Too Close For Comfort

It's 5 am. on the second morning of deer season. And I'm not getting my warm clothes ready to go hunting. In a way that's sad, but in another way, it's a good sign. Years back, we hunted each and every day of the season. We had a party that was bigger that meant filling more tags and, well, back then, one just went, tags or no tags, because it was deer season. It was, simply, the way life was. The tag thing was figured out after the next shot. But these days, my party is down to two of us. (all others have passed on to eternal hunting worlds). For the better, we play by the rules these days. Right or wrong, the culture passed was acceptable by most. Now our hunting culture, smartly, has evolved into, after looking back, a better one, no doubt.

Now back track to yesterday morning--opening day.

After carefully making one gingerly step at a time, I waded through thigh and some times waist deep water and cattails hundreds of yards to get to my stand. It's a place where bucks grow old and some awfully big. It was the usual good, proud feeling as I sat down, knowing I had just made a trek very few hunters would attempt. Of course, nothing is guaranteed, but after countless bucks, some in the 160- to 170 inch(rack size)that I've brought across that water, the feeling is a good one. That first hour of deer season is, I think, in line with standing in the waiting room as an expectant first time dad would feel. The dark turned to dawn and then a clear view I only get to see one short period each year.

At 7:55 there's a deer! Does it have horns?(yes--I know--antlers) It was an adult deer I could see from the start. But was there spikes or forks? (no big, obvious rack I knew from the start) I focused between it's ears. I glanced behind it, knowing a lone adult doe would be good bait for a big buck to follow. Nothing. I watched the big doe, walk by about 60 ft. away and finally get down wind of me. But I had lost focus on the potential "follower". As she got all nervous and started to leave, it again dawned on me to think about looking back where she came from. That's when I got one of the sickest feeling I've had in a deer stand. Veteran hunter me, had just made a HUGE mistake watching that doe for so long. Now, standing a long 30 ft. from me was a giant buck. He was watching the doe too. I was had, no doubt. It was too close for comfort for me to do anything. My body and gun were pointed toward the doe. And it was obvious the buck was ready to bolt after watching her get nervous, now smelling a rat. To close for comfort is an understatement. So she bolts and he follows. He passed no more than 20ft. from me. So close, all I saw was fur in the scope. But the gun I've shouldered for over 4 decades fits so well, it went up and onto a shoulder as automatic as it's shell ejector. I rarely doubt my shooting but this was, again, just too close for comfort. I could only hope in this split second of a chance, the crosshairs were where I planned them to be as I squeezed the trigger. Then I thought about that water and dragging this big guy to the scale. It also includes a hill that is almost straight up and down---60 ft. high. Minutes later, in this "new" culture of mine, with bloody hands, I turned on the phone and resported where the cross hairs ended up being, to my favorite wife. I'd be home before 9 am....again.

My hunting partner, thankfully to say the least, is 30 years younger than I. And fortunately I let him inherit one of my high ground stands 16 years ago, where his 4 wheeler had just brought out a nice 10 pointer from. His 15th opening day deer in that stand. Now it was time, as is every year for him, to pay the rent on that stand. I chuckled, kinda feeling guilty though, as he labored through that water, with my buck in tow. He grunted as he could only make about two foot pulls at a time, he and the buck, up that hill. We had to get help, a third set of muscles, to lift the animal into the box of my '79 Ford pick up. (thank you Jimmy Ellingsen)That never had to happen before. We found out why when the scale finally quit stretching.

So I sit at a keyboard only one morning into my favorite two weeks of the year. Even after using TWO scales to verify the deers weight, I sit here and get the shakes knowing the whole episode was waaaaay too close for comfort. The thick and high, but only 16" spread 8 pointer measured a nice 141". A nice deer in any book. But weighing 229lbs. on one scale, and 230lbs. on the other, the height of that hill was too close for comfort just like the shot. Another 5 ft. and young Brandon and the deer wouldn't have made it. The kid, after the water trek, had given his all on the hill.