Deer season, I have figured out in my relatively short hunting career, is a lot like baseball season (if, that is, you’re a Red Sox fan). The season itself only lasts for a predetermined period of time. During that season, you do your best (or, in the case of Sox fans, root as hard as you can).

And for the rest of the year, you’re generally left sitting in front of a hot stove, overanalyzing everything that went wrong and telling anyone who will listen, “Wait until next year.”

On Saturday, next year finally arrives for the members of the blaze-orange fraternity. And this year (or is it still next year?) things will be different.

I guarantee it … I think.

Past failures aside, I comfort myself with the knowledge that each year, the vast majority of deer hunters finish their season the same way I do: Tired and deerless.

But this year, things are bound to change. This year, I know where the deer are hiding. I’ve done my homework. I’m ready. And on Saturday, I’ll prove it … I think.

I have tromped through the deer woods, carefully taking note of complex scientific data that many non-hunters might not notice.

This is how it works: Tromp. Tromp. Tromp … stop. Look. Really look. Observe.

Yup. That right there’s what we serious hunters call `a pile of deer poop.’ And where there’s piles like that … well, you know the rest.

I know, I know. For the past few years I’ve been telling you that my scouting has gone exceptionally well. I’ve told you that I knew where the deer were going, and how they got there.

This is really difficult to admit, but … here goes. It seems I was wrong.

It turns out that last year (and the year before that, and the year before that) all I really knew was where the deer were. At some point … in the not all-too-distant past.

This year, that has changed.

My good fortune (have I mentioned that I am afflicted by an unfortunate trait some might call “blind optimism?”) actually began on the last day of last season.

My buddies and I hunted in the places the deer were … once … and had no luck. Then we hopped in the truck, drove down a road, and found out where they were … at that very moment.

Of course, we never got a shot at the big buck we saw that day. If we had, you’d have been the first to know. Trust me.

But we tromped through that piece of woods and learned that while I’d spent November sitting and sitting and sitting in a tree a half mile away, the deer had moved, and were frolicking around in a place we’d never even considered.

That’s right. Frolicking. In broad daylight, no less (at least, that’s the way we figured it … but we’re Red Sox fans).

Which brings us to next year … umm … this year.

Hunting Buddy and I went scouting last week, planning to check out the Woods of the Big Buck (instead of the Woods of the Sore Butt) for a possible stand site.

Fifty yards from the truck, we stopped, peered down an old trail, and saw Big Buck’s little brother, who was a pretty nifty six-pointer.

After the deer finally bounded off, we continued our scouting trip and found exactly what we’d hoped for. Deer sign … plenty of it … and all kinds of tracks and deer trails and other scientific evidence of deer activity.

I’d tell you more, but I know how much people hate to sit through a science lecture (especially from an amateur deer-poop-cataloguer).

On Saturday, I know where I’m going. I know things will change.

Because this time, I know where the deer are.

Of course, I seem to remember saying something similar last year.

But this isn’t last year. This is this year … or next year … or something like that.

And if you’re a deer-hunting Red Sox fan, I think you’ll understand exactly what I’m saying.

Start the season off right

Come Saturday, you may or may not get your deer. You may or may not even see one. But there’s no reason you can’t enjoy one of the best parts of opening day. Breakfasts abound … and all you’ve got to do is choose one in your neck of the woods.

On Tuesday I received word of one more hunters breakfast on tap for Saturday morning. The Bangor Elks Lodge will host its seventh annual young hunters breakfast from 4 to 8 a.m. Admission is free, and door prizes will be awarded. Attendees are encouraged to bring a young hunter along.

Now, then (for the final time) here’s a recap of your options for an opening day feast:

You can eat at the Presque Isle Fish & Game Club, the Penobscot Fire Department, Dedham School, the Eddington Salmon Club, the Caribou VFW Hall, Grace Lynn Methodist Church in Hartland, the Powerline Prowlers Snowmobile Club in Corinth, Riverfront Park in Old Town and the Archon Lodge hall in Dixmont.

Most open at 4 a.m., while a couple don’t start serving until 4:30.

Either way, you’re guaranteed a hearty breakfast that will come in handy a few hours later, when you’re dragging that big buck back to the truck.

And if that buck doesn’t show up on Saturday, at least you’ll have something to show for that early wakeup call.

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