I have been writing outdoor columns for over 30 years. I thought it would be fun to go back in the archives and print a few of the oldies. Below is the first in this series.
Go Easy on the Scent Wafers
It was my annual bow hunt in Bath County, an opportunity to fell a deer with a deadly shot to the heart. Trouble is, for the past couple seasons, my arrows have remained largely unreleased, confined to my quiver as the deer sniffed me out before coming within range.
But this year would be different. First, I washed all my hunting clothes in a special scent-free detergent, and to top it off, I put them in a sealed bag along with not one, not two, but three white acorn scent wafers. Any odor at all from my direction would be the sweet aroma of acorns wafting in the breeze.
As I slipped on my hunting clothes early that morning, I noticed a very strong odor. Once clothed, I smelled a little like the George Washington National Forest in heat. It was pretty powerful stuff, but I felt I was ready for any situation as I climbed in my stand – marinated in acorn scent – just before the break of dawn.
As light filtered into the forest, I was joined in my tree stand by a curious fox squirrel, which surely must have felt he had discovered the mother of all acorns. He climbed on the small platform beside me, stood on his hind legs, and looked for the goodies that he had smelled. Though there were no actual words spoken, a tacit conversation between my new tree stand companion and me went something like this.
Squirrel: Okay, I know it’s here, the Great Acorn. I smelled it as soon as I climbed out of my den tree. So where is it?
Me: Please go away. There is no acorn up here. I used three white acorn scent wafers to disguise my human odor so that I can shoot a deer with my bow. I am expecting a big buck to come down this trail momentarily. I would appreciate it if you would find another place to look for nuts.
Squirrel: I don’t know who you are or what you are, but I’m willing to go toe-to-toe if necessary for the Great Acorn. I know it’s here someplace. If I could get a hold of that baby, I wouldn’t have to worry about finding any more nuts until spring. So where is it?
Me: I’m telling you, you are not smelling acorns. You’re smelling scent wafers, designed to imitate the scent of real acorns. I probably should have just used one as instructed, but I haven’t killed a deer with my bow in three years and I’m getting desperate. Now, please go away or you’ll spook the deer with all this commotion.
Squirrel: May I remind you that I am a fox squirrel. I can easily rip through the shell of a black walnut with my teeth. Can you imagine the hole I can put in your hunting boots? I want that acorn.
Finally, I waved my hand a little to shoo the pesky rodent away. But he didn’t budge. If anything, he edged closer and began to bear those two, shiny front teeth. This squirrel was not easily discouraged.
I hate to resort to violence. I really prefer negotiations followed by sanctions if necessary, but finally I picked up a spare arrow beside me and gave the squirrel a good poke in the tummy. There is only one thing that rogue squirrels understand. Power. Weapons of mass destruction. I had them and he didn’t. The squirrel scrambled down the tree and made his way towards a hickory grove in the distance.
In spite of all my efforts, I never saw a single deer that morning. I heard later that they were all down in the cornfield, a huge herd with several nice bucks. I wonder if they make Silver Queen corn scent wafers?