How Moon Positions Impact Whitetail Movement
By: Adam Hays
The ﬁrst morning of a hunt is always filled with anticipation. And this one was no exception.
I was nearly 1,000 miles from my home in Ohio and more than halfway through the month of November. Every tree was bare, leaves stripped away by the strong Kansas winds. Every tree, that is, except for the pin oak into which I’d tucked my Lone Wolf stand. I’d chosen this spot for my ﬁrst morning because of its central location on the farm and its advantageous view. I literally could see just about every square inch of the property.
This wasn’t my ﬁrst visit to the 80-acre parcel. With the two previous bow seasons and a 170-inch 10-pointer under my belt from 2012, I had a pretty good idea where I needed to be. Even though this tract was much smaller than most others I normally hunt in Kansas, it was a little piece of whitetail heaven. The place was laid out for bowhunting, and I knew it held a great population of does: perfect for this time of year. Not to mention there were three major bedding areas within earshot of my rattling antlers, and I was in a travel corridor smack in the middle of all of them.
I’d chased a really big 8-pointer on this farm the previous November and December, with nothing to show for my efforts other than a few trail camera pictures of the stud. But word was he was still alive and in the area; in fact, two weeks before my return, a friend had had an encounter with him but couldn’t close the deal.
“He’s a giant this year,” my friend noted. “Easily over 170 inches, and looks like his tines are pushing 14 inches.”
What more does a guy need to hear? Although the buck had been missing in action since that encounter, I had a hunch this would be the week he’d make another appearance.
As daylight broke across the 80, the landscape came to life — and deer were on the move. A narrow creek splits the farm in half, running diagonally from northwest to southeast, creating a main vein for activity. Deer were moving in and out of the cottonwoods all morning.
Then, with my naked eye I caught movement at the top end of the farm. As I focused my Meoptas on the spot, there he was! The buck had just emerged from a thick bedding area in the southwest corner of the farm, and he was marching downhill to the creek with a purpose. All I could think was, “That has to be the tallest rack I’ve ever seen . . . and he’s heading my way!”
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