I never played hooky as a kid, but as a teacher I was pretty good at it. I'd be driving to school on a crisp November morning, spot a stud buck playing rodeo with a doe, and by the time I got to work I was feeling a little peaked. One nice thing about being a teacher is that not only do you write your own sick notes, but your boss hires someone to do your work. This is a wonderful system for adult hooky players with a "doctor's appointment" that coincides with the whitetail rut.

But I'm not confessing my slovenly work ethic and lack of autumn morals to cleanse my soul; I'm doing it to tell a story. I had scheduled an "urgent professional appointment" for a school day in November, and I had received permission to attend, provided I was back to work by 11:30.

I figured I could attend my meeting--one I'd scheduled with a certain monster buck--until about 9 a.m., at which time I'd have to bail from my tree stand, run to my truck, shuck off my hunting clothes and break every speed limit for 65 miles in order to make fourth period. But this buck was worth any disciplinary action my principal (or a state trooper) could dole out.

Trouble was, my monster was a no-show. I waited for him 'til 9:15, then slid down the tree like it was a firepole and trotted toward the truck. I'd covered maybe 60 yards when I ran headlong into the buck, which I'd nicknamed Picket Fence, and his doe of the moment. They were standing on a trail that led right to the base of the tree stand I'd just vacated. The doe ran one direction, Picket and his 12-point rack went another, and I fell to my knees in disgust.

Not only would I be late for work, but I'd just spooked the very buck I'd spent the entire season hunting. Anyone who has deer hunted much knows that killing whitetails--especially mature animals--is largely a stealth game, and the longer you can fly under a buck's radar, the better.

Generally, I think hunters give big whitetails far too much credit for thought, but that only applies to an unpressured buck moving naturally through his world. Give that deer a sense that he's being hunted, and he morphs into a Mensa.

Still, spooking or bumping deer is inevitable. We stink too much, walk too loudly and are in too much of a hurry to muck around in the whitetail woods without grabbing their attention at least once in awhile. And even when we're careful, accidents happen.

Thankfully, there are varying degrees of bumping a buck. Remember, whitetails are largely a civilized critter, perfectly at home in farm country, resort areas, even suburbia. If a buck got goosey every time he encountered a person, he'd be catatonic before he lost his spots. So while bumping a buck is rarely a good thing, it's seldom the kiss of death, either. Let's take a look at some common bumping scenarios and how to handle them.

Buck A
It's early morning, with the sun not even above the treetops, and you're still-hunting a brushy ridgetop on a farm you've never hunted before. With the wind in your face and the sun at your back, you start cat-sneaking toward a suspected bedding area. An odd shape in the brush catches your attention, and when you kneel for a better look, your binocs pick up the face of a bedded behemoth returning your stare. Before you can think, much less shoot, the bruiser rises and bombs downhill.

Analysis
You're probably in good shape with this deer, and you've got the sun to thank for that; it likely prevented the buck from nailing your silhouette. And of course the wind allowed you to see the buck in the first place. The buck likely spooked on principle as much as outright panic. He caught glimpse of something unusual, heard a sound that wasn't quite right and decided to exit stage left.