Early Season Whitetail: Patterning a New Hampshire Buck

By Jeffrey Cote

The Setup at the Academy

Back in May 2022, I was working at the Sig Sauer Academy in Epping, New Hampshire. If you’ve ever been to the facility, you know exactly why I felt like I hit the jackpot. The academy sits on 150 acres of prime, wooded terrain tucked into the foothills of the White Mountain Range. My role in facilities and maintenance meant I was constantly roaming the grounds, keeping the ranges operational. But for an outdoorsman, the real work started on my breaks and off hours. I spent every spare minute scouting the property, hanging trail cameras, and learning the nuances of the terrain.

June was a steady, quiet month. I was watching the resident doe population and a few small, velvet-racked bucks, feeling confident about the prospects for the upcoming season. I knew there was enough activity to put some meat in the freezer, but I never expected what July would reveal.

Patterning the "Sig Buck"

By the second week of July, a promising, main-framed 8-point started hitting the cameras on the southeast side of the property. He was a beauty, but he came with a catch: he only moved when the wind was blowing from the north. In Southern New Hampshire, you don’t typically get many northern winds in the middle of summer. However, we had a stretch of stormy weather that year that kept the air flowing from the north with enough regularity that I could actually track him.

As the dog days of summer wore on, he became predictable. I used the Buckeye Hunter Hub deer movement forecast and wind mapping tools to confirm my suspicions—he was a creature of habit. As the September 15th opener approached, my anticipation hit an all-time high. He started showing up during evening daylight hours near a small, quarter-acre pond. I felt like I had him dialed in. Then, the silence began. He vanished. Not a single photo for over a month. It was baffling—the acorns weren't dropping yet, and there was zero agriculture to draw him away. I kept checking the area, but the buck had simply ghosted me.

The September Sit

September 15th came and went, bringing warm 80-degree weather and southerly winds. He was nowhere to be found. By September 18th, the forecast finally shifted, calling for 25mph northwest winds and a drop to 68 degrees. My trail cam confirmed he was back, but I was stuck at home with a sick child. The next few days were back to the same old warm, stagnant weather, so I stayed patient.

Finally, September 25th looked perfect: 70 degrees, a 15mph northwest wind, and stable pressure at 30.3. I grabbed my Tethrd saddle, my platform, and my bow, and headed into the woods. I spent the afternoon replaying scenarios in my head. At 5:45pm, I did a final scan of the field edges. At 6:05pm, a blue jay sounded off, and I caught movement at my 9 o’clock. He was 150 yards out, slowly feeding my way.

Watching him close the distance felt like an eternity. 60 yards, 50, 45, 30. He was coming straight at me. I froze. He hit 16 yards and stopped, looking right at me. He knew. As he turned to bolt, I drew back, settled my pin behind his left shoulder, and let the arrow fly. It zipped through him, but he just stood there like a statue for 15 seconds before bounding off. The doubt hit me immediately. Did I miss?

Recovery and Reflection

After an hour of agonizing, I climbed down. I found my arrow quickly thanks to the lighted nock—bright red blood with bubbles confirmed a lung shot. My wife and a friend joined me for the track. In the thick New Hampshire foliage, the blood trail was easy to follow, and it ended quickly with a beautiful 8-point buck. Today, that "Sig Buck" hangs in my living room, ready for the Christmas decorations my girls love to put on him. It was a hunt that taught me the value of waiting for the right conditions, no matter how much you want to be in the stand.