MDC making bowhunters’ lives more difficult

Back in 1966, I was already a deer hunting legend — in my own mind.

My claim to fame was justified because I had beaten the odds by drawing a firearms permit for the state’s first modern deer season the previous year.

Substituting raw muscle for skill, I  clambered up and down the Flint Hills near Manhattan, Kan., until I became one of only a handful of living people who had legally shot a deer within the boundaries of the Sunflower State.

Having achieved such a pinnacle of prowess in only a single season, I decided I was ready to forgo the uncertainties of the firearms draw in favor of an over-the-counter archery permit, which was good for one deer of either sex.

The veteran bowhunters among you aren’t going to believe this, but I didn’t fill that tag! I didn’t even see a deer that was anywhere close to being in range of my 45-pound Pen Pearson recurve bow and cedar arrows tipped with two-bladed broadheads.

I tried again the following year, and I tagged a buck that qualified as a trophy in any 20-year-old’s eyes — its 4-point rack notwithstanding.

That buck was the culmination of one of the most improbable and heart-pounding scenarios in bowhunting history. The story’s too long to tell here, but ask me about it in person.

Deer have taught me a lot over the past 40 years.

I’ve learned enough about deer to make a portion of my living writing and lecturing about them. But of all the things I’ve learned about bowhunting, the most important by far is that consistently successful bowhunters have learned not just how to cope with the sport’s unavoidable inherent frustrations, but how to enjoy at least some of them.

One of the biggest frustrations is failure to get within ethical bow range, which I define as roughly 30 yards for accomplished shooters and 20 yards for hunters who are allergic to practice ranges.

Careful stand site selection can go a long way toward reducing this problem, which is why I spend more hours in the woods prior to the season than I do during it.

I like to set several stands to handle different wind conditions and changing travel patterns.

This year, I have nine fixed stands on two different properties, plus several spots in mind where I could use a ground blind or a self-climber.

Multiple stands greatly increase the odds the hunter can put himself in the right place at the right time. It’s a sound theory, but it often seems that the more stands one has, the more likely he is to be sitting in the wrong one.

Archery licenses have traditionally been good for any deer because most bowhunters will only get one or two chances per season.

That was the case during the early days of deer hunting in Kansas despite the fact that game managers were trying to increase the size of the herd as quickly as possible, and it’s still true today.

As far back as I can remember, Missouri’s archery deer licenses have been good for any deer — until recently.

This fall, bowhunters in 36 additional counties will find that they’ve joined bowhunters in what had been a 29-county pilot project and that their so-called any-deer permits are good for any antlerless deer and any buck with four or more 1-inch points on at least one side of its rack.

I’ve opposed this project from its outset, because I think its cost-benefit ratio is out of whack.

I could be wrong about the benefit side of the equation. But even if I am, why should bowhunters — who harvest an insignificant number of deer — be included in the solution?

I sure would have liked to have had an answer to that question one recent evening when I had to pass sure chances at two fat young bucks — exactly the type of deer a meat hunter like me or anyone looking for his or her first archery deer would be happy to tag.

Although I didn’t shoot either of those deer and I won’t shoot a protected buck in the future, I’ll admit to being tempted.

I deeply resent the fact that the source of that temptation was the agency I depend upon to make my outdoor experiences as pleasant as possible.