I accidentally found a hot fishing spot on the backside of Robert Moses Field 5. Nonetheless I ran across competition for the spot. With several fish in my cooler I had to slowly pass on an October day a six-point buck in rut standing bold and brave next to his deer.
As I left the area of a dock used for government boats on the north side of the Fire Island lighthouse, I was toting about five kingfish and a big blackfish, all nabbed on sandworms in the Great South Bay. I felt proud that I had ventured out, experimented, and found a desolate fishing spot. In addition to the kingfish and blackfish, I was also reeling in schoolie striped bass. Fishing there was the best. I felt dumb luck had finally arrived.
The elation from my catch shortly ended, however, when I saw a huge six-point buck with his love interest just off the wooden path leading to the parking lot. With the alpha deer about 30 yards away, I stopped dead in my tracks. Armed only with a fishing rod and not a rifle, I knew I could easily be chopped meat if the buck decided to charge at me during his rut season.
Those horns on top of his head looked like cleavers. Just one thrust of anger could have left me bleeding profusely on the side of the shrubbery where few visit. What the heck should I do I thought? I could easily retreat and declare surrender by heading back and taking the long route to the lighthouse then head to the parking lot. Or I could have just walk pass the lovely dove couple simply wishing I were armed.
All this while I walked the bay beach thinking about the good dinner I was going to have with the fish in my cooler. Everything was going so fine until I saw Bubba the horny, angry buck with his girlfriend Jezebel the darling doe. Messing with buck and doe during rut season could get ugly for anyone dumb enough to interfere with the love interests of wild animals. Yet I was too tired to retrace my steps and walk the long way around.
I said to myself just be careful, walk slowly, and if the buck charged just throw a three-ounce lead sinker at it. I had never heard of a buck charging at anyone on Fire Island so I felt confident that I was safe enough. I have heard of a buck in rut charging in upstate New York or in other parts of the country but here on Fire Island I had never heard it happening. Nonetheless, I really didn’t want to gamble on it. If I were wrong that buck might have decapitated me and put my head on its wall to show off and brag to his girlfriend or anyone else visiting to show off his trophy catch - me.
I knew, however, I had a sharp knife in my cooler that could have provided some protection. Then I thought to myself why the heck I wanted to behave like Tarzan, most likely that buck would have shredded me with his head rack before I could cut a morsel of its ear.
I opted of course to stroll pass the creatures instead of circling around. I had spent the whole day fishing, and catching fish, so I was too tired to backpedal away from nature. Slowly but surely I made my way to the couple. I paid close attention to any sound of snorting or rage a sure sign the beast was going to charge me. Yet as I walked pass the two, about 10 feet away, I took a quick glance as I hurried my steps.
The two weren’t too concerned or paid too much attention to me. They were in love, in rut, and couldn’t care less that I had invaded their love nest. As I finally made my way pass them and kept on walking to a safe distance, about a hundred yards away, I turned around to look at them. They still stood in the exact same spot. They hadn’t moved or budged a bit. They were so concerned with their feeling for the future they paid no mind to a guy with fishing gear who had crossed their path.
The buck never charged. Maybe because it was in love, too preoccupied with the call of nature to bother harassing a wondering angler who crossed its path, carrying a cooler full of fish.
