Before me, I have a three- to four-inch file of deer hunting notes and quotes, gathered over a long period of time. I have words from wise, old heads the likes of Dan Hartford, Bert O’Leary, Bud Hamlin, Bill McNally, Ora Daggett, Andy Mann, Lloyd Clark, Ron Masure, Mose Jackson, Willard Jalbert, Al Nugent, Lester and Leslie Gardner – and, possibly, 50 others I’ve shadowed.

Likely as not, you have your own list of nonpareils, matchless deer huntsmen in their own right.

Truthfully, though, no one can list deer hunting tips with the assurance that these will produce every time. There are, however, a few basic rules which will put the odds more in favor of the shooter.

Naturally, there will always be the suicide-prone buck which mother shoots from the kitchen window while Harold was tramping miles off back in the hills. This past Saturday morning at Ken’s, a tried and tested breakfast stop for those who eat with the staying power of game wardens, a Maryland man told me of a woman shooting an eight-point buck off the back porch while her hands were coated from flour. She was baking bread at the precise moment this wandering buck, probably searching female companionship, got within a measured 41 feet from the porch doorsteps.

I remarked that this must be a good woman, one that provided fresh-baked bread to go with a first meal of heart and liver. I’ve known men who’d leave their wives for a meal of deer liver and onions.

Anyway, since the Maine deer hunt ends Nov. 30, leaving 12 shooting days to fill a tag, I offer snippets of intelligence gathered from some gone and still-living deer-stalkers.

Deer are creatures of habit and if they are not disturbed, they will follow the same trail at the same time of day and feed in the same area day in and day out. After the shooting starts, does and immature males often follow the same pattern, but the wary old bucks with the hat-rack heads stick to the heavy cover.

When the bucks are traveling with the does, it is not unusual for the does to walk across a wide-open field to get to an apple orchard or some feeding ground. Meanwhile, the buck will detour as much as half a mile, sticking to the dense marginal growth where he is never exposed. This has been something more than a small problem for bucks in the northern third of the state. The clear-cutting practices, and I am thinking of Scott Paper Co. along routes 6 and 15 in the Moosehead country, has left nary a tree large enough for a buck to hide behind.

These notes to a man assert the wise hunter takes up his stand in the heavy brush where it is difficult to shoot – but where the big bucks go. Another good policy is to watch what the average hunter does and then do exactly the opposite. He then goes into the woods beyond the one-mile heavily hunted strip and waits for the other hunters to push the game back to him.

An early start, a well-traveled game trail far back in the woods is one of the surest bets for filling a license.

The modern hunter moves through the woods at what he thinks is a slow quiet pace. Yet, to the super-sensitive animal, he is making a noise comparable to an Army tank ascending the side of Mt. Waldo. When moving, say each of these wise, old heads, always emphasized and re-emphasized, move slowly, slowly, slowly. Ten to 15 steps, then stop, look around carefully. Another 10 steps as quietly and as slowly as possible – and then another pause.

This slow pace does not cover ground, but it is the only reasonably sure way of getting a decent shot at an animal these last 12 days of the Maine season.

Those who hunt need to be extra careful in the next 12 days. With a tiny, vocal, action-oriented, anti-hunting group taking up 15-second svocal, action-oriented, anti-hunting group taking up 15-second sound bites on television’s evening news reports, the ultimate penalty for irresponsibility is a squeeze of an outdoor tradition and a vital wildlife management tool.

These are the ones who do not wish to be educated why people hunt – the taste of moose, venison, the thrill when a grouse explodes in front of the dogs, the beauty of the woods, the silence, the loneliness and companionship.

But these same wise, old hands in this bail of notes understood. Really understood. Pity some have gone to The Great Hunting Ground.