The coffee's on. Don't bother wiping your boots clean; nobody
else does.

     Minnesota's deer season opened Saturday and it was just nice to
be back in the woods again.

     No phones, no car traffic, no crowds.

     Dawn oozed through the popple tops. And before a brisk and
biting northwest wind forced the ear muffs on, the woods were full
of nifty, natural sounds.

     A few opening day thoughts from the tree stand by the swamp:

     How can a running red squirrel - weighing mere ounces - sound
like a 200-pound buck deer prancing behind your back?

     The opening hour was periodically interrupted by distant
gunfire. Sometimes it sounds as if you're the only one who hasn't
seen a deer?

     Why does one's nose run?

     The woods were still very dark, just a hint of light in the
east, when seven of us left camp Saturday. We were bonded with
anticipation; each carried his own visions of big bucks in the cross
hairs.

     Deer camp attendance was about the same:  John Larson of
Burnsville and his son, Scott. Brother Rick Schara, of North St.
Paul, brother Robert, of Hutchinson and nephew, Steve Schara, of
Andover.

     A first-time deer hunter, Jay Epping of Coon Rapids, has joined
the party, eager to learn and discover the mystique and mystery of
the whitetail.

     It didn't take long. Epping had a doe and fawn walk by. He
watched them lift their keen noses and flick their sharp ears.

     By 8 a.m., a little reality frosted the cheeks and fingertips.
Whitetail hunting is the most challenging hunt on this side of the
oceans. The woods are thick and a whitetail can disappear with one
step, one bound. Heck, sometimes you can't see them when they're
standing right in full view. An amazing animal, the whitetail.

     The wind picked up, the sun was gone behind clouds and snow
showers added atmosphere to the bleakness of a November woods.

     Over the hill and through a swamp, Scott Larson was sitting in
a spot that I discovered last year. It's a bottleneck of thick brush
between two grassy swamps. The place just looked deerish.

     And it was.

     Scott saw three deer in the morning, including two that were
being stalked by a coyote. It was a nifty natural play to watch, he
said. Scott couldn't see antlers so he didn't join the coyote on the
hunt.

     Lots of Minnesota deer hunters were only looking for antlers
Saturday. It was bucks-only hunting in Zone 1 this year to give the
herd a chance to recover from last winter's losses.

     In our deer camp, it wouldn't be a change as we chose to hunt
bucks-only. If anything, it means you always have an excuse for
getting skunked.

     By 9 a.m. the sound of gunfire was almost totally absent, a
surprise since the season was barely two hours old.

     Maybe the deer weren't moving. Maybe the number of hunters was
down.

     By 10 a.m., I was convinced the deer were not moving much in
the wind. I had not seen a hint of deer, and that did not change
through the noon hour.

     But my optimism wasn't shaking like the dried oak leaves
rattling by my head. A buck would come by, sooner or later. The
woods were full of buck sign - ground scrapes and rubs. In fact, it
seemed as if there was more deer sign than a year ago.

     My time with the whitetail would come, I figured. My stand
adjoined a giant red pine that whispered to me in the breeze. The
ol' tree has seen many big bucks walk past. The ol' tree whispered
to me, "Not to worry. Enjoy your view, enjoy the hunt, enjoy
life."

     That's what deer opening day is all about, I agreed to the
tree.

     Maybe tomorrow, something with antlers shall come by.