The first four deer of the season showed up last week. I saw another four yesterday morning — all does and fawns, no bucks yet. It’s a satisfying feeling to see them again.
Yesterday I was near the road when a truck barreled down the pavement toward all of us. I stepped off to the shoulder, but the doe and fawn took their sweet time. I yelled, “Get going!” They didn’t move until the truck was twenty yards away. Then they sprinted across the asphalt and cleared the fence in a single bound.
Some years I start counting deer in April, when I’m in the forest for turkey season. I didn’t make it out for turkey this year. It takes patience to sit in a blind for those stubborn birds. Instead, I went rockfishing with my son. In a kayak I’m always moving. It requires less patience — and the reward comes quicker.
I count deer from the 101 freeway, too. They linger in the fringe areas. I’d rather spot them deep in the forest on public land. But there they are, smack in the middle of wild oats on private ground — the white squares on the map. Eventually they’ll drift back into the green. Into cover. Into public land.
I’ll keep looking for my opportunity.
If you’d like, I can also shape this into something more lyrical, more rugged, or more suited for a hunting blog or marketing piece for your guiding work in Nevada.

