At least that's my personal experience. After several weeks of looking for a deer in the southwest Adirondacks and having no success, I returned to NJ Sunday afternoon.
First I spent a week with the muzzleloader but fleetingly saw three deer—too fleetingly to even raise the rifle, let alone take a shot. Luckily, my buddy Mark had better luck and we split the venison so there will be filet on the Thanksgiving table next to the turkey (store bought).
I then spent three weeks traipsing around the woods looking for a buck and seeing—nothing. Even after it snowed a couple of inches there were no tracks in the area we had been hunting—and I spent two days verifying that. It wasn't until Saturday morning when I walked into a nearly impenetrable swamp that I discovered where all the deer were hiding. If I had another week, I would have set up on the edge of that swamp ever morning and stay there all day. Unfortunately I had to head home.
All that walking wasn't wasted. I managed to get a better picture of the woods on my acreage and where the borders really are. I also have a better idea of where the deer hide—for future reference and all that.
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