A recent arrival to Alaska, labeled a "cheechako" or greenhorn by local "sourdoughs," initially dismissed the concept of a deer call as mere jest, according to a report from www.outdoorlife.com. Preparing for a Sitka black-tail hunt in southeastern Alaska, the newcomer was pressed by his hunting partner, Ed, about possessing such a device. Despite years of successful deer hunting experience without one, and familiarity with crow, duck, and turkey calls, as well as rattling antlers for Texas bucks, the idea of a specific deer call was foreign.
Ed produced an unusual, handmade call constructed from two thin, three-inch pieces of wood, bound at the ends with surgical tape. The slightly concave facing sides held a lengthwise silk ribbon reed, and a leather loop allowed for neck suspension. When played "harmonica-fashion," the call emitted a sound akin to a lost lamb's bleat, a tone Ed claimed took two days to perfect. Despite the newcomer's protests about its necessity, he agreed to construct a similar call during their seventeen-mile boat trip to a salmon cannery.
At the cannery, they were met by caretaker John, another "old friend" of Ed's, who playfully highlighted the cheechako's unfamiliarity with deer calls. John confirmed the local scarcity of bucks near the beach due to insufficient high-elevation snow. Later, after supper, Ed and John fine-tuned the newly made call and instructed the newcomer on its use: three non-loud, wavering blows ending on a rising wail, followed by a fifteen-minute waiting period before repeating. While admitting they had never heard a deer make this specific noise, both Ed and John vouched for its efficacy, attracting both does and bucks. Ed suggested, based on an old Indian's account, that it mimics a fawn in "mortal terror," which John concurred would explain the response from either sex.
The following morning, plans were set to hunt inland due to the lack of snow. The terrain proved challenging, described as equally or more difficult than logged-off areas in Oregon and Washington, with alder, devil's-club, and brush thickets from sea level upwards. After navigating steep inclines and wet, moss-covered logs, they found a game trail near the crest of the first ridge. Here, they observed a mature doe, though no buck was nearby.
Nearing the second ridge, a hunting strategy was devised: John would angle right, Ed continue ahead, and the newcomer would drift left towards the west end of a half-mile long open muskeg. The newcomer was instructed to take cover at the muskeg's edge and use the deer call. Upon reaching the spot and finding a dry rock for cover amidst fresh deer sign, the newcomer deliberated using the call. Before making a sound, movement in the opposite brush caught his eye. A minute later, a doe emerged, followed by a four-point buck. The buck, at approximately 75 yards, was partially obscured by brush. As the newcomer cautiously stood to take a shot with his Enfield, his slick-soled shoepac slipped, resulting in a single "wild shot" as the buck disappeared. This incident, originally reported on www.outdoorlife.com, underscored the unpredictable nature of the hunt even when successful tactics were at hand.
