My first “bonding” with my new father-in-law happened one frigid February morning with a poke in my snoring ribs and a whispered “invite” to go scouting.  Not being born and bred in the South, I had to wonder if this was something like being taught to hunt the legendary skink.  The male members of my spouse’s family had proven to have a thigh-slapping sense of humor that thrived on goofing and spoofing. 

I got up, threw thermals on under winter clothes, and trudged out to the faded blue Bronco that rumbled like a snoring coonhound.  That would be my father-in-law’s description anyway.   

I had heard a lot about scouting in the past six months so had grabbed a small notepad with a little pencil in it, shoved my night-vision monocular in a jacket sleeve pocket, and reminded myself that my cell phone had a decent camera.  My father-in-law had a huge thermos of coffee and a topo map that looked like it had been used to, well, clean something.  We took off in the pre-dawn dark and sometime later came to a lurching stop at the edge of a stand of hardwoods. At a nod of my father-in-laws head, we rolled out of the Bronco and stood in the hard chill air.  The silence made my ears strain for sound – and then there was the spritz-wheeze of scent blocker.  I was handed a pair each of rubber boots and gloves. 

Then, my father-in-law tapped his map, pointed to the woods, and quietly headed towards them. 

My scouting lesson had started. 

As we moved through the woods, I was told that winter scouting told the story of deer movement from the past season and that, being creatures of habit and browsing feeders, they would likely follow the same trails used last Fall and would likely feed on the same growth in the same areas.  Apparently, the farmers in the area rotated crops, but deer seemed just as partial to corn as soybeans, so they used the same trails year after year to navigate to and from these fields. 

We noted scrapes, found bedding areas, and then walked to one of the family tree stands.  Climbing up, I used my nite-monoc to scan the area and could clearly see the shooting lanes that had been cut through the surrounding trees.  They had been skilfully done so that from my height, they were obvious, but from the ground, they weren’t.   

Continuing through the woods, we crossed the same stream twice, noting any deer signs, now that dawn had brought some light.  I asked, finally, why we located deer trails, but didn’t follow them.  My father-in-law’s grin warned me that my inexperience was hanging out.  I was told that we wanted to know how the deer were moving, most of the time, but that no matter how “unstunk” we were, we might still leave scent that could disrupt their patterns.  I nodded and fought through blackberry brambles, again.  My father-in-law chuckled and explained that the deer loved blackberries, and pointing to a stand of old oaks nearby, added that there would be acorns this year.   

His message was that we were in the middle of deer central and the family tree stands were stationed around the perimeter at strategic points. 

I asked why scouting was necessary when there seemed to be no mystery about where the deer were going to be next season.  My father-in-law laughed out loud and turned to walk back to the Bronco, saying that nothing ever stayed the same, nothing was for sure, and that the deer could always wise up and move out – and then there the family would be – sitting in the trees, like a bunch of nuts. 

Scouting – the way you make sure your game will be where you’re going to be when hunting season rolls around.