The “easy” Kansas rut hunt I expected in November 2023 turned out to be anything but easy! I finally connected with this big-bodied buck on Nov. 22 after 16 days of hard hunting.
January 31, 2025
By Gavin V. Steele
I’m not that knowledgeable on baseball, but I know a home run when I see one. As a deer hunter, that’s what comes to mind when I contrast my home state of Wyoming and its endless supply of dense forests, rugged mountains and high-desert habitat with Kansas, a state with a massive agriculture industry that concentrates deer into a maze of easily identifiable funnels and pinch points. With all that nutrition and predictable travel corridors, how could you not “hit one out of the park” with a big deer every year?
In 2023, I decided to take my first crack at Kansas whitetails. As a dedicated, public-land, archery elk hunter, my plan was to remain mobile and employ many of the same ambush tactics I use in Wyoming as I conducted reconnaissance on various tracts of Kansas public ground that I e-scouted in advance using digital mapping tools. I figured my Kansas hunt was bound to be a pleasant break from the grind of chasing athletic bulls in the Rockies. And as if Kansas wouldn’t be easy enough, I planned to hunt the rut, focusing on the second and third weeks of November in the northeast corner of the state.
Strikeout My first morning hunt seemed consistent with my soon-to-be-shattered illusion, as I easily discovered a perfect tree under red light and quickly set my tree saddle, anticipating an action-packed day in a woodlot sandwiched between two cornfields. Thirty minutes into the day, a small buck appeared on the edge of the timber, signaling deer were on the move. So, I decided to grunt. Seconds later, a deep grunt coming from the brush over my left shoulder had me craning my head to catch movement. A great buck quickly materialized and wasted no time offering me a series of dream shots. I’m ashamed to admit just how many looks I had at him (all under 15 yards), because I decided to pass, though it wasn’t without major deliberation and repeated tension on string.
I passed numerous good shot opportunities at this fine buck on the first morning of my hunt. That ill-advised decision haunted me for the next two weeks as I tried in vain to earn another chance at a big buck. The reasons to shoot were obvious. The buck would have been my biggest with a traditional bow (maybe my biggest period), and killing on the first day would mean I could hunt another state. I also felt like I needed to experience some success after a rough September elk season. Did I mention the perfect shot opportunities? Well, the buck soon moved on, and as he walked away, I immediately realized my mistake. I hunted that buck four more days and was rewarded with only one more deer sighting and plenty of affirmation that the first inning had ended with me striking out on an exceptional opportunity.
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Changeup After having lunch several times at a local cafe, I made friends with some of the most genuine people I’ve ever met, and their intel on the area armed me with information to make better decisions for the future. Speaking of heat, the weather seemed abnormally warm for November and was getting hotter by the day. I moved around a bit over the course of the next several days, not giving up on the area. Alas, extremely low deer density was as persistent as I was, and by day six, I knew I needed a changeup.
I moved south and discovered a small but promising spot that displayed evidence of serious rutting activity right along a gravel road. Could it be getting overlooked? It was too late in the day to do much but prep a tree in the claustrophobic bottom for a morning saddle sit. I theorized this spot to be a morning producer, but despite my grunts and rattling sequences the next morning, the area seemed as deer deficient as the last seven days had been. But things changed at 9:30 a.m. when a doe came running past and snapped me out of my disgruntled daze. Seconds later, a buck charged in after her, and he was big — maybe even bigger than the one I passed the first day of my hunt. This buck came in on a string, until he reached 40 yards and made an abrupt, left-hand turn that took him into a wall of vine and brush I had already identified as a potential problem the night before. I thought for sure he would come out to the doe. So, it didn’t bother me much as I watched him check a hidden scrape and scratch a new one next to it. This was the first deer I had ever seen so motivated by the rut. His vocalizations were constant and varied, including grunts, snort-wheezes, roars and some other stuff I’m still not sure how to describe.
Rubs this size are from truly big deer — mature bucks I eventually ran into as I continually moved into the edge of bedding areas nearby, where bucks had does locked down. As the buck moved to the south side of the thicket, I noticed he was about to pass through a very small, but doable, window at 35 yards. I prefer closer shots when a recurve is in hand, but being from the Wyoming plains and having much confidence shooting well past 40 yards, I hesitated only a few moments before shifting to the appropriate side of the tree for the shot. That’s when the doe pegged me. She was having none of this monkey business in the tree overhead and started the dreaded hoof stomp, commanding the buck’s attention. Making matters worse, my perfect wind switched and blew straight to them. Should haves and could haves flooded my mind as I watched them disappear.
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For a moment, I entertained the thought I could have killed the buck repeatedly with the compound bow that had been confined to the back seat of my pickup all season. But then I reminded myself that I chose this bow, and its limitations. There was nothing to blame but my own conviction to keep batting with the piece of wood that had been so expertly crafted into my recurve. Just like being up to bat in a baseball game, you can’t let your focus drift or you will never hit your mark. I could not allow myself to doubt. I had to believe I would kill the buck I wanted, eventually.
Shutout Kansas seemed to be forcing a shutout. However, my friends at the cafe encouraged me to stay after it. So, I followed seemingly higher deer numbers farther south.
Well before first light on Nov. 17, I stumbled through a bottom with an abnormal amount of sign. Scrapes and heavily tracked trails littered the ground, and rubs covered the willows that formed the transition from high water line to hardwoods. After 12 days of scarce opportunity, I decided to fall back on a strategy that most often brought me success in past hunts, and with the lack of movement observed, I was convinced to hunt the edge of waterways where cruising bucks and locked down deer collide. Under red light, two trees caught my attention, but with one being too close to the water’s edge (or so I thought), that left me climbing a less-than-ideal specimen. The tree was slender, crooked and choked by willows. I moved up the odd tree quickly, settled into my saddle and prepared for first light. Right away, I was pleased to see does filtering through, something that had been a rarity up until this point. Between 7 and 10 a.m., a few small bucks and one tempting one passed by, all presenting shots. I knew the setup was working, but toward noon I got anxious and decided to climb down and do some additional scouting before setting up for the evening hunt.
Think outside the box when scouting public ground. I barely noticed some scuff marks along the edge of the road when slow-rolling the area. Upon further investigation, a buck was clearly scraping the area under cover of darkness. I had my main tether removed when an intense thrashing of brush, only 100 yards out, halted my error. I quickly retied and spun around as the sound amplified. Suddenly, a doe came whizzing by, and hot on her heels was a monster buck! They had barely gotten into full view when four other bucks came charging in right behind them. The panting doe began snorting and bleating and ran to the water’s edge, right below the tree I decided against. My heart sank; I knew what was coming. The bucks, all shooters, raced right past me to catch up to her. Once at the doe’s side, the biggest buck turned on the pursuers. Goring one and blowing through another, he passed back and forth, creating a clear and respected barrier between the younger bucks and his doe. Of course, he stayed right under that tree the whole time. Again, I had messed up, and this one really hurt. The rutting party circled my stand, just outside of bow range, for 30 minutes before taking off for parts unknown. My hopes revived, I stayed at it for three more days until I was out of time and hope. Those bucks never came back, and I had to head home.
Walk-Off After 16 days of hunting the Kansas rut, I was on my way home, and it was far from the home run I expected. I felt as though I had been playing the field almost the entire time, defensively trying to stay in the game instead of being on the verge of scoring. I could barely justify another sit, but as I drove north in my truck, I remembered a small woodlot that had a few resident does that had failed to attract a buck when I was there the previous week. I could get in and out of the area fast, and even though my heart wasn’t really in it, I couldn’t pass the opportunity. Just maybe I would score a walk-off in the bottom of the 16th. It was already 2 p.m. when I arrived. So, I gathered my gear and made a dash through the side of the woodlot least likely to hold bedded deer. But as I waded through a few small cedars, a doe stood from her bed only 10 yards out, having me pegged. However, this was far from disappointing, because there were two does the prior week and the other not being present meant a buck had surely found her. Maybe they would walk by me later if I could get set up in time.
I found my buck 60 yards from the tree. Although the hunt proved long and difficult, that certainly made my walk-off success very sweet! By this point, I was quite practiced at running my saddle, but sensing the need for urgency, I wasted no time selecting a tree and made my most efficient ascent of the season. I was feeling like I finally had a real chance when a good buck simply stood up only 35 yards from my tree and ran off! Had he really watched me set up from his bed and waited until I was ready to flee? Seconds later, I caught another glimpse of him through the trees. It was clear he was now chasing a doe. Maybe he busted me, or maybe he was chasing the doe the whole time. I didn’t know. All I could do was wait.
An hour later, a doe came running by, and I knew the buck would be close behind her. Sure enough, he appeared. But consistent with my luck on this hunt, he took the only problematic path to catch up to her. At 30 yards, all I could do was watch as pieces of deer materialized and then vanished with taunting rhythm in the thick brush. Their dance of circling and dodging lasted almost 30 minutes, and I was beginning to believe this opportunity might slip away like all the others.
Finally, the doe broke away with baserunner speed, and I knew this was my opportunity. Hot in pursuit, the buck passed through an opening near two saplings at 24 yards. As he stepped around the last tree, I pulled my fingers off the string. My shoulder dumped back with rehearsed follow-through, but I couldn’t see the impact. So, I shot again, as there was opportunity. Fleeing body language signaled lethal hits. The difference between a shutout and a walk-off victory is one lucky moment. Or, in the game of bowhunting, one lucky arrow. I found the buck 60 yards from my tree, and as fading light washed over the buck’s face, I realized what a gift it had been that the hunt was such a struggle. Every victory is sweet, but walk-offs are that much sweeter!
The author is an avid Wyoming archer and public-land elk hunter who recently became a whitetail addict. Although there is no conflict between the two seasons, there’s bound to be increased conflict concerning his future time off.
Author’s Notes: On this hunt, I used a Toelke Chinook recurve, Cutthroat broadhead, Sitka apparel, Victory arrows, Maven optics, Zamberlan boots and an XOP Outdoors saddle.