Last weekend’s steady deluge of precipitation didn’t hamper our annual hunting trip to the Adirondacks.

In fact, we found the weather quite delightful. While you folks here in the Oneonta area were getting steady downpours and near-flood conditions, the north country was blessed with just an occasional sprinkle, a few snowflakes and a slight mist. It made the hunting quite marvelous.

On Saturday morning, we drove along Speculator’s East Road into the Adirondack wilderness. I was surprised that there were so few hunters in the woods.

Normally on opening weekend, there are cars and hunters everywhere, but either the weather forecast scared everyone away or the hunters are finally getting tired of spending their time and money and seeing no deer.

[an error occurred while processing this directive]Over the years, the deer population in the Adirondacks has been in a steady downward spiral. Many hunters have decided to go elsewhere after spending their vacations wandering the woods and seldom seeing any wildlife. But for us, there was the camaraderie of friends and the fun of climbing the steep hills, pushing through thick brush and wading over our boots in the cold, wet swamps.

After hunting for many years in the northern mountains, I have concluded that the deer either live in the swamps along the rivers or on the very tops of the mountains but not in between.

We decided to start our weekend adventure down low along the river bottom. Three of us spread out from the road to the river and slowly still hunted north to our other three friends, who had taken positions along an old, abandoned log road.

Within a few moments, we were right into the deer. There were tracks everywhere. I found rubs and scrapes from a large buck and jumped a couple of does. I’d move a few feet before stopping to look, then continue on through the alders, striped maple and other thick, leaf-covered brush.

You see, we were hunting International Paper Company’s land in Hamilton County. They have been constantly cutting timber and pulp wood from their property for many, many years.

It’s not like the state land, where old growth timber restricts new growth, that deer and other wildlife depend upon. The old canopy of large maples, cherry and oaks has been removed, and new growth and good feed is everywhere in the forest.

Suddenly, I jumped three deer. Two were definitely does. They bounded off with their tails waving while the other disappeared like a ghost into the shadows and thick undergrowth, his tail tucked tightly between his legs.

Even though I couldn’t see his antlers, I knew it was a good buck.

The two does crossed a beaver flow and ran right past 200-yard Chuck. (You may remember him from last year.) Soon, we all met up, ready to try it again.

We made a similar quiet drive over East Mountain, but there were no deer on top. So, we spent the rest of the weekend hunting the river flats. We saw 10 deer in all, and two were definitely bucks.

That’s not bad for a trip up north.

One of the bucks was just a young six-pointer. The other buck, however, was a dandy. He carried a large, dark set of antlers that extended well beyond his ears and reached high above his head. We had invaded his sanctuary, where few other hunters want to venture.

To find these big, old bucks, you must push through thicker brush and deeper swamps. When knee-deep water hinders your approach, you wade on, knowing that a dry hummock in the midst of it all is the buck’s secret dwelling place.

We didn’t put any venison on the table this past weekend, but we gave it a gallant effort and had a wonderful time.

Besides, that’s why they call it "hunting."

Rick Brockway writes a weekly outdoors column for The Daily Star. E-mail him at brockway@dmcom.net.