During the last year of undergraduate studies at Emporia State University in Kansas, I worked as a bouncer at a local college bar called the “Lie-Brary”. About two blocks off-campus, the place was usually hopping on a Friday and Saturday night. My job was usually pretty easy. I worked with a crew of guys that had each other’s backs and were strong as oxen. I was the runt of the bunch. The job was simple and had a few golden rules that the owner required us to follow. One of the many jobs was to understand when our guests had too many drinks. In a college town, the men were usually looking to connect with women. Guy to guy, you would joke about getting your beer goggles on, a reference to diminishing cognitive ability and reduced “standards”. In those days working as a bouncer, I was pretty sure some of the guys who walked in the bar would make out with a telephone pole given enough alcohol. However, dealing with the downside of guys who got their beer goggles on and knowing when you might have to step in was part of the job. Thankfully, I graduated from college with having only one major altercation as a bouncer and an appreciation for how stupid people get when they are flat out intoxicated. I couldn’t believe how one thing could take hold of someone so much and lower their faculties.
I didn’t start hunting until I was 24 after being married. As a young hunter, I had a lot to learn. My in-laws and wife were as patient as could be and my enthusiasm could not be understated. Hunters naturally go through an ark. As much as you don’t put on a work belt with a hammer and call yourself a carpenter, you don’t just walk into the wild and be a skilled hunter. It takes time, discipline, humility, honesty, ethics and practice.
There are things that will come easy to you and others that won’t. From the Kansas December rifle season with my in-laws in 1997 to the Appalachian Mountains near Liberty Kentucky and now in the Rocky Mountains of Idaho I have had plenty of time to hone my skills. I must also mention that I have been lucky to have been ushered into the sport by some of the best people I know. As of late, I have bucked the statistics in filling tags for Bear, Pronghorn, Elk, and Deer. But even to this day, there is one skill that is a bit allusive to me despite having worked construction and majoring in theatre set design and construction.
You might assume that being able to accurately measure size is something every guy is naturally good at. After all, we seem to be preoccupied with it as some sort of tribal display of our own awesomeness. Men are supposed to be able to judge height or distance at a mere glance. Without using calipers we instinctively are supposed to know what size wrench or socket to use for any nut or bolt. We have invented different sized screws, nails, bolts, and hardware. Even Sir Mix-A-Lot identified the appropriate measurements for his preference for a women’s backside. Judging rack size is one of those skills all male hunters should magically be endowed with.
Now women aren’t immune to it either. In fact, I have been near a group of women discussing how big their engagement ring was or often wasn’t, on more than one occasion. Back in the eighties, it appeared that women tried their best to have the largest poofiest hair possible without the ornate wigs found the in late 17th century. The amount of hair spray cans used to achieve these feats of fashion surely put more CFC’s into the air than any other source. On that note, a hearty shout out to Sinead O’Connor for showing women the way to shorter hairstyles. (Sorry, I personally think she rocks the look.)
Judging an animal, particularly antler size, from the ground, blind or tree stand isn’t as easy as you might think. It is so common in fact, that hunters have devised terms like “Ground Shrink” to define the phenomenon of recovering an animal only to find the antlers to be smaller than you expected. Another term often thrown out is “Buck Fever”. Simply put this is a kind of nervousness or uncontrollable shaking when a hunter sees the big game they are hunting. I tend to think that the two are very much interrelated and therefore should be formally called Deer Goggles. Much like Beer Goggles, this state limits the hunter’s ability to properly judge anything and drastically impairs control over their faculties. Unlike the effects of alcohol, I am not referring to an unsafe situation here. Properly defined, Deer Goggles is the adrenaline induced inability to judge antler size.
To illustrate this point, let’s go back to November of 2010 in Oklahoma. I had been invited to the annual BroCo Deer Hunt (see God. Family. Country. Opening Day). Brothers and Company is one of the premier agencies in the industry for ad content, brand management, and video production. BroCo was founded by Paul Brothers and managed by guys like Eric Barnes, Allen Miller, Jeff Tolle, Kevin Waggoner, and John Dunlap. They represent an amazing group of talented professionals.
This camp is an assembly of some of the best people in the outdoor industry who represent some of the most iconic brands. To be safe and manageable, there are a limited number of seats at the table, so to get an invitation is meaningful and quite an honor. Eric would start camp thanking everyone for coming and go over safety. He would also go over a briefing on how to judge an animal’s size. The purpose was part education for those who didn’t understand how and also for the proper management of the resources on the property. I can tend to overthink things and my brain still tries to overcomplicate judging rack size. But Eric’s confident tone and explanation seemed to ease things a bit and it made sense plus that year I had the Bushnell 4.5-30×50 Elite 6500 with DOA reticle. Not only could I power the scope up to see a tick on the deer’s hide but I had a reticle built for judging antler size. How could I go wrong?
So here is how a hunter finds himself affected by Deer Goggles. Imagine you are sitting comfortably in a tree stand. You have been up since before the crack of dawn and in the evening stand since the early part of the afternoon. You finally found the balance between the cool elements and body heat. The wind gently sways the stand as you glass out over beautiful countryside as peace comes over you. You might, and I mean might find yourself a bit sleepy. This happens because you either stayed up way too late the night before or in my case, your mind, heart, and soul are feeling connected to the great outdoors. A skilled and vigilant hunter as me would start playing the head bobbing game as I went in and out of consciousness peaking from heavy eyelids at the field before me in between bobs. And then it happens in the field before my eyes deer start to materialize like magic. Calmly and coolly, I grab my binoculars and scan the field, no bucks. It’s after the first-morning hunt and per standard BroCo deer camp rules, I grab my rifle and harvest a nice doe knowing full well the crew of us from Bushnell will donate the meat to a local charity in Kansas City. One tag filled and one to go, back to the head bob. Until wait, is that… Antlers! What did Eric say again about judging, oh never mind I have 30 power! I slam the scope to its highest power pushing the change ring to past its normal stop as if a few more micrometers over meant more magnification. The rifle is raised the DOA reticle is there but my brain isn’t processing it, this buck is going down. The shot was perfectly placed as the buck stumbles off into the brush just out of sight. Oh boy, oh boy… making my rifle safe, I grab my phone and text I just shot a 130” deer. Praises come, congratulations and a whole array of well-wishes. Eric reminds me to stay put until Jerad Langley comes to pick me up.
“Right,” I tell myself, “settle in I have 45 minutes left of shooting light.” Thinking to myself I better get my gear around, I start the process of putting my range finder, binos and items into my pack as I thank God for this opportunity and harvest. I remove the remaining rounds out of my rifle and make sure it is secure. I decide to go ahead and power down the scope and as I am doing it notice this red dot near the 10 power indicator. That is when it hits me, the technical data about second focal plane scopes and the DOA 600 reticle starting pouring into my mind like a waterfall. Almost instantaneously, the doubts start creeping in. “How big was that deer? Who all did I text? Oh crap, I am….” The headlights from Jerad’s old Suburban are seen coming into the field and panic powers over me. As I practically jump out of the tree stand, Jerad pulls up to the doe first and a group of guys jumps out to load her onto the hitch rack. “Crap! I am his last pick up”, I think to myself, “no hiding it now!”. As I get up close to the truck, my co-worker and good friend Jeff Redding asks me where the buck is. I reluctantly point to the brush where I last saw him. Jeff and another guy head over to it as I try and ease into the teasing I know is surely about to come. Now Jeff was at the time the Rifle Scope product manager for Bushnell. The DOA reticle was his brainchild and Jeff knows how to use it inside and out. After all, he trained me on the scope. So when he comes out of the brush solo dragging my deer with one hand and says, “Liam, I didn’t find a 130” deer but I did find this small dog-like deer with a basket rack… is this your deer?”, you have to own it. Needless to say, I won the Ground Shrink award that year at BroCo Deer Camp and it is one of the best memories I have of deer camp.
Today, you won’t find me texting anyone antler size. I still tend to overthink it too much in trying to estimate how many inches. But if you find yourself in the same predicament as I did go ahead, get your Deer Goggles on!
- L. Yarbrough, Bucks & Beers
