There are endless opinions out there about gear. New camo patterns. New broadheads. New optics. New packs designed by hunters who go after dinosaurs.
Gear is fun.
But techniques fascinate me more—because they don’t require a single trip to the store.
You don’t need a new release.
You don’t need a different rifle.
You don’t need a lighter tripod.
You just need discipline.
And the deadliest technique I’ve ever used?
Patience.
The Turkey That Taught Me (Again)
This lesson came courtesy of a wild tom—but it might as well have been a buck.
I did everything right.
Slipped in at dark.
Listened to the birds pitch down off the roost.
Soft calls. Not too aggressive.
Played hard to get.
By 11:00 a.m., though, the mental negotiations began.
They’ve moved on.
Midday is dead.
You’ve done your time.
There’s that hill forty yards away… maybe just check it.
You already know how this ends.
I stepped out of the blind. Slipped toward the hill. Took maybe a minute.
A big, long-bearded tom was standing where he saw me before I saw him.
I tried to ease back into position. Tried to sneak him.
He ran away in 3 seconds
Patience: 1
Me: 0
The Blacktail Parallel
If you’ve hunted the Columbian black-tailed deer long enough, you’ve lived this story.
You glass a draw for an hour. Nothing.
You sit a water source. Quiet.
You watch the edge of brush. Dead still.
Then the clock starts talking.
You should move.
They’re not here.
Check that next ridge.
And the moment you stand up?
That forked horn you’ve been dreaming about steps into the exact opening you just vacated.
Blacktails survive because they move when most hunters don’t want to wait anymore.
Why Patience Works
Patience isn’t passive.
It’s active restraint.
It’s staying in the blind when your legs are stiff.
It’s glassing the same bush three more minutes.
It’s letting the woods come back to life after you think it’s over.
Animals operate on comfort, not our schedules.
When you finally match their timing instead of forcing yours—that’s when things change.
The Funny Part
Failing at patience is almost comical.
We do 95% of the work perfectly.
Then sabotage ourselves in the final 5%.
We out-hike the deer.
We out-scout the deer.
We out-prepare the deer.
And then we get bored.
The animals don’t.