Avoiding ticks and setting up blinds signals the impending arrival of deer season
By John Holyoke
On Sunday — admittedly a few weeks behind our usual schedule — a hunting buddy and I headed to the woods to begin preparations in earnest for the upcoming deer season. The day was perfect — a bit of a nip in the air, with a brisk breeze blowing — and we quickly went about the regular chores that go along with getting ready to spend hours and hours in the woods in hopes of finding a single cooperative buck.
This year, I should add, “or doe,” as most of the friends in our group were among the lucky hunters who received an any-deer permit for 2021. That, you might think, should increase our odds of success astronomically.
Here’s hoping you’re right.
Before most seasons, my buddy and I try to get out a few weeks before opening day — that’s Oct. 30 for us Maine residents this year — so that the hundreds of deer (or so we tell each other) that live in our happy hunting grounds have ample time to avoid tripping over those tents before hunting season arrives. Or something like that.
This year, due to scheduling conflicts, we didn’t have a chance to do much scouting or set up any blinds until just a week before the opener, so we got right to work. Well, I suppose I should say that my hunting buddy got right to work, and I stood off to the side and handed him the tools he needed.
The reason: After listening to the weather forecast on Sunday morning, I flashed back to a year ago, when a large windstorm upended my blind and left some of my gear exposed for a week or so. It turns out that this week we’re expected to have a bit more wind, and up to 4 inches of rain, which was a bit worrisome. Add in that I’ve got another scheduling conflict and will have to sit out opening day this year, and I decided to hold off on deploying my own ground blind. So on Sunday, I was tagging along as a helper. Or a cheerer-onner. Or something like that.
Over the course of an hour or so, my buddy and I talked about his plans for the season, and about his preparation efforts thus far. Not too many years ago, a chat like that would have focused on places where we’d seen the most deer sign, or spots where we’d seen deer in years past.
This year, in a real sign of the times, we talked just as much about ticks and Permethrin — the chemical compound that apparently keeps the little buggers at bay — as we did about actual deer hunting.
My buddy had sprayed his clothing and gear with Permethrin, he said, and he plans to come back and give his ground blind a spray-down, too. That’s just the way things are nowadays, we’ve both come to realize.
I’ve been hunting in those woods for 20 years or so, and he’s been hunting there his whole life. We both remember days when we’d never even thought twice about encountering a tick, or checking ourselves for them after spending time in those woods.
Now, that’s simply not the case. (Note to those who live in more northerly parts of Maine who think you’re immune to this scourge: I hope you’re right. But I fear you’re wrong. Just like we were.)
On this afternoon, we found a likely spot — a site where we’ve never set up a blind, but which my buddy used to hunt more regularly many years ago — and commenced setting up housekeeping.
A large stump in the clearing where he wanted to put his blind is now serving as a makeshift coffee table between two camp chairs, and will provide a great place to stow binoculars, or a heater, or a snack or two. Though the day was breezy, the blind is in a sheltered spot that should make it comfortable even on the windiest of days. And the location is just off a proven deer-travel corridor where another friend once shot a buck.
Before long, we were back at the truck, talking more about the future, and when we’d all be able to hunt together. Hopping into the cab, we headed for home.
Then I glanced at the back of my hand, and saw that despite our best efforts, we’d been followed. Or assaulted.
There, crawling quickly toward my wrist, was a tick.
Up until then, it had been great to be back in the woods.