The Sleeping Deer Story

It's the day before another trip to Barneveld and I thought this would be a great opportunity to reminisce a little bit about a past hunting experience. Let's take a moment to remember the Sleeping Deer Story.

It was Devon's second year hunting and Barneveld was bound to be exciting regardless. We got up at 1 am and managed the three hour drive after couple of Monsters and Coffees at the Kwik Trip in Fond du lac, our regular stop. First morning, I (James) was sitting in Rob's tree stand in the way back of Theobald's valley and had deer everywhere (that seems to be a trend when Rob's not sitting in it). I passed up a small 6 point buck and a smaller 4 point buck and bagged a doe after about an hour and a half of hunting.

What this got me was "Devon Duty" and he was removed from Dad's hip and placed on mine for the rest of the weekend since I had already gotten a deer. By taking the King of Fidget with me, Dad should see more deer instead. As Devon's personal guide for the rest of the weekend, I was determined to put him on some deer so that he could get his first. (At the time, I didn't mean "on" some deer, I meant "near" some deer, "on", as you will see, turned out to mean "on".)

As a little back history, the previous fall, Devon was out on his first deer hunt. Chris and I took him to the Dump Woods and set him on top of the knoll while we went in to get a rabbit we had seen the day before, we had already gotten deer the previous day. As we were shooting at this rabbit, I looked up and saw a really big, 8 point buck walking between where we were and where we had placed Devon. Chris and I waited for the inevitable gunshot that Devon would take but it never happened. When we cleared the woods and found Devon, he was making Snow Angels and never saw the deer.

That afternoon, we were walking up to the Pine Tree Stand where Devon would sit. I was going across the ravine about 50 yards to another tree so that I could see Devon's position and help out if needed. When I arrived at my tree, I was unable to climb it so I went back to Devon's tree to tell him I was going a different direction and not to shoot me. As I'm standing at the base of his tree stand, I hear "crunch, crunch". Now there are a million-plus squirrels at Theobalds so I whisper to Devon, "is that a squirrel?" We both peer over the rock embankment that the Pine Tree Stand sits on and Devon whispers back "IT'S A BUCK!" I whisper, "THEN SHOOT IT!" I now also see the deer, it's about 10 yards max away and below us on the forest floor. It's so close I could've almost jumped on its back from our position.

Devon brings up his gun and bang!, the sapling between him and the deer explodes and comes crashing down as if Paul Bunyan himself had whacked it with an axe. Bang!, another miss and the deer stops at about 75 yards through the woods. Devon can't see it any longer but I still can since I'm on the ground. It's a big 8 point buck, beautiful deer. I pull up my 20 gauge and whisper to Devon that I see it and to be quiet. As I'm about to pull the trigger, CHICK, CHICK. Devon starts reloading his gun, which the deer hears, and takes off. We return to the truck at the end of the day and relay the story to which Chris questions Devon "Geez, how close does James have to put you before you can get a deer?"


The last morning was uneventful and we saw nothing. Sunday afternoons can be more boring as most hunters have packed it in and the deer just aren't moving around anymore but we were determined to make the most of the trip so out we went for one final afternoon hunt. Chris, Devon and I started out towards "the flat", which is the land across the road that follows the trout stream. It's a huge expanse of space with more than enough room for all of us. Dad went one way to actually cross the stream and the rest of us headed towards the western side. As we are walking out, Devon is skipping, humming, singing, etc., basically being himself. We didn't call him the King of Fidget for nothing. Chris and I are discussing where to sit and we decide to put Devon in the corner that I had gotten my bow buck many years back. It's got a good place to sit and is well hidden. We take him there and tell him to sit in front of the fence post and he starts walking around the fence post. We say Devon, NO, in front of the post. He starts mashing down the grass (the grass he's supposed to hide behind) and we head further upstream. We are excited that since Devon is on the edge, he will probably push deer back our way with his noise and we might actually see something this afternoon. About 100 yards later, Chris climbs into a tree stand and after another 100 yards, a sit along the bank of the stream and watch the woods on the other side.

About 20 minutes later I hear a gunshot from downstream. I know it's not Chris as he's only 100 yards away and assume it's Dad who is about 300 yards away. I climb out the creek bed and walk to Chris to get his opinion on the matter and see if he thinks we should help Dad get the deer back across the creek. As I'm talking to Chris, Devon is approaching from the other direction.

I look at Chris and say "Devon's coming. Do you think it was him who shot?"
"No", says Chris, "that's not possible."
"He's got a big smile on his face" I said.
"Shit" says Chris, "You've got to be kidding."
Devon arrives, he can't hardly breathe and he's talking fast. "Igotone,Igotone,Igotone."

We head back to his sitting spot to help get the deer out and there's nothing in the field. "Where is it" I ask. "Over there", Devon replies as he points towards where he was sitting. I look further into the little stand of trees and see nothing. "Where?" I question again. "Right there!" Devon points. He is pointing about 10 feet from where he was sitting and sure enough, there's a deer there. After Chris finished off the deer with a slug and after field dressing the deer, we find out that after Devon smashed down all the grass and finally took a seat, he realized that after 10 minutes he could hear something weird coming from near the stream. He thought was was passing in and out of a pipe or something. He slowly stood up, looked towards the creek to check it out and found out that sound was a deer, sleeping and snoring, only 10 feet away inside a patch of long grass amongst a fallen down tree root. It had slept through his talking out to the corner, his walking to the wrong side of the fence post only yards from it, his smashing down of the grass and his fidgeting in the first 10 minutes. Our fist thought is that we've found the first deer at Theobald's farm with Chronic Wasting Disease. After it tests negative we decide it must have had Chronic Stupid Disease instead. It tasted great nonetheless,

So the answer to Chris' question from the previous day of "Geez, how close does James have to put you before you can get a deer?" is now known. The answer is 10 feet, as long as the deer is asleep.