It was Sunday morning. Matt and I rolled out of bed at 6 a.m., no earlier than usual, but not seeming quite right on a weekend. I wore three layers of shirts, plus an old pair of Matt's coveralls, then a hunter's orange jacket over that. Long johns, fleece pants, and two pairs of socks, winter boots... the most difficult part of hunting for me is staying warm. My favorite find of the year was instant-heat insoles, which warm the length of your foot, rather than just your toes. After walking nearly a mile into the woods, Matt taped a body heat pack to my back between the shoulder blades. If it wasn't for that heat pack, I never would have lasted those many hours on Saturday sitting in the cold. Sunday proved to feel a little warmer.
I set up my stool near the same birch grove I'd sat near on Saturday. I rested my shotgun (12 gauge, with a rifled barrel and scope) across my knees and settled in to wait. We'd arrived at first shooting light, and soon the sky was growing steadily lighter and the distant branches became distinct. My stool was positioned at the edge of a bedding area, criss-crossed with frequently used trails. Yesterday, I'd seen three does and a spike horn. We didn't have doe permits for this area, but I did raise my gun at the spike. He saw the movement and ran before I even got it to my shoulder.
Not being sheilded by a blind or other cover, I kept my shooting range in view by slowly moving my head side to side, so as not to scare any deer. Apparently, my human scent was not as easy to disguise as my movement, because I heard blowing and stomping behind me. I didn't turn to look, but figured they were does hoping to come into the bedding area, but smelling me instead. The shooting lanes were not good downwind, and I couldn't shoot any does, so I turned my attention to my right and waited some more.
Finally, after seeing nothing for several hours, I glanced at my watch. It was 9:15. I had an unsettled feeling about my current location. A disadvantage was my scent drifting behind me, which was where the deer seemed to be coming from today. I'd heard that deer tend to follow 3-4 day patterns (though I don't know whether that's true or not), which meant the deer I saw yesterday wouldn't be in that same spot today. I also knew that the first time you hunt a stand is the best one. Since we weren't hunting over bait, there was nothing to draw the deer to me. If that spike from the day before had bad feelings about this spot, he wasn't going to return. I debated what to do, and finally decided I would move.
I picked up my stool, insulated seat, and backpack and stepping quietly through the leaves, moved about 50-60 yards to another spot at the edge of the bedding area. For 10 minutes, I sat quietly, slowling swiveling my head. As my head turned back to center, I noticed the head of a buck about 35-40 yards away, staring silently through the bushes at me. Amidst the brush, I could see his brow tines and thought it was the spike from yesterday. As I looked more closely at him, I saw a rack curving up and forward and thought, This is a BIG deer.
I knew he'd take off and run soon, so I settled back to enjoy watching him for the few moments I had. I usually get excited and nervous before I shoot, but since I wasn't planning to shoot I was very calm.
When he started walking broadside to me, I slowly dropped off my left mitten. I picked up the barrel with my right. He heard this and turned to look. I froze. He kept walking. I slipped off the safety. He heard this and looked. I froze again. He continued on, this time behind thick brush. I thought, I might have lost him. I pulled the gun up and caught him in my sights. Still behind thick brush, I watched him until I could see him getting near a more open area. His body was hard to see, but his neck was in clear view. I aimed at his neck and pulled the trigger. He ran about 25 yards and fell. When I approached, he was still alive. I'll keep the details to a minimum and just say that I shot again to kill him quickly, although he would have died within minutes from the first shot.
Like my dad says, if we always buy our meat prepackaged in the store, we aren't forced to think of where the meat came from, or the animal that gave its life that we could have food. When you hunt wild game, you experience first-hand the joy and sorrow that accompanies a good kill. Amidst the thrill of a good hunt and the thought of plenty of meat for the freezer, I felt sad for killing such a beautiful creature. At the same time, a free-range deer has a quality of life significantly higher than most cattle processed for beef.
Undoubtably, this 10 pointer is one of the nicest deer I'll ever see in my lifetime, let alone have a chance to shoot at.
2 comments:
A TEN-pointer!!! Way to go Amy! Thanks for sharing the story. What patience to sit there so quietly - in the cold too!
I agree with your dad also. That's a good way to describe it. Today we enjoy so many conveniences from the streamlining of our food industry. We are (most people anyways) are so removed from the process of growing, cultivating, harvesting that, as a culture, we have little regard for all that goes into it, how the land is used, animal is grown, how it is processed, etc. You know, even though there is some sorrow attached to the kill, there must also be a sense of satisfaction of providing for yourself, similar to picking strawberries, wild blueberries... harvesting all those tomatoes you grow... or similar to cutting wood for the winter fire. Hunter-gatherer. :)
Amy, thanks for the explanation and making me think a bit!
Post a Comment