Written By - Curt Wells - 09/27/2007
Link to Original Article here

I hate it when a buck doesnâ€t pay attention.

My soft grunts turned into pig like snarffles as the big eight-pointer just kept striding away, into the stiff breeze. He crossed a small open meadow, then dropped into a creekbottom and up the other side. When he reached level ground again he finally heard my grunts and looked back in my direction. I froze, even though he was a good 150 yards away.

My stand was in a big cottonwood in southern Iowa but it was fairly open ground around me so I dared not move. The buck studied the situation then started to turn away again and I hit him with a bleat can. He stopped again.

That did the trick as the buck began to skirt the creek to my right, circling into the wind. He hadn’t gone more than five steps when he spotted the two Renzo€™s decoys I had set up, a buck and a doe. That was all the confirmation he needed. The buck crossed a small fork in the creek and came closer, keeping the main creek channel between himself and the decoys. He’d stop to stare occasionally and I remained quiet, letting the decoys work their magic.