OK, let me explain. I did NOT trespass and spotlight a whitetail. The title is a word play indicating my hunting in the least populated, and ‘darkest’ location near Atlanta, GA. Hmmm. Let me explain a bit more. And this is gonna take some serious nerd-ing out about why some folks built the Deerlick Astronomy Village near where I hunted whitetail recently; so please hang in there. In fact, let me quote from the club’s website describing why they set up shop near the stand from which I hunted: “The Eastern United States are generally very poor for dark sky locations. The goal of the group was to find a dark sky site that is within 2 hrs of Atlanta and convenient to other regional metropolitan areas in the southeast.”1

I know, what in the world does this have to do with hunting and Hornady? Simply put, I was in Taliaferro County, GA, where when the sun goes down on a moonless night, it’s frickin’ dark! Which means, when you’re looking for a downed whitetail, in briar-infested, hardwood-pine stands, with only your I-phone as a light, because you forgot to put your headlamp into your backpack, you use words that would make a Marine blush. OK, maybe not a Marine, but you get the picture. Fortunately, because Taliaferro County is not only dark, but also the least-populated of Georgia’s 159 counties, like the black of space, no one can hear you scream…as you search for your whitetail. Before I go any further, native Georgians pronounce Taliaferro, “taa·luh·ver.” Before you get all judgy about Redneck Georgians and poor diction, remember how everyone, even the highly articulate among us, pronounce the Spanish phrase, “Los Angeles.”

A week earlier my buddy, Geoff (in case you wonder, pronounced “Jeff”) invited me for a hunt on his property in Taliaferro County. I’d hunted with Geoff one other time on this timber tract, and it had been successful, with a big doe taken late in the season. As whitetail hunters know, that’s a tough time for going after mature animals on hunting leases. But I knew how well managed the property was, so ‘pumped’ was the best description of how I felt. I would once again be after a trophy doe, letting bucks walk. That was fine by me, because I wanted the opportunity of providing venison for friends whose freezers were still empty.

Geoff told me that I’d be in the same elevated stand used on my first hunt on his property. I knew that shots would be a maximum of 200-yards, but I also knew that I wanted an accurate rifle, and plenty of power in case a big-bodied, Georgia doe appeared. I had the perfect rifle, an MG-Arms Ultralight chambered in 7mm Remington Magnum. And, I had the perfect ammunition, handloads topped with Hornady’s 162-grain, ELD-X bullet. With that rifle and Hornady bullet, I’d taken everything from a Leopard and Mountain Zebra in Namibia to a Roebuck in Sweden. The 162-grain Hornady bullet had always worked perfectly, as seen by the single slug necessary to drop the Mountain Zebra at 340-yards.

Surprisingly, a whitetail was not on the list of animals taken by this rifle + bullet. That made this hunt even more special. As we made our way on the hour-and-half drive to the southeast of Geoff’s house in Athens, GA, we reminisced about that first hunt. I asked how the deer population looked this year. In answer, Geoff grinned and said “Good bucks, and lots of does seen, and a few wall-hangers taken. I have a feeling you’re going to have luck this afternoon. I’m just glad you have a rifle and ammunition that will reach from the stand to the edge of the two food plots.” I always doubt my skills, but at the range two days before, the tight groups at two hundred yards were dead-on.

Geoff dropped me off at the box stand at 2:45, with sundown happening in less than two hours, and deep dark a few minutes after that. At 3:15, nine turkeys entered and foraged across the food plot to the right of the stand. They continued their feeding for the next hour-and-a-bit, finally moving back into the woods near where I thought deer might appear. In fact, the woodland edge where the turkeys disappeared towards their roost was where the doe taken on the first hunt came into the plot to feed. And at the stroke of 5, it happened again.

The whitetail tentatively made her way out of the forest fringe, with mincing steps sliding through the dense stand of briars and understory brush. Slowly raising my binocular-rangefinder to my eyes, I registered the distance I already knew from earlier readings taken when I entered the stand — 165-yards. As I studied the doe through my optics, I realized she looked young. I was in a quandary. I really wanted a deer for venison for friends, but as a conservation biologist, I wanted to harvest a mature doe, one that likely had plenty of offspring running around in the woods. I slid my face onto the stock of my rifle and rested the crosshairs on the doe. The easiest thing would be to take this gift horse by squeezing the trigger.

I lifted away from the stock, resting my trigger hand on top of the stock’s comb, and my chin on the back of my hand. It was then that I caught movement behind the young doe. I returned my face to the stock, looking through the riflescope at the second whitetail. There was a marked difference in body size between the two animals, with the second doe at least 50% larger. The larger doe put her head down to graze on the short, green winter wheat. The crosshairs rested just behind her shoulder for a second before the rifle boomed. The muzzle brake allowed me to see all four legs lift straight up, and the doe begin a crouching run that curved 50-yards before entering the dense hedge. Though I had time to chamber another cartridge, I could not get back onto the doe for a second shot. Tapping the screen of my iPhone, the digital numbers read 5:16, and it was already very gloomy.

I headed quickly down the ladder of the blind and jog-trotted to where the doe stood at the shot. Small sprinkles of blood dotted the area, the flecks appeared to be from the bullet passing through lungs. Slowly walking in the arc taken by the doe, I found only a few, very small spatters, each of which I marked with some toilet paper. The small amount of blood worried the heck out of me, but I kept searching in the increasing gray. I kept my slow progress towards where I’d seen the doe disappear into the brushy edge of the woodland. When I reached where the doe entered the forest I walked into a wall of sickly-sweet scent. Since there were no flowers this time of year, I wondered if I was smelling the release of pheromones from the doe’s tarsal glands. I had never before smelled a deer’s passage, but I kept on the track, using the feeble light of my iPhone because of the aforementioned boo-boo of leaving my headlamp at home.

I was very relieved when I stumbled over the doe lying in the middle of a briar patch, 50-yards inside the woodland. Glancing down at her back legs, I noticed the tarsal glands were dark orange, and the hair around them stained from the release of the pheromones. I guess I had indeed tracked my first deer using their scent glands. I grabbed the doe by her back legs and began dragging her toward the food plot. I learned three things by the time I finally reached the opening. First, the 130-pound doe felt like she weighed twice that much. Second, I was too out of shape to be dragging a doe for more than 10 yards, or even five. Third, I really was in the darkest place near Atlanta, GA.

The video discussing the rifle and Hornady bullet, resulting in a successful hunt, was quick and thankfully over with one take. When I signed off, the only thing I could see clearly was the approaching lights of Geoff’s pickup. I looked up at the night sky spread in all its glory and wondered if my [nerdy] interest in astronomy would lead me sometime to the Deerlick Astronomy Village for a better look at those stars and planets. Whether I made it back for stargazing, I looked forward to another invitation from Geoff, and a chance for my third Taliaferro doe.

Author profile

Mike Arnold is professor and Head of the Department of Genetics at the University of Georgia and author of the 2022 book, BRINGING BACK THE LIONS: International Hunters, Local Tribespeople, and the Miraculous Rescue of a Doomed Ecosystem in Mozambique. Mike’s book is available for purchase now at bringingbackthelions.com. You can find a description of Mike’s travels, talks, and articles at mikearnoldoutdoors.com.