My deer season was over at 8:00 AM last Saturday morning. That is by far the fastest that I have ever filled a deer tag but that was only one of the memories that were made in a short period of time. You can see the deer, and the smiles on our faces, but to only share those would be to gloss over some other amazing moments.
Mason and I arrived at our small, off-the-grid cabin last Friday evening. We managed to fire up our new generator and get some lights on which aided me in getting a fire started in the small wood burning stove. A 38 degree cabin sure feels better with light and a fire. After some Subway sandwiches, we prepared clothing and gear for our deer hunt the following morning. We got the temperature in the cabin up to about 60 degrees where it stayed most of the night. I had to add some wood to the fire a couple of times, but it was no big deal.
The alarm went off at 4:30 AM. We quickly started to get dressed, wolfed down some donuts, and made sure all bodily functions were performed prior to a long sit in the cold. I have to admit, I moved with the swiftness of a small child on Christmas morning. Mason was a little more lethargic but then again, he wasn't hoping to be pulling any triggers either. We were on the road to our hunting spot at 5:30.
We pulled into a cut corn field at 5:40 and had about a half mile walk back to our hunting spot. The air felt cool when it hit our skin but there wasn't much skin exposed and the walking warmed us up. We arrived at our destination and quickly set up our pop-up blind. We were settled in at 6:00 and Mason was asleep by 6:10. For the next 20 minutes, I simply enjoyed the silence. The wind was still and the birds were silent. Most of the time, there wasn't a sound and it was a nice break from the hustle and bustle of daily life. The shooting started at 6:30 sharp.
I heard 30 gunshots (yes, I counted) between 6:30 and 7:00. We didn't see anything other than a couple of turkey fly out of a roost but the excitement and optimism of opening day helped us both to focus (Mason woke up around 7:00). We saw our first deer at 7:05. He was a young 6 pointer that ended up getting pretty close. He spotted 4 does up the hill from us and ran up there to chase them around for a little while. Another four point buck showed up to partake in the shenanigans and a pair of twin 4 pointers (I'm guessing they were 6 months old) showed up and didn't really seem to understand what was going on.
To our right, three more does showed up with a buck that was missing most of his right side. It looked like he broke it off while fighting and we were both disappointed because his left side had four nice points. We shook off our disappointment and tried to just enjoy the fact that we were deer hunting and covered up in deer. As fortune would have it, a nicer 9 pointer walked out of the woods right behind him. That's when things became serious.
We both felt the tension in the blind and both of our moods changed. It is important to note here that I haven't shot a deer in a few years and that Mason has NEVER been on a successful deer hunt. I wanted him to see what a successful hunt entailed before he makes the decision about whether he wants to be the one behind the gun.
The buck was headed right towards us and didn't offer me a shot. He then started heading for a hillside and while I was trying to calculate the distance between us, he skylined. I started to question whether I made a mistake by not taking a shot earlier but I knew that I made the right ethical call. I hoped, and almost prayed, that the buck would head back down the hill towards the other buck and the does. Thanks to some luck, and maybe some divine intervention, he did just that.
As he headed our way, a tree obscured his view of us and my shot on him. He turned broadside a couple of times and offered me a shot but branches and brush kept me from taking what I considered a smart shot. He continued to head our way and ended up stepping out into a clear spot at about 75 yards. He turned broadside and presented me with the shot that I wanted at a distance I felt comfortable with. I told Mason to cover his years and I squeezed the trigger.
Bing! There was no shot fired. I quickly deduced that there was a misfire. I chambered another round and squeezed the trigger again. Bing! Another misfire. Another chambered shell and another BING! Three chances and three misfires. To this day, I have no idea what happened. I had one more round in the magazine and racked the last cartridge. I casually placed the crosshairs on the buck that had shockingly stuck around. I squeezed the trigger one last time.
BANG! A shot rang out that surprised the buck, Mason, and myself! I saw him bleeding as he ran towards some timber. Just like that, the moment was over and Mason and I were left to figure out what had happened and what to do next.
We replayed the moment and tried to comprehend what had happened and why. Why had the gun misfired? Why did it eventually fire? Why did the deer hang around for so long? Was the buck down? Would we find him?
Excitement and curiosity were the topics of discussion for the next 20 minutes. I had to explain to Mason that we had to wait to look for the deer so we didn't push it further into the brush if it was injured. I also had to educate him about the importance of doing everything we could to recover the deer. He was a little surprised when I told him that if we found the deer, that the REAL work would start at that point. He didn't understand what I meant and I told him that he would.
After what felt like an eternity, we stepped out of the blind and walked to the spot where I thought the deer was standing when I shot. We didn't see any blood or fresh tracks. We then headed toward the timber where we thought he had left the field. No signs there either. I told Mason that we had to look harder to get a better bearing on where to head next. After a lack of indicators, I just started to look into the timber.
It didn't take long until I saw something white on the ground. It was too far and too obstructed by brush to tell what it was. I thought that it could have been fungus growing on a tree stump and Mason thought there was a chance that it could be the deer. I took three steps to my right and saw the unmistakable curl of antlers rising from the ground.
I grabbed Mason by the coat and pulled him towards me. Without the ability to speak, I pointed in the direction of the antlers. He didn't see it at first but when he zeroed in on the sight, he smiled and gave me a hug. He started jumping up and down and I followed suit. We had completed our first successful deer hunt together and this was a father and son moment that was special.
We slowly made our way to the deer and found it to me expired. There was excitement, silence, and a prayer of appreciation. After the excitement tempered slightly, we got to work. To make a long story short, we field dressed the buck and took it to my good friend and colleague that wanted the meat for the freezer. I took the antlers to my high school biology teacher to mount. I also removed the tail to use for fly tying.
The deer was recovered at 8:00 AM. This was the shortest deer season that I have ever had. However, this was a season that created a memory that will last...hopefully...two lifetimes.
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