The human animal is a stalker so capable that it puts other carnivores to shame.
Predatory animals need not be as good as us because they do not need to get as close to their prey before killing it instead rushing to their intended kill with jet-like speed. Our ancestors, before the days of bow and arrow or spears, could not run down prey like wolves. They could, however, stalk unsuspecting animals and kill them with their hands. An art, born of necessity is, however, no longer needed in the day of the scoped deer rifle and elevated tree stand. Nowadays, man is at best, a clumsy woods walker.
Although by and large unused in this day of tree stands, man is still endowed with the physical characteristics needed for stalking game which were so vital to the survival of primitive man.
Can you stand on one leg? Have you ever seen a cat do that? How about a deer? Funny isn’t it? What do you think being able to stand on one leg is good for? If you ever want to get within shooting distance of a game animal, you will discover the advantages of standing on one leg. When stalking a feeding deer, for example, you will have to freeze instantly in whatever position you happen to be in when that deer glares in your direction. If you tip, the jig is up. So, man has a superb sense of balance, which is one reason we can, with a touch of training, walk on tightropes.
One scientist recently concluded that human feet, more specifically the pads, are endowed with thousands of nerve endings which are largely unnecessary. Some statement. Had he cause to stalk game as if his life depended on it-like primitive man-he would have known better than to write such rubbish. Our feet are so sensitive precisely because life itself once depended on such sensitivity to get close enough to game in order to kill and eat it. One tiny stick breaking, one dry leaf crackling, and one wobbly pebble gone unexplored by sensitive toes and pads, and man went hungry. So, combine this superb sensitivity of our feet with our capability of balancing, our great self-discipline, our excellent eyesight, and our ability to learn and you have an animal that can sneak like, well, like a human.
As an animal behaviorist, I have had the opportunity to virtually perfect my stalking tactics. I have stalked so close to a blacktail deer that I was tempted to grab its tail. On another occasion, with a low winter sun at my back, I shot a whitetail buck at 20 paces as it rose from its bed in dense aspens. With the bright sun pouring into the thicket, I could see nicely, but that buck was forced to look directly into the sunlight and could not spot my slow approach.
In all the stalks on game I have made, self-discipline has been an overriding factor in my success. When stalking a deer or elk, for example, you may experience a horsefly about to make a meal of you. Swatting it may alleviate the problem but, to take game, you will just have to grin and bear it and get on with the stalk as if nothing in the world could distract you. And nothing in the world must.
Most hunters must learn that one cannot always stalk. In dry leaves, stalking is almost impossible. The best conditions are soft, moist ground.
For example, take the bull moose I observed one July. He was a big fellow with a left front leg limp and scraggly antlers. I saw him now and again and quickly discovered that he was easily spooked. He looked as if he had once been shot at and was not fond of it. I found him one forenoon, feeding in a clearcut. As I slinked along, I suddenly saw his back a couple of hundred yards below, sticking out over some windfalls. He was busy feeding, paying little attention to all that was about him. I could hear him feed as the flowering plants came apart under the pull of his long, black nose. I could not see on what species of plant he fed and wanted to know.
Off went my boots, my creaky packboard, my notes, and all else that could clatter, scrape, creak, or scratch. Since nobody was there to watch, off went my pants as well-worn as they were and fairly soft, they still were far too noisy for an approach on any game, let alone an experienced old bull.
I had to sneak up on the moose through some 200 yards of deadfalls, broken branches, fireweed, willowbrushes, and open rocky patches, thick with pebbles that were poised to click and clack. Let one stone clack or one branch snap and that big bull would vanish.
My route to the bull might sound a bit discouraging, if not impossible. But don’t believe it. It was made for stalking. I could see every branch and avoid each pebble. The ground was a blanket of finely rotted wood-soft and pliable. The greenery was moist and wouldn’t snap, crackle, or pop. All that was required was to watch the quarry, keep some obstruction between it and me, and let the toes and foot pads find the right places to step.
Eyes on the quarry, toes exploring, fingers picking up and holding aside stalks and branches, and ready to freeze in an instant, I began the stalk. Almost instantly, the bull reared up, his nose testing the wind. Nothing detected, his head dropped, but then came up again. Did he hear me? I stood poorly balanced, then spotted a flash-a female mule deer. The bull must have also identified it. He dropped his head, stepped forward, and continued feeding, unconcerned about the deer.
Then came 20 yards of very careful stalking. Only a glance now and again while my exploring feet did the rest. With my hands, I swam through the fireweed, holding stalks still the moment I noticed or anticipated that the bull would raise his head. Never once did I lose sight of him. In a fairly short time, I reached some logs about 15 feet from the animal. He was eating Senicios and Valerina, selecting the flowering parts from the plants. Initial stalk completed, I had an even more difficult task: Get back without disturbing the animal. After all, I did not want him to leave. I needed him as a study animal. Spooking clients is no way to run a business. So I sneaked back, slower than on the approach.
To become an accomplished stalker, it is vital to practice during the off-season, as I did with the bull moose. All the reading about stalking will do little good if you are unable to put what you have learned into practice. Spend time in the woods and try to walk silently into the thickest places possible. This will help you learn about animal behavior and, above all else, will allow you to study the terrain. In this way, you can better understand the best and the worst stalking conditions.
I was able to sneak up on and back from the bull because the terrain was suitable. In hard snow, frost, and dry leaves, stalking is largely ineffective. The problem is that even when stalking conditions are great, like in a warm drizzle, we often fail to appreciate it as such and cover ourselves with rubber and rubbish in order to stay dry. You might as well put a flashing police light on your head and siren in your rucksack.
Modern outdoor clothing that is manufactured to keep you dry is usually a miserable encumbrance to the stalker. If the weather is warm and the vegetation is pliable, do as the ancients did, wear as little as possible. Walking silently is far easier with a minimum of clothes and equipment. In cold weather, I dress totally in wool, from pants to a wool hat. Keep in mind, too, that during the rain is one of the best times to be out in the woods. If you can get into some good old-fashioned wool and don’t mind a good soaking, go with it and hunt in the rain. Wool will keep you warm and allow you to stalk quietly. I never wear camouflage clothing. Most camo is made of denim or canvas material and is very loud in the woods.
A fresh blanket of snow also provides good stalking conditions. If the snow is still falling, so much the better. All the tracks you will see will be fresh, and four or five inches of the white stuff should muffle any missteps you make. Game is also easier to see under these conditions. However, once the snow has had a chance to melt and refreeze, stalking is nearly impossible. Crunchy snow is worse than dry leaves.
Stalkers should also pay special attention to hunting boots. Just take a look at the soles of most hunting boots-one cleat beside the other with huge corrugations for extra traction. They may be fine for hiking or climbing but not for stalking game.
Such soles maximize the amount of dead surface area attached to your feet, that is, surface area that has little or no sensitivity and catches on twigs, crunchy leaves, and other noisy woods litter. For stalking, you need soles that allow the foot to feel the ground beneath it. I prefer leather/rubber pac boots with as little corrugation on the thin leather soles as possible. They are the next best thing to moccasins, which are excellent for stalking but wear out too quickly. Autumn in Canada is cold, and I find pac boots provide adequate warmth and dryness.
Most hunters are poor stalkers because they move through the woods too quickly. I’ve come up with a tactic that has allowed me to sneak up on game consistently.
Most of my kills are made under 20 paces. To do this, I get into the thickest stuff possible by using a zigzag and curving route. The key is to walk slowly. I take three carefully measured steps and then pause for approximately seven seconds while peering into the thickets with my binoculars. Before moving again, I slip the binoculars into my shirt to keep them from scraping against any noisemakers, such as the buttons on my coat. If I make any accidental noise, I’ll freeze in my tracks for five or six minutes before resuming the stalk. Before moving again, I will pick the path very carefully in order to avoid blowdowns, noisy brush, and so on. By zigzagging and taking carefully measured pauses, I can confound deer. I have used this tactic even under crusty snow conditions, but it obviously works best when the woods are quiet.
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I don’t use scents. I simply can’t be bothered with them. If I wear the quietest clothes I can find, I’ll get a deer, eventually.
Stalking. If I were advising someone on how to be consistently successful on big game, I wouldn’t recommend it. But, for the hunter who wants the ultimate challenge, it is the only way to go. Mankind comes from a long line of stalkers. Whenever I go hunting, I learn more about myself. Each time out teaches me something new about wildlife.
Dr. Valerius Geist was one of the world’s foremost animal behaviorists and was a professor of environmental science at the University of Calgary in Alberta, Canada. This story was originally published in the December 1985 issue of Outdoor Life.
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