Wanna be a Buck Whisperer? By Mike Handley Long before Daddy brought home the '72 Maverick that was to be my first car, I'd accompany Mother to the supermarket and then sneak away to the discount store next door to buy doe pee with my "allowance." I shot a buck the first time I used the foul-smelling stuff, and I've been a believer ever since. A few years later, I decided to see if the hype about grunt calls was true. Though they weren't yet available in rural Alabama stores, I called and ordered one directly from a manufacturer. Now I wouldn't go afield without one hanging around my neck. It took a little longer for me to buy into "rattling," and longer still to try a doe bleat. Back in the 1970s and '80s, the Heart of Dixie's buck-to-doe ratio was (and still is) out of whack. So it wasn't until I traveled outside the state that I lured bucks to the clash of antlers and fell in love with the technique. And once I had confidence in rattling, the results have been wonderful -- from Mississippi to Texas. The first time I used a bleat, while bowhunting in Illinois, I persuaded a 6-pointer to do a 180 and return within bow range, where it bedded down for the rest of the morning. The next year, I arrowed a record book 8-pointer in Nebraska that I also turned by bleating. I've enjoyed numerous encounters with whitetails since adding these things to my personal bag of tricks. But none can compare with my experience in Kansas last October. After four and a half days of playing musical stands and seeing very few deer, I was ready for a change of scenery. I wound up spending the last afternoon in a new stand -- about 150 yards deeper into the woods from another stand I'd already hunted twice. I returned to that general area because it was one of few places I'd seen any buck sign at all. A 200-incher also had been seen (and photographed) in that tract a couple of seasons earlier. Alas, as the first sun I'd seen in a week began slowly to disappear, I decided to go to ground a bit early in hopes of seeing deer in a clover field at the edge of the pasture I had to cross to return to my car. I moved cautiously and silently toward the woods' edge and soon saw deer feeding in the clover. I made it to the very edge of the trees and leaned on a steel gate to watch, since it was already too late to shoot. A buck began chasing a doe half its size, and then I saw a third deer -- more than twice as big as the buck I'd been watching -- walk stiffly toward the others. The newcomer's rack was thick and very tall. I thought the two bucks were going to fight, at first, but they merely rubbed noses and resumed feeding, while the little doe sneaked back toward the timber. That's when I decided to have some fun. Still leaning on the gate, bow on the ground, I lifted my grunt call and put it to use. Both bucks lifted their heads and stared hard. They were perhaps 60 yards away from me. Knowing that my hunt was finished, I grunted aggressively -- testing the limits. The big buck decided that it had better get closer to the doe. It lowered its head, began sniffing the air, and then gave chase. Actually, it seemed more like it was herding the doe away from me! As soon as those two were back into the trees, I flipped my grunt tube and began bleating through the opposite end. I use a Doe-N-Buc call manufactured by Woods Wise that can produce both buck and doe vocalizations, depending upon which end you blow. The small buck, perhaps feeling left out after losing his potential girlfriend to a more mature buck, walked straight to me as I continued bleating. It didn't stop until it was a mere 5 feet from me. I froze, but kept offering the occasional bleat. I could almost see its eyelashes! After five minutes, the confused animal circled around and jumped the barbed-wire fence between us. I bleated again, and it came within 5 feet of me a second time -- directly downwind, on MY side of the fence. If I'd had an arrow in my hand, I could've speared it! When the buck couldn't get me to move after five more minutes, it stomped its right foot. I answered by stomping my own and bleating again. I lost my own breath when the deer took two steps closer, leaning in to sniff deeply. At that point, I was both elated and -- to be honest -- a little unnerved. Rather than continue the game, I decided to keep my mouth shut. I didn't want to write a "How I survived a goring" story. The buck never spooked. When I ceased with the "sweet nothins," it simply walked away and disappeared into the woods. When I related the story to my wife, she joked that I was the "buck whisperer." I'd never actually call myself that, but the episode sure makes me glad that I decided to give bleating a try. Not only has the technique put venison in my freezer and a record book certificate on my wall, but it's also provided me with some great stories and memories. There will always be another buck to shoot. But to me, it's memories like this that'll keep me hunting; not the chance of collecting yet another piece of wall art. If you've never tried bleating or have summarily dismissed it as hogwash, I urge you to consider it. There are a lot of great calls out there today, from the grunt-bleat call I carry to canisters that require a simple flick of the wrist. If you don't take advantage of it, you're missing a great chance to become a buck whisperer. Note: If you'd like to get a chance at that still-hoofing 200-incher (which has become known as "Buckzilla") or at the beefy buck I saw on my last day in Jefferson County, Kan., give Mike Nickels a call at (785) 863-3465. His Old School Guide Service is the only commercial hunting operation in the heart of big buck country. Buckmasters Online Magazine