If you prefer pine-needled trails to pavement it’s a sure bet you can recall a few unexpected and unusual outdoors experiences. That being the case, you’re also aware that, once they are told, the uncommon occurences and discoveries of veteran hunters, fishermen and trappers quickly become common knowledge via village public-information offices; namely, coffee shops, hardware stores, filling stations, barber shops and such.

Accordingly, in the Greenville area there’s a story making the rounds about a buck deer whose unusual behavior has left frowns, smiles and colorful explanations in its tracks. Understand, however, this is no timely tale that originated in a back-of-beyond deer camp. The story comes, instead, from an area of Greenville known as the “Five Mile Square” and, specifically, from Jake Morrel’s backyard.

Because Jake is among the growing number of Maine sportsmen who buy bow-hunting licenses, it isn’t surprising that he has a dummy-deer target behind his house. Bow hunters, you may know, practice diligently. Now, to set the stage for this story, be informed that Jake’s full-body, styrofoam dummy is a dead ringer for a doe – a very attractive doe, in one buck’s eyes at least.

Recently, Jake noticed deer tracks and pawings around the dummy. Reading the signs with an experienced eye, he figured several bucks had been duped into thinking the “doe” was the real thing. It is, after all, that time of year. “The other morning, though, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing,” said the Greenville sportsman. “The snow was covered with blood and so was the dummy, from front to rear.

“At first I thought a wounded buck had been attracted to the dummy, but there wasn’t any blood in the tracks coming out of the woods. It was all around the dummy. It’s detachable head had been knocked off too. I took some pictures and talked with Bill Noble, a wildlife biologist at the Greenville Fisheries and Wildlife office. He said it sounded to him like a sexually aroused buck had injured itself on the dummy. Later on, Brent Randell, a guy I work with, came over and took a look, so did Cindy Hanscom, Greenville’s town manager.”

Considering that at the time of this unusual occurrence bucks were at the peak of the rut, there’s no doubt that Bill Noble’s assessment of the situation was sound. The culprit could have been a young buck afflicted with what wildlife biologists term “endocrinological overload” and therefore was unable to resist the statuesque charm of the styrofoam doe. On the other hand, though, it might have been an old buck feeling full of himself for having found a doe that didn’t run off on him. Either way, there’s a chance that somewhere within the woodsy confines of the Five Mile Square, there’s a buck that has lost the spirit of the season, so to speak.

Aside from that, Jake Morrel says the deer population thereabouts “is much improved.” His and other reports of whitetail numbers increasing steadily throughout that country bode well for the Greenville area, which is struggling to regain its historical reputation as a sportsman’s paradise.

Since we’re trailing bucks this morning, let me tell you about two brutes that will stop you in your tracks: On Nov. 8, Carl Henderson of Glenburn, a forester for Huber Resources Corp., was hunting along a ridge in Brighton TWP. After moving a deer, Carl circled to get downwind of it. In doing so, he jumped a buck. As the report of his scope-sighted, .243 caliber rifle echoed through the hardwooded hills, the buck bounded over a knoll and out of sight.

Sure that he hadn’t missed, Carl waited. After hearing movement ahead, he continued forward, found blood and followed it until he came upon the buck lying dead. “It wasn’t until then,” said the avid outdoorsman, “that I realized how big he was. He was a big-beamed 10-pointer and we dragged him out with an ATV, and even at that it wasn’t easy.

“The more I looked at him the bigger he got. When we finally hoisted him onto a scales he weighed 255 pounds, field dressed. I took some teeth out to have him aged. I’ll bet he’s 5-7 years old if he’s a day.” Understandably, Carl’s wife, Darlene, a BDN employee, is making wallspace for the arrival of a massive-antlered mount.

Now, take a look at these tracks driven all the way to the dew claws: wildlife biologist Gerry Lavigne, the “head guide” of the Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife’s deer-management program, reports that a Waterboro hunter recently tagged a buck that weighed 299 pounds minus its vital parts. Offhand, I’d say York County’s urban sprawl finally robbed that old-timer of his escape routes.

There, Sport, you have two outstanding examples of why deer hunters from across this country take trails leading to Maine – trophy bucks. For sure, many other states have more deer, but the bucks don’t wear size “X-Large” suits and they don’t have racks that look like rocking chairs. Example: recently, I enjoyed three days of quail hunting on a Tennessee plantation where, simply put, deer paraded around like they owned the place.

Truth is, though, those deer weren’t much bigger than the bird dogs, English pointers for the most part, that did our finding and fetching. When I mentioned Carl Henderson’s behemoth buck to the dog handler, the whistle dropped from his mouth. “Damn!” he exclaimed. “That deer’s daddy must’ve been a moose – antlers like that’d make a hat rack for the movie house.”

A grand tradition, deer hunting, in this great state of Maine.

Tom Hennessey’s column can be accessed on the BDN internet page at: www.bangornews.com.