A Deer Hunt
The feel of the leather grip in my palm holding tension, the weight, the sound; the well waxed string sliding through the cams, as a monstrous well lubed piece of machinery and it’s bearings and all its brawn and steel does as it groans to pick up a grand load; my bow strained under its immense strength as I drew back. The all too faint sound of the arrow sliding back through its rest with a soft telltale grind as my arm reached its peak, muscles tense, the razor sharp broadhead glistened in the evening sun. My eyes intent on what’s ahead, my heart thumping, quickening in pace, the view in my head intently focused as all other sight goes dark, almost as if suffering from temporary tunnel vision, the only thing clear in view was a nice eight point walking dead ahead, concentrating on his breakfast.
I wasn’t in the best position, he had come from the south and I was facing southwest. With artifice, I switched position as the deer continued grazing on the perfectly green fauna he had been so intent on finding. He didn’t notice the gravel resting beneath me groan with detest as I squirmed to get correct stance. Bow still drawn I took aim; he was moving away from me at a brisk stride and his head was low to the ground. It was a nice warm autumn evening, the grass was still green and I was eager for some smoked deer roast. I had high hopes when I left that afternoon. Somehow I knew I would be getting some meat today. All day long at work I drove everyone mad with my eagerness, it was Friday and I was going hunting all weekend. I was off! It had been unusually warm this season so far and deer movement had been delayed some, but I wanted to go, I had to go. Nothing was going to stop me this weekend! Not this weekend! As the sweat from my brow dripped down to the tip of my nose, I noticed the spectacular muscle tone, majestic and magnificence this beast possessed out here, in the wilderness, his grandeur was not unlike a royal steed befitting a king of the highest status, oblivious to me, oblivious to the mundane turmoil we humans like to advance on ourselves. I think it’s funny how, we as a people, think we are so smart; when the simplest things, more times than not, are the correct things in this world of confusion, hustle and bustle, and pain!
After all the practice and all the time invested, the sore backs and the tired muscles, it had all come down to this. This one moment when the only thing existing, was myself, and this deer grazing, forty yards or better, in front of me. I’d have to wait on him to get closer, but he wasn’t coming, he was going. As my heart ached with the idea that I may not get a shot, I wished him closer, I wanted to reach out and grab his antlers and tug him into range as a selfish child would reach out and grab something without asking or respect for the matter at hand. All I could do was watch and wait as he flicked his tail and continued to munch on the green oat sprouts that lay before him as if twitting me. The sky was overcast and the evening wind was beginning to move in, bringing a much appreciated shiver, instantly cooling my skin as though I were under a cold draft of an open freezer; the cloud of invisible air washing over me in a smooth, graceful motion. I continued my stance longer, for the slightest movement now would reveal my position to this master of scent, master of survival and master of his domain. I began to think if another buck was to come in behind him, I would surely have been exposed and I would have, yet again, been shut down. I was sitting Indian style under a young pine tree thicket, hunched almost into a ball next to an old iron gate that had long been abandoned. The perch from which I monitored was slightly more elevated than the terrain behind me adding a greater effect to the camouflage’s masking ability. According to the view from the buck I would have blended with the tops of the trees that stood, at my height, behind me.
Twoop! I released the string with great relief and a tug; the bow coerced the arrow off its perch with full force and veracity. The cams worked flawlessly, the bow yawned and groped and the limbs vibrated to a halt. Not a sound was made! For what seemed like an eternity the arrow flew towards its target with precise deliverance and merciless guile. The arrow pierced his left side with but a whisper and a crack. It seemed like a moment passed before the animal acknowledged that it was hit. A cloud of dust rose up as he took off to the north full speed, I wasn’t sure I had hit him until after a few yards he began to raise his left leg with a limp. HA! I had hit him. My heart trembled with excitement at the thought! The blood and adrenaline rushed through my veins as though I had just descended down double black, in the middle of fresh powder with all the speed my skis could muster! With a terrible crash and thump he went down the embankment behind me and fell. From deep in the forest behind me I could here the sound of an animal in a mad fit, thrashing all in sight as it continued its brutish battle for survival. I, in fact, had hit him and I gleamed with success at the marvel of it. The intimacy with this animal was fascinating, not another soul in the area heard what had just happened, I continued to sit and wait. I didn’t want him running too far and lose my chance to go and find him, so I waited. I waited and waited until I hadn’t heard a sound for a few minutes before I got up.
The silence was deafening as I rose up for the first time in hours, my legs were stiff and the cool night was taking hold. I knew I had to hurry, for I’d never find him in the dark! After placing my gear into the truck and retrieving my flashlight I headed off in the direction I last heard him. A short distance later I found where he had fallen, looking around I found the trail where he had gotten up and in his desperate flight tried to escape the area. I followed the trail until I found him; a vacuous look in his eye, laying flat on his side with the fatal arrow sticking out of his side. He had tried one last vain attempt to escape by trying to jump an old run down barbed wire fence. There he lay, his black eyes staring up at me with blankness not befitting a creature of such magnitude and grace. I withdrew the arrow from his side to examine the broadhead, noticing the bubbly mix of air and blood coating the tip. I had pierced his lung for sure and from the size of the blood trail I had hit a major artery as well. I knew he would taste well, for he had bled out, nice and clean. I relished in the acquisition of his soul and blessed his soul for a safe journey to its eternal destination as I drug his magnificent corpse to the truck.
Mmmmm, I could already taste him, as my mouth watered I anticipated the business I had to tend to and the superbly smoked roasts I would soon be making!
