356
5 year old buck +
There are plenty of things that could be worse than having a birthday in mid-October—having an anniversary during hunting season, for one. Yet, every year as my birthday approaches, I feel that familiar tug to step away from the busy rhythm of work and spend all or part of the day in pursuit of a birthday buck. The inspiration for this annual ritual came from a friend who, years ago, harvested his most unforgettable deer on his birthday in late September. That buck was remarkable not only for its old age but also for the glaring evidence of survival—a .22 bullet embedded in his skull and a broadhead lodged deep in its shoulder. Talk about resilience and grit; that deer had truly endured. Inspired by his story, I began my own tradition—one that has brought its share of challenges and unexpected lessons.
Most years, as I step into the October woods, the air is unseasonably warm—eight out of the last ten birthdays, including yesterday, have felt less like fall and more like a lingering August. The sun hangs heavy. Every twig snap seems sharper, Every squirrel and distant crow call serves as reminder that there is life in the woods .
Last season, the weather broke from this tradition, and a brisk cold front swept through the region, bringing with it a rush of anticipation. That day, a buck caught me checking a birthday greeting on my iPhone, leaving an unfilled buck tag in my pocket. I managed to harvest a mature doe instead, which is the only birthday tag I’ve filled so far—a moment of bittersweet success, shaped by luck and lessons learned.
So why take a day off from work, especially when deadlines loom and the Deercast forecast says wait until a cool front? Statistically, the odds of encountering a trophy buck in these conditions are slim. Yet, I return to the woods for three simple reasons. First, chasing deer on challenging days hones my skills for the rare, perfect conditions. The hours spent reading the wind, feeling the subtle shift of thermals on my skin, analyzing entry and exit plans, and referencing past hunts deepen my understanding and make me a better hunter. Second, I love the immersive solitude of the woods—the way sunlight filters through the canopy, the gentle hush that settles over everything, the earthy scent of October rising with thermals. And lastly, there is always a chance of success. However small, is always higher when I’m in the field than when I’m glued to an office chair.
Over the years, these experiences have subtly reshaped the way I approach hunting and tradition. Early on, I chased the idea of the perfect birthday buck with an almost stubborn optimism. As seasons passed, I learned to embrace the imperfect: the lessons that come with mistakes, the quiet satisfaction of simply being present, the patience required to adapt strategy and let go of expectation. The solitude of a warm October day and the knowledge that hunting is a paradox of traditions inherited along with the ones I’m shaping keeps me going.
Ultimately, I hope the logic of statistics never dulls the joy I find in the hunt. Was venturing out on a sweltering birthday truly logical? Maybe not. Was the experience always enjoyable? Not every time. Was it worth it? Absolutely. I look forward to continuing this tradition and its lessons, sharing with others the understanding that hunting is as much about personal growth and connection as it is about the pursuit. In the warmth of October woods, where every sense comes alive and memories linger with the fading light, I am reminded that the value this tradition lies in the stories it creates, and the wisdom gained from the journey.

Last year's "birthday doe."
Most years, as I step into the October woods, the air is unseasonably warm—eight out of the last ten birthdays, including yesterday, have felt less like fall and more like a lingering August. The sun hangs heavy. Every twig snap seems sharper, Every squirrel and distant crow call serves as reminder that there is life in the woods .
Last season, the weather broke from this tradition, and a brisk cold front swept through the region, bringing with it a rush of anticipation. That day, a buck caught me checking a birthday greeting on my iPhone, leaving an unfilled buck tag in my pocket. I managed to harvest a mature doe instead, which is the only birthday tag I’ve filled so far—a moment of bittersweet success, shaped by luck and lessons learned.
So why take a day off from work, especially when deadlines loom and the Deercast forecast says wait until a cool front? Statistically, the odds of encountering a trophy buck in these conditions are slim. Yet, I return to the woods for three simple reasons. First, chasing deer on challenging days hones my skills for the rare, perfect conditions. The hours spent reading the wind, feeling the subtle shift of thermals on my skin, analyzing entry and exit plans, and referencing past hunts deepen my understanding and make me a better hunter. Second, I love the immersive solitude of the woods—the way sunlight filters through the canopy, the gentle hush that settles over everything, the earthy scent of October rising with thermals. And lastly, there is always a chance of success. However small, is always higher when I’m in the field than when I’m glued to an office chair.
Over the years, these experiences have subtly reshaped the way I approach hunting and tradition. Early on, I chased the idea of the perfect birthday buck with an almost stubborn optimism. As seasons passed, I learned to embrace the imperfect: the lessons that come with mistakes, the quiet satisfaction of simply being present, the patience required to adapt strategy and let go of expectation. The solitude of a warm October day and the knowledge that hunting is a paradox of traditions inherited along with the ones I’m shaping keeps me going.
Ultimately, I hope the logic of statistics never dulls the joy I find in the hunt. Was venturing out on a sweltering birthday truly logical? Maybe not. Was the experience always enjoyable? Not every time. Was it worth it? Absolutely. I look forward to continuing this tradition and its lessons, sharing with others the understanding that hunting is as much about personal growth and connection as it is about the pursuit. In the warmth of October woods, where every sense comes alive and memories linger with the fading light, I am reminded that the value this tradition lies in the stories it creates, and the wisdom gained from the journey.

Last year's "birthday doe."