Saw a fine buck there last week

I was off Friday, so I camped Thursday night and had a three- day New Year's weekend to hunt. Scouting Friday morning, I took stands at several places. I saw no deer, but located this likely- looking spot. There are several cross- trails coming up from the creek bottom and this low, broad ridge separates two deep hollows. Trails lead out of those hollows, left and right from here. The main trail follows an abandoned pipeline right- of- way across this view, and there are several deer rubs scaattered along it. When I ambled back here Friday afternoon, the breeze was from the left, so I found a spot to set up on the downhill side. Just at sunset, I saw movement, and a deer came bobbing and looking down the trail. I suspect she saw me from a distance, as she appproached so warily. She stood and studied me for a long time, but couldn't identify me and the wind continued to cooperate. Eventually, she decided she didn't like the situation, and stepped quickly away. I had been studying her, too. I kept trying to put spike horns on her, as gun season was in progress and it was bucks- only. No sooner had she shied away, than the buck came trailing her; he was obviously love- sick. Every few steps, he would utter a soft R- R- R- R- P, like dragging a thumbnail down the teeth of a comb, probably what they refer to as a "tending" click or grunt. It was too fast and too open; I didn't have an opportunity to get my bow up. I suspect the doe must have alerted him somehow; he stopped with me in sight and loitered around. He was close! Less than ten yards. A fair sized buck, his neck was thick, and his coat was unkempt. He was about an eight- point, judging from the size of the rack, but I was too busy to be counting. He was acting very casual. He lowered his head scenting the ground, he wagged his tail, he stepped over and nibbled leaves above him. He turned his rump to me and reached around to lick a spot on his back. During all of these antics, he never diverted his attention from me; those ears kept swiveling with every move, always directed toward me. He was toying with me, watching me while pretending not to. I kept still, hoping he would step behind something or turn his head and allow me to draw. When he moved, it was up the hill and behind this fallen tree, and I never got a chance to shoot. He screwed up, letting me get so close, but his size attests that he makes very few mistakes. On my next visits, the wind favored this uphill position, and the fallen tree served well as a natural blind. I hunted the trail the next morning and afternoon, but he didn't pass again.