A year ago, I eagerly awaited the opening day of deer season, ready to put my advance scouting to work for me.

OK. Calling (more or less) aimless walks in the woods, looking for deer droppings “scouting” may be a bit of a stretch.

But I found droppings. I found scrapes. I found rubs. One day, I even found a couple of deer. And I found the place I wanted to hunt.

Of course, on opening day, it seemed that every hunter in eastern Maine descended on “my” woods, tromped all over “my” droppings, and I never got the chance to hunt in the place I had assumed I’d spend most of the day.

The reason: Hunting Buddy and I were a bit late getting into the woods, and by the time we arrived (just before legal shooting time) every potential turnout looked like a parking lot, and every time we rounded a corner, another flash of blaze-orange would melt into the trees.

Not next year, I vowed. Not next year.

Well, now it’s “next year.” And I’m (more or less) happy to report that opening day was a huge success.

Did I get my deer? Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I didn’t.

But this time, I beat the rush. I arrived in the woods an hour before legal shooting … and I finally got to hunt the area I had (more or less) scouted.

Here’s the day in a nutshell:

3:30 a.m.: Alarm goes off, reminding me that for a year, I had been saying I’d get up really, really early. Droopy-eyed, I realize that “really, really early” wasn’t supposed to feel this early.

4 a.m.: Arrive at Dedham School with the first wave at the annual hunters breakfast. Realize that the “first” wave consists of me, two other hunters, and about a dozen way-too-perky seventh-graders who are eager to bus tables, fetch orange juice, and chat with drowsy hunters.

5:45: Drive into the woods. Step out of the truck. Realize that it’s cold. Have I mentioned that yet?

I gather my gear, trudge into the woods, and slither up a tree into the tree stand Hunting Buddy assembled earlier in the week.

What seemed simple during daylight hours (overcoming my fear of heights) is tougher in the dark. Luckily, since it’s so dark, I eventually convince myself that I’m not 20 feet up a tree at all. I’m on a couch. In my living room. And there, it’s not even 22 degrees out … like it is up here.

Every now and then I hear another truck driving down the road, pulling into a turnout, and the slam of doors. The woods are alive with hunters … but I haven’t heard a deer.

6:41 a.m.: Legal shooting hours arrive. I load my rifle, lean back, and sit.

And sit … and sit … and sit.

11 a.m.: Climb gingerly out of the tree … look back at the stand … realize that I was very high in the air, no matter what I had told myself.

1 p.m.: Meet up with Brother of Hunting Buddy and return to the woods, after a quick lunch. Head back to the tree stand. Climb. Settle in.

Sit … sit … sit. (And, here’s the important part: Don’t look down).

5:30: Have seen squirrels, chipmunks, a woodpecker and several other birds. No deer. But now … as it gets dark … I hear one coming. Slowly … surely … I hear one coming.

5:40: With daylight waning, I hear the deer directly behind me. I peer awkwardly over my shoulder and see a doe and two fawns slink carefully through the trees.

I smile.

They don’t know I’m there. I watch them continue their trek … wait until I can’t hear them any longer … and unload my rifle for the trip to the truck. I carefully climb out of the tree, pack up, and begin my hike.

My “aimless” wandering in the woods seems to have paid off already.

And I can’t wait to get back out there.

Today – finally – the flood of political commercials ends, and we get to vote for national and local candidates, and for (or against) a couple of hotly contested local referendum questions.

One final thought on the referendum that would end the way we hunt bears in this state seems appropriate.

Baiting of bears – the method used to harvest 91 percent of the bruins that are killed each year – does not make a kill automatic. It does not lead to “point-blank” shots, as referendum supporters state. And in many cases, it does allow hunters to selectively choose which bear to shoot … and not to shoot.

Success rates of bear hunters hovers in the mid-20 percent range … roughly the same as the success rate of the state’s deer hunters.

And even referendum supporters have begun some of the arguments by comparing the way we hunt bears to the way we hunt deer.

It seems to me that if bear hunting were so easy, the success rate would be much higher.

After all, most bear hunters hunt with a guide who does all of the baiting and scouting for them.

“All” the bear hunter has to do is show up … sit still … and hunt. Right?

Apparently not. Remember, many bear hunters show up in Maine from out of state with hunting as their priority, while their deer-hunting brethren often view deer camp as a worthwhile place to visit, whether they end up heading afield on a given day or not.

When bear hunters pay their $1,200 or $1,500 for a hunt … they hunt. Every day. Until dark. And they’re still successful less than 30 percent of the time.

We all know of many licensed deer hunters who only get the chance to hunt a day or two a year … or who buy the license because they figure they ought to have one before heading to camp … even if they plan on cooking most of the time.

Put in perspective, with hundreds or thousands of “part-time” deer hunters out there (and, I’d assert, relatively few part-time bear hunters) it may turn out that deer hunters are more successful, on a critter-killed-per-hour basis, than bear hunters are.

And deer hunters are often viewed as the ultimate “fair chase” hunters, partly, I think, because they theoretically spend so many hours afield without bagging a deer.

Food for thought as you head to the polls.

John Holyoke can be reached at jholyoke@bangordailynews.net or by calling 990-8214 or 1-800-310-8600.