Second Season

This is my second season deer hunting and here's the big lesson: hunting is complicated.

By any conventional measure (antler size, pounds of meat, number of deer), my season could barely scrape the bottom rung of mediocre. I harvested a single deer, a small button buck (picture below).

I've also spent many more hours sitting in the woods than I had planned. My goal was to get one decent-sized deer for the freezer. Had it happened in the first 15 minutes of opening day, I would have happily moved on to other tasks, like cutting firewood or sitting in a boat waiting for a fish to bite. I foolishly thought, with one season under my belt, this one would be easier. But on many days the overriding feeling was frustration.

I've seen dozens of deer. But they have always seen me first, or come from behind, or been way out of range. I have come to terms with the randomness of deer movement. I pick a spot in the woods to sit, and imagine them approaching from a certain direction. Without fail, they approach from a another. On one occasion, a deer spotted me just across the property line and froze, staring at me for a good five minutes. On another, as a large herd passed behind me, one of the deer spied me and stood stomping the ground for several minutes, easily within range if I had just been facing the other way. There were several days I saw nothing. Frustrating.

Granted, I've placed some self-imposed limits on my opportunities. My shooting stick is a 20 gauge shotgun, single shot. I have two home-made stands, the tallest reaching a mere 8 feet off the ground. My landowner permit allows me only to hunt my own farm. I've yet to buy a bag of corn.



I certainly have the means (or at least the credit) to upgrade equipment and methods. But spending hundreds of dollars on high tech camo and a high-powered rifle would destroy my delusion of being a subsistence hunter. And in truth, there is much to be said for simple pleasures and modest success.

Besides, there is another way to take the measure of a season. There were the many lessons learned about stand placement and concealment and deer behavior and safety. There were countless tall tales told by hunting friends, and joys shared when buddies bagged a nice buck, or a twofer.

It can also be quantified in the experiences collected; a buck chasing a doe; a murder of crows moving through the trees in the morning; a herd of deer, well out of range, grazing in the open; a flock of turkeys, heard not seen, finding their evening roosts.

Finally, on New Year's Eve, with one day remaining in the season, I heard several deer (the same herd as before?) moving nearby. I was sitting in my stand next to the driveway. One came from behind, moving slowly. A few more moved through the woods in front, on the other side of the drive. I froze, knowing any movement might catch their eye and send them scurrying. They moved closer. One stepped onto the driveway within range, and I raised my gun. Before I could line up the shot, she was back amongst the trees. But with my gun still raised, the one approaching from behind cleared the woods. In a split second I considered direction and range and trigger pull advice from my mentor. I called him minutes later to share the news.

2013 was my second season, and on December 31st I harvested my second lifetime deer. It was a season of frustration and camaraderie and peaceful quiet moments among the trees. It was the season I learned that hunting is complicated. It was the season I decided to call myself a hunter.