I used to be an avid whitetail deer hunter and I will be again some day. My two little girls have an awesome impact on my life nowadays and that leaves very little time for hunting. If I get out more than twice a year now, it’s considered a miracle.
I used to go out and scout for signs just before archery season. I would to sit in my tree stand in the middle of summer, close my eyes and see myself watching that trophy buck come strutting up to me.
I hear a rustling of leaves. I can see the brown blob of color moving in the trees off to my right. Finally 30 yards away, right in front of me, he steps out from behind a big oak tree.
He stands in a ray if sunlight. The rest of the sky is gray with clouds that signal the seasons change. A light misty cloud rises at his portly legs as he stands there seemingly offering himself to me.
The ray of sun warms the morning dew and creates a steamy scene all around the majestic king of the woods.
His tin
es glisten in the sunlight and speckles of tree bark dance on his brow. All eight of his respect demanding, good genetic makeup and excellent diet resulting points can be scene in all their glory.
As he stands and commands respect of the woodland creatures around him, he receives it. He lowers his head and takes in a deep breath, holds it for a moment and then lets it go.
Has he picked up on her scent?
His head then rises into the ray of sunlight and again he takes in a long draw of the morning air, holds it for a moment and lets it go. His breath can be seen in the chilly air of the crisp mid-November morning.
He has some battle scares around hit face, a few deep red gouges here and there. He wears his badges with honor as he seeks out yet another mate or another battle for which he is ready and willing to engage to the death if it is to be that way.
He turns and shows that his hair is matted and wet in spots and his back legs are soaked with urine. He has be running for four days straight without any food or water in search of a willing doe. The need to spread his seed is overwhelming, maddening to the point of insanity. He has lost all focus and is distracted and driven by the inalienable need, the God given right, to procreate.
He sees the pond and wants. On the other side stands an inviting doe and he’s torn. Survival of self or survival of species? He’s stolen away by her presence and frozen in place.
He has made his choice and I have made mine.
I raise my gas powered, semi-automatic Remington 11-87 to my cheek. My heart begins to race. My breathing is rapid fire. I take aim at his lungs…
BLAM!
All in the blink of an eye the following plays out right before my eyes: He staggers for a moment. He attempts to take a step or two and he’s successful. He’s finally getting the message that’s being sent to his brain “something is not right, RUN!” He begins to run for his life… Like the shot out of my gun, he is off into the woods.
I thought I’d share my little day dream with you… I hope you enjoyed it.
Some day this scene will play out for me. For those of you fortunate enough to have experienced this, God has blessed you!
Good luck this weekend to all NY Hunters!
Be safe and be conservation minded.
Remember, if you have more than you need, consider making a donation to a local food pantry or soup kitchen and share your harvest with those in need. If you’re interested in donating, check out the Venison Donation Coalition: http://www.venisondonation.com/
Cheers!
~WNYDH
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