Before the start of 2025, I had resolved to focus on hunting the big woods of Pennsylvania, to try to go deeper into that vigorous and exciting domain of pursuit. Though I’d hunted these woods with a shotgun for turkey, and I would no doubt try to hunt them with a crossbow if the opportunity of whim arose, they are undoubtedly a place where a rifle best suits the lay of the land and scarcity of game.
For that seems to the predominant feature of the big woods- Although it has every kind of flora and fauna found in the region… in ecosystems as close to their primordial state as can be found… game in the big woods is spread out over the immense terrain, thriving in pockets and corridors where conditions are right for different species at different times of year and day. Finding them in a specific place at a specific time is harder than nature documentaries might have you believe.
I had four good outings this season, though I took no game and had one critical piece of equipment fail at the moment of truth. I feel like I learned a bit about what it takes physically and in terms of scouting and preparation, but I’ve got a lot of work to do.
My First Bear Hunt
Based on harvest data, I had keyed in on the Poconos area, further East than I had been hunting the big woods so far. Torn between clear cuts and swamps, I rolled the dice on the swampland. Something seemed romantic about venturing into the deep dark woods not far out of town. I found a spot where my plan was to park and immediately strike out off trail to come in “behind” the swamps and hopefully post up in a funnel between two of them by shooting light. I would only have to cover just about a mile, but that turned out to not be remotely achievable. I think I got to that spot between 10 and 11 am. Walking quietly through the big woods in the dark is slow going.
After forty minutes of walking through alternating dense and open woods, I came to the edge of a large thicket at the bottom of a hill where the open woods continued upwards. It was about twenty minutes until shooting lights when I noticed the shine of two eyes, walking back and forth fifty or so yards away. When the animal seemed to unmistakably stand up on its hind legs, believing it must be a bear I chambered a round. When the metallic clank of the lever action didn’t scare it off, I was admittedly startled. The animal dropped down after just a few seconds, but didn’t run. It just stood there, moving its head from side to side as if to pinpoint my location. Eventually, it crouched down and continued staring in my direction. For the next twenty minutes, my heart raced. I was locking eyes with some unknown animal, fifty yards away in the darkness. I alternated between glancing at the time on my phone, and straining to make it out in the darkness. Right at shooting light, it started to move parallel to me and towards the thicket, taking slow, lumbering steps and swinging its head from side to side. I still couldn’t make it out, and so of course, couldn’t shoot. Before entering the thicket it paused and looked right at me one last time- the shine of two eyes on a formless figure in the still dark woods- and then it vanished. I walked to where it had been crouched to look for signs of what it was, but found none. In hindsight, the white eye shine seems to mean it must have been a deer, but in the moment, my imagination had conjured a monster bruin.
I continued on through the morning, making my way through the varying forest habitats, still hunting and exploring as I approached the swamps. On the back side of the swamps, before reaching the funnel I had foolishly planned to sit, I found a line of buck rubs along a game trail I had been following for some time. This was the first time I have found consecutive rubs in an area that were almost certainly made or visited by the same bucks.
Though I saw no game or anything of interest for the rest of the day as I hiked for miles, I was excited to be trekking in the open country again. It is an invigorating, hearty experience that makes me feel alive and youthful- or at least, ageless in my enthusiasm for the wonders of this world.
Rifle opener
A year worth of excitement came down to this. The bear opener was fun- I was out there doing it- but I didn’t seriously expect to see, let alone shoot a bear, and so even though I was limited to a doe, this was the big show for me. This was a chance to get out there and do what I’d really been dreaming about all year.
When I rolled into my planned spot to see five trucks parked at the trailhead, I turned right around. Pulling up onX, I keyed on the closest spot I had identified and pulled into the parking lot there first. I quickly developed a new plan for the spot and set out. I was going to try to catch them coming off of a food source and heading back to their bedding area. On the way in I heard deer moving through the woods towards the cover I suspected them to sleep in, but it was before shooting light. As I approached the field, I found it empty. I moved away from the fields up onto the slope of a large hill, paralleling my route in, but farther on the hillside and above where I thought they might be bedded.
Still hunting slowly towards the bedding, I heard crunching and immediately saw the tail of a buck 70-80 yards away in the dense cutover. In his confusion, he hooked around as if tracing a J, and pausing for a moment behind a tree, crossed an open lane at 60 yards. He was a beautiful buck, and I believe with the 7mm08- as dialed and reliable as it is- he was dead to rights at that distance… but I had no buck tag, and so his majesty went on to live another day.
Eastern Shore
I had a good morning hunting one of the larger public land tracts on the Eastern shore of Maryland. I didn’t have too much of a plan, other than to walk in deep in hopes of getting away from people- this was a place that I was sure got some pressure (and I turned out to be right, though it didn’t affect my hunt.) It was snowing gently as I made a long walk in, again hearing deer moving just before shooting light, off of the fields where they were likely feeding earlier. Again I saw no deer as I continued around. The land was still and quiet as I crept well into the morning. After I finished my plan was to head to a Christmas party, and excited to get there and hear about everyone’s hunting this year, I made my way back to the car and on down the shore.
This day turned out to be one of the highlights of my hunting season. My Uncle Joe, having recently retired to the Eastern Shore near Crisfield, MD, had a large barn built on his farm, and decided to host a hunting party on the second Saturday of rifle season. Some people hunted on the farm in the morning, but by lunch time, family and neighbors were filtering in. Though it was cold, we had plenty of heaters and hot food- roasts- beef and venison- crab soup, Pop’s oyster “stew,” raw oysters, and libations. We threw hatchets, kept a fire going, told hunting stories, and had a good time. Eventually they played poker. I hope it becomes, and it seems like they are interested in making it, a regular thing.
One Last Shot… or Not
The season was winding down, with only a few days left, and I had basically spent my family’s good will towards hunting for the year, but when I saw of a good snow in the forecast, I couldn’t help but try to get out there to do some proper tracking in fresh powder. That was, after all, what I had been fantasizing about all year.
I intended to follow my opening day plan, suspected and found little competition, it being a weekday late in the season. The snow was light earlier on, and I made good time pulling the sled for two and a half miles or so before ditching it to begin still hunting until I picked up tracks. Because I wasn’t looking for buck tracks, I didn’t feel the need to cover ground quickly, knowing that I would find tracks doe leaving the feeding areas.
Right after shooting light, as I walked through a clear cut, two does spooked ahead of me. As the larger ran off at around 80 yards, I lined up a shot and squeezed the trigger. The click of the gun was deflating. I tried to cycle the action and the next round jammed. I wouldn’t learn until the end of the day that it wouldn’t have mattered, but at the time I sorted out the jam, chambered a different round, and continued hunting.
I hunted around the food plots, flushing a covey of three grouse, one after the other, such that I would have had a good shot at the second with a shotgun after the first caught my attention. I followed doe tracks in the snow from the top of the mountain in broad zig zags, eventually following the tracks of the two I spooked earlier in the clearcut, and then others, as I made my way down towards the creek in the valley below.
This was another hearty day that proved my passion for the pursuit. Though on a sour note, I tried to fire the gun several more times before leaving- all misfires. Despite the 30-30 failing, I was energized by my time out there exploring and in close pursuit of game… I relish the experience. This is a lifelong pursuit. I hope for highs and lows, hills and valleys- whatever adventure I can find exploring the wild country I love.
I didn’t mind the hassle of sending the gun back for warranty service; I’ve already sent it in and gotten it back with a new bolt, mag tube, and stock for which I was particularly grateful to be absolved of an unsightly scratch that resulted from some real doofus gun-smithing on my part. Like the upgrades, fixes, and scratches, the experiences give the weapon the patina of soul visible to any who see the wear as the memories of use. Now I’ve had it re-baptized by Henry, and I’m excited to practice with it for next season.