The sun was just kissing the eastern horizon to start a new day when I heard the nearly imperceptible sounds of a fawn bleat. With the wind calm and a heavy frost covering the Kansas countryside, I knew the deer was still far up a heavily timbered ridge. Still, I trained my binoculars in the direction of the sound to see what might be headed my way.

A decoy used in conjunction with calling can be the final step needed to pull a buck in close.

Before long I heard the steady, measured crunching of a large animal walking through dry leaves in the saddle above me, and moments later I caught sight of a forlorn-looking button buck as he plodded in my direction. As he trudged down the gentle slope, emitting a soft, nasal bleat with nearly every step, he looked as if he'd just lost his last friend. Without pausing, he crossed the bench that held my treestand and dropped down into the valley beyond, where I eventually lost sight of him in the thick cover bordering the creek below me.

Not long afterward, more deer music reached my ears, and I turned to scan the ridge once more. A doe was coming at a much quicker pace than the button buck, and as leaves crunched loudly under her hooves, she sent plaintive bleats echoing off the surrounding hillsides. With the chasing phase of the rut at hand on this early November morning, I didn't hesitate to ease my bow from its resting place and prepare for what might follow.

Reaching the bench, the big doe stopped, scanned the valley before her, and then glanced nervously toward her back trail. Predictably, the tending grunts of an amorous buck drifted down the ridge, and as the buck marched into view with his nose to the ground, I pressed myself against the trunk of the gnarly, old oak to blend into the bark. As he came up behind the doe, I tried to calm my pounding heart while judging the buck's antlers.

With four long points per beam and an inside spread of perhaps 18 inches, this buck was tempting. But I knew far bigger bucks cruised these woods, so I held my fire as the doe and buck continued on and disappeared into the valley.

Shortly after that, things got really crazy. Crashing sounds like a bulldozer tearing up the woods rose from the valley, along with grunting, bleating, bawling, and a couple of violent snort-wheezes followed by the clashing of antlers as two or more bucks parried for the services of the big doe.

The ruckus went on for many minutes before a pair of combatants, apparently having had enough, came marching up the ridge; first the same 8-pointer I'd passed earlier, followed by a dandy 10. Although the 10-pointer had four broken points and a broken main beam, he was a mature deer with a lot of character. As he slipped across the ridge above me, I stopped him with a sharp grunt and sent a heavy arrow through his vitals, ending perhaps the most exciting morning of deer hunting I've experienced in more than 30 years of bowhunting whitetails.

It's no secret that deer calling works, but many hunters rely only on grunt calls and rattling. Sure, start with those basics, but don't stop there. As I witnessed during that one morning in Kansas, whitetails produce a broad range of sounds, and every sound has value in pulling deer within bow range. To enjoy maximum deer-calling success, learn to mimic the whole herd.