4x3 rack that I estimated to be 28 inches wide.

The first morning I spotted the bucks I figured on glassing them until they bedded near the spring. Then I'd slowly sneak within range. Instead of bedding, however, they walked single file through a saddle in the ridge and disappeared into dense, dark timber.

On the second morning I found the bucks feeding near the spring right on cue. This time I was determined to high tail it around the canyon and set an ambush in the saddle before they slipped away. Never having crossed the canyon, I vastly underestimated the time it would take to get into position. I was barely halfway to the saddle before the bucks began moving.

I wanted that big 4x3, and ambushing him in the saddle was my best option. I decided to hike across the canyon in the afternoon, find a level spot several hundred yards below the saddle and spend the night there. Being young and inexperienced, I reasoned that early September nights were plenty warm, so I left my sleeping bag at the spike camp and brought only my foam pad, daypack and bow. That was the longest, coldest night I've ever experienced.

When dawn arrived I inched my way to the saddle and set up behind a deadfall, downhill of the trail the bucks used. After about an hour I heard deer coming. Minutes later a doe and two fawns calmly passed within 10 yards uphill of me. I waited, confident the setup was fool proof. Time dragged by as the sun's rays crept around the point of the ridge and then filled the saddle in bright sunlight. Things were warming up fast. Without warning two bucks materialized about 130 yards away. The bucks were not on the trail, but they were moving my way. Seconds later the 4x3 appeared and I could see the antlers of the fourth buck bobbing above the brush in the background.

The lead buck had closed to within 50 yards when he abruptly stopped and became ramrod stiff. The wheels were falling off my plan, but I remained motionless and hoped for the best. A beat later the lead buck started blowing loudly, as he stared in my direction. Suddenly, the buck bounded upslope and out of sight with his three buddies in tow.

I didn't fully understand it at the time, but poor scent management had defeated me. Years later, I realized that before the sun hit the ridge the air current was flowing downhill, explaining why the doe and fawns had passed so near without catching my scent. By the time the bucks showed up the sun had been shining for sometime, and the resultant climbing surface temperature had reversed the airflow; the air currents by then were blowing uphill and toward the deer trail.

DEFINING THE PROBLEM
According to Leonard Rue III in his definitive book, "The Deer of North America," most odors in the natural world are of organic compounds and are released as molecules of gas. For gases to be smelled they must be mixed or dissolved with moisture. Deer have moist, hairless muzzles. The moisture of the nostrils traps scent molecules. The lining of the nostrils in mammals is referred to as the epithelium.