For me, the end of deer season always signals the beginning of predator-calling season. January and February are the lean months, when victuals are scarce for all Nature’s critters. That makes the squeal of a wretched rabbit (or a reasonably good facsimile thereof) attractive to the meat-eaters.

That's what certain Indian tribes called the annual rutting period of the local whitetails. It's not a bad description, actually, of the three or four week peak mating season of our most plentiful native deer.

Last week we mentioned a few mysteries about whitetails' reproductive rituals. Now we'll examine some things we do know. We know that the timing of the rut varies with latitude. For example, the annual mating festivities in the South Texas Brush Country begin about one month later than in the Hill Country.

In my library are more than 100 books on hunting whitetail deer, including all the most significant volumes back to the very first one in 1881, the classic "The Still Hunter" by Van Dyke. Many of these are good reading, if only to observe how American hunters' understanding of deer behavior has evolved during these 125 years.

Speaking of ways to add challenge to your deer hunting (which we were, in this space two weeks ago), perhaps you’ve been considering a handgun, in addition to traditional muzzleloaders or string guns.

For 22 years, through Y2K, my wife and I owned Los Cuernos Ranch down on the border near Laredo in Webb County. A lot of interesting critters lived there, the most fascinating of which was a whitetail buck named (naturally) Bucky.

It is the nature of mankind to enjoy a challenge, and hunters are no different. This is why some deer hunters turn to the so-called “primitive weapons” — archery or traditional muzzleloading rifles.

We live in the very heart of Texas' exotic-game country. More free-ranging foreign beasts are frolicking around in Kerr County than anywhere else in Texas.

Ever eat a jackrabbit? Many years ago, I was a guest for some predator calling on a ranch on the Frio River. On arrival day we were served lunch by the ranch cook. Lunch was a delicious stew filled with tender meat that was obviously from a small mammal. I inquired of the cook what species of animal, and he very reluctantly informed me that it was a young jackrabbit he’d collected that morning. His reluctance was because he figured (correctly) that most Texans are prejudiced against eating jackrabbit.

As one who takes a certain pride in eating whatever I shoot, I find myself on the horns of a dilemma relative to turkey gobblers. I am not necessarily a hunter of trophy turkeys, being willing to settle for whichever long-beard comes to the call. I also take pride, however, in fooling big old mature toms and generally give jakes a free pass.