The season had gotten off to a painfully slow start. After nine hunts, I had seen a total of (wait, let me check my records) approximately one gray squirrel and zero deer. Approximately.
But this evening was different. I was in a new location, near a stream and some oak trees with a good acorn crop. As I settled into my spot, I could hear the squirrels loudly scurrying through the leaves in the woods behind me. They continued their antics for nearly an hour.
In the thick woods I hunt, I see as much with my ears as my eyes. The sights and sounds of the woods can be surprising when you let yourself settle in and become part. The wing-swoosh of a bird passing close by, the "chirp-meow" of some unseen creature. Even trees swaying in the wind take on a new tone. I was listening closely for the footfalls of a deer.
Suddenly I noticed the squirrels had settled down, and I heard a rustle ahead. I waited, frozen. The doe appeared slightly to my left, moving slow and cautious, close but with plenty of tree trunks and saplings between us.
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| A pair of does peers through the brush and trees. |
Then her companion appeared close behind, a four point buck. In four seasons of hunting, I had seen maybe three bucks, too far away or moving too fast for a clear shot. But as I say, I am not a trophy hunter.
This one was close, easily within range of my peashooter. Now if I were a trophy hunter (to be clear, I'm not), I would likely pass on a four-point buck. But since I'm only after meat, this one was fair game.
Although I'm not a trophy hunter (did I already mention that?), it's possible that my heart raced a little faster than normal at the prospect of harvesting some antlers, even small ones. In fact, my body was wracked with great heaving breaths as I struggled to remain calm and still.
The buck saw me and stopped, transfixed. Deer, I've discovered, are curious creatures. They are intimately familiar with the rocks and trees and creatures and streams of their home, and I, dressed in camo sitting on a stool against a tree, was something new, a strange blob it had never encountered. Plant? Animal? Threat?
The buck clearly wanted to figure it out. Would curiosity outweigh caution? Would it stay to observe or bolt in fear? The sequence is normally a few stomps, a couple snorts, and then a dash away.
This one stomped twice, then twice more, still watching me, but paused the launch sequence. I tried to will my heart and breath to slow, to no avail. I studied the lay of the land carefully, calculating where he would have to step to give me a clear shot.
It took a few steps in the wrong direction, putting some thicker cover between us, but stopped again to peer cautiously at me from behind a tree trunk. Just maybe I would have a chance at some antlers. I mean meat since, as I say, I'm not after trophies.
It began moving further away. It's footsteps faded. I had lost track of the doe in the fading light.
But it's curiosity was powerful. It returned again, tantalizingly close, yet keeping just enough cover between us.
Once more it moved away, and returned again, wheels turning in it's mind as it studied my strange form. Ultimately, whatever it decided I was, it got no closer. It moved off for good and the light faded.
Two days later, hunting near the same oak grove, I took a small doe. If I had taken the buck, I would not have mounted the head to hang on the wall (since I am not a...wait, I think I covered that). But I certainly would have kept the antlers, maybe placed them on the mantle or the bookshelf, and picked them up from time to time to remember a hunt. As it was, the only trophy would be this story. But perhaps that was just enough.
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