"Florida Bucks" // Whitetail
Words and Photography by Rob Kinney
Read Time: 10 Minutes
While the first week of August in south Florida might mean the opening of the regular lobster season to most, to a hardy band of Florida hunters, it means rutting whitetails. Meanwhile, back home in Mississippi, folks are fishing, running to the river, and enjoying the last drops of summer before the school year begins while we await the traditional and “emotional opener” of hunting season: dove season.
A few weeks ahead of the trip, I was talking with my good friend Dawson Leake about a trip that he and a few other fellas with our friends at Moultrie (Benny Schumann and Tyler Peck) were taking at the end of July to go hunt the whitetail rut down in south Florida. I was intrigued and eager to get out into the field. I half-jokingly said “can I come?!” expecting Dawson to either laugh or say that they had a full trip. He did neither, and the next thing I knew, I was in for the trip. No one was more surprised than I was. It’s funny how things change.
If you told me just two years ago that I would be southbound on I-75 to south Florida on July 31st to hunt the whitetail opener the following morning, I would have laughed in your face. Now, in 2026, apparently all it takes for me to go along on a whitetail hunt is a wouldn’t-it-be-cool-if conversation and “what are the dates?”
Now; if you didn’t realize whitetails are rutting in August in south Florida, you’d be forgiven. The Florida whitetail is a special deer. Brief bit of science here… biologists agree that there are three sub-species within Florida. The “Seminole Deer” (Odocoileus virginianus seminolus) is the peninsular sub-species, the “Keys Deer” (Odocoileus virginianus clavium,) which will be familiar to those who have visited the Florida Keys, and the “Coastal Deer” (Odocoileus virginianus Osceola.) These deer are all North American Whitetails but differ enough in characteristics and behavior to be considered a “sub-species” on a taxonomic level. While the term, “Seminole Deer” is technically correct, and less widely known, you can never go wrong with sticking with “South Florida whitetail.”
Florida whitetails are not known for their size (a mature buck weighing from 120-180lbs) and there’s debate about what causes that but there’s no debating that trying to get within bow range of this elusive critter will test a hunter. All the bucks we saw down there had muscular bodies and chocolate racks, beautiful deer. They were “hard-horned” and rutting.
And yes – rutting. By August 1st, they’ve shed their velvet and chasing does and acting like Southeastern or Midwestern whitetails in peak rut. It was crazy. In August? Even for someone who has relatively limited whitetail hunting experience (compared to many of you reading this) I was shocked.
There were two main ways that we went about hunting these whitetails. The first was to spot and stalk them, the second was a ground blind. There were really two types of land features down there, oak hammocks and wide-open space peppered with grass clumps, each clump just big enough to hide a man. Something you need to understand about this part of south Florida is that it is flat. I mean, FLAT. There are no hills or swales or bits of terrain to tuck into.
The first day, we were driving around on the side-by-side scouting and glassing the fields and wood edges trying to get inside about 400 yards on a buck before we’d make a stalk. We gave a few attempts the morning and early afternoon but didn’t really get close.
In the afternoon, however, our luck changed. We saw a nice buck about 500 yards away breeding a doe. After they broke away from each other he started chasing some other does. We knew he was a perfect candidate for a stalk. The gentlemen that they are, Tyler and Benny played a quick game of rock-paper-scissors to decided who would take the stalk. Benny won and he and Dawson began their stalk. We watched as they made their way from grass clump to grass clump across an open field until they were lost from sight about 200 yards away from us.
While Benny and Dawson headed on their stalk, Tyler and I spotted another deer in the opposite direction working a wood edge. He was about 400 yards and chasing a doe. As we watched the doe, we realized that she was bearing in our direction and we moved to cut her off. We put a small oak hammock between us and the deer and made a sprint for it. By the time we were able get to the edge of the palmettos and look out, we were about 80 yards from the doe and she was bringing the buck straight to us on a cattle trail. Tyler nocked an arrow and got to a knee behind the palm. They were coming on a string. It felt like it was too perfect.
Turns out it was. Tyler peaked through a small opening and saw that the doe was starting to head to our right off the trail and around the hammock. We slid around to try to cut them off again but the doe made us. The buck held his position and the doe ran towards him and must have spooked him because he ran off into the sunset with the doe hot on his heels. They may still be running.
Tyler and I made our way back to the side-by-side hoping to hear a good report from Benny and Dawson. After some time (and a quick nap on the grass) Benny and Dawson returned. We came to find out that they managed to stalk 400+ yards on this buck and get within bow range. Benny was able to let an arrow go and missed short. He was at 40 yards. It happens. We weren’t sure exactly what happened but just to get inside of bow range in that kind of country on whitetail is a huge feat of woodsmanship. And if you’re going to miss, a clean miss is the best kind.
Later that evening, Tyler and Dawson put a stalk on a deer. Again, in the wide open. They must have crawled with their faces in the grass for 200 yards before getting inside of 80 yards on the buck. Something spooked the deer behind them and the deer eased off to 150 yards or so. The two decided that he wasn’t spooked but that it would be better not to push him since it was getting late and it was just day 1. He’d be back there the next evening.
The next morning was uneventful, we had a few sightings but nothing promising. After what we had seen the day before, the deer activity didn’t really pick up until the sun starting to sink towards the western horizon, around 4:30 p.m. or so.
We went to the local gas station down the road and grabbed one of the best Cuban sandwiches that I’ve ever had. We bumped into some other hunters as well and talked about how our hunts were going. Some had been successful and others swore that deer were extinct. I’m not sure what it is but when you bump into other hunters in the gas station, there is definitely a kinship and a camaraderie there that makes you open to talking with one another so quickly.
Over lunch we discussed the plan for the afternoon and decided that Tyler and I would make a sit near where he and Dawson had the encounter with the buck the night before. We were sure he would be back. Fueled by Cubans, mandarin Jarritos, and a strawberry ice-cream bar, it was time to go out and make our sit.
When we made it to our spot, we tucked into some palmettos on the edge of an oak outcropping and settled in for the evening. It was a great hide. We had plenty of visibility and good shooting lanes. The weather left a little bit to be desired though. It was 94 degrees and humid, not an inch of us was dry. It wasn’t long before the deer activity picked up, a little earlier than the day before. A doe came in walked around and fed and eased off. After about another hour a doe came into view and we could tell she was hot. We knew that our buck couldn’t be far away.
He wasn’t. Not long after the doe came out, out he walked into view (about 45 yards.) Tyler immediately recognized him from the night before. He had a limp on his front shoulder. He came in, checked the wind, and set about working a scrape. My heart was hammering at this point because I wasn’t sure if Tyler was planning on taking a shot right away or if he was going to let him work. The buck walked to another scrape and began to work it. We sat there for what felt like an hour watching him work the scrape. Turns out it was only about 15 minutes or less.
The doe started to get shifty and started working our way to check us out. The crows called loudly and only added to the tension. I was sitting in the blind next to Tyler and filming the buck. He was only about 30 yards or so but Tyler didn’t have a shot. Just then, my battery light started blinking on my camera. My camera battery was dying – in the critical moment. The doe was x-raying our position and starting to work off. I whispered to Tyler, “brother, I’ve got bad news and I’m going to need your help right now.” So, while the buck was putting the finishing touches on his scrape, Tyler managed to reach into my bag and locate my battery and pass it to me. He kept saying, “be patient, he’s not going anywhere.” Which impressed me because that’s not exactly what my words would have been if I was in his position.
I swapped the camera batteries without the doe seeing me and was able to get back on the buck. It was at that moment that he began to follow the doe out of the little oak outcropping we were in. Tyler stopped him and put a beautiful shot on him. He didn’t run 100 yards before he went down. Textbook. Well, except the whole battery deal…
It’s special when it all comes together when you are with a friend. The saying, “instant old friends” rings true once more. Tyler and I had known one another for years but this was our first couple of hunts together and it felt like we’d been hunting together for years. I’ll remember this one for a long time.
As it always is, Florida was full of unique experiences, people, and places. We found Boone and Crockett mosquitoes, hot temps, gas-station Cubans, old Florida landscapes, got caught in a rain storm that was “going to miss us” and had some close spot-and-stalk encounters with whitetails that reminded you why hunting and the pursuit of game is so special. This trip was a good one, full of good times with old friends and “instant old friends.”
Congratulations to Tyler Peck on his first, south Florida whitetail.
