SIBUD
11-15-2007, 10:30 PM
is low in the western sky, casting a pale glow. A cold front moved thru last night and the wind switched to the N bringing cooler temperatures a clear sky. It will be in the 20’s tonight and the brightly shining stars appear close enough to reach.
I have just completed a ritual over thousands of years old. It is practiced world wide and goes back in history to a point prior to the written word. Ancient peoples painted pictures on rock walls as a record of this ritual. Stories of this activity were told and retold and some became legends.
This story however, starts a few days ago. It takes place somewhere known as “The Woods”. This parcel of timber is owned by a long time friend who has graciously allowed me to hunt there for over a quarter of a century. During that time I have become intimately familiar with the lay of the land. Stands have become well known places such as: “The Leaner”, “The Swamp”, “The 3 Hole-er”, “Todd’s Blind”, “The Taj” and the newest “Taj II”. Paths thru the woods have become “Frenchman’s Trail”, “Maple Street”, “The Jungle Trail”, “The Road to the Lower Field”.
Traditions have been established such as donuts from Gutzler’s, the local donut shop, before going hunting. Hunters breakfast the first Saturday at 10:00 AM sharp. Don’t come at 10:01 and complain there is nothing left. Breakfast is always the same. Scrambled eggs, toast, sausage, fried potatoes, milk, OJ, coffee. Breakfast is served around an open fire in the corral next to the cabin. As Grandpa became unable to make the breakfast, I became his assistant and upon his passing became the camp cook. It always amazes me that no matter how many or few show up for breakfast, no one goes hungry or throws food away.
Inside the cabin, there are deer antlers mounted around the room, all from deer taken on the property. Some have arrows or parts of arrows across their tines. Stories are told and retold about some of the bigger ones. About how Gary shot the right beam off of one and had a taxidermist repair it.
All of the above is the background for the story of today’s hunt. I hunted often in a tree north of Todd’s Blind. However, I noticed that the deer were south of this and west of Maple Street. Thinking I could outsmart them, I moved the next time to Taj II, however, they then went either north or south of there. Many were walking down Maple Street feeding on acorns. So once again it was time to try a different location the next time I hunted.
I climbed a tree halfway between Taj II and Todd’s Blind but right on Maple Street. As I put my climbing stand on the tree and got ready to climb, I glanced west of Maple Street and saw a doe and a respectable 8 point buck about 40 yards away. Of course, once they saw that I was looking at them, away they went, white tails high in the air. Knowing there are many more deer in the woods, I began to climb with anticipation. After a half an hour, I saw a fork horn buck crossing Maple Street on a trail that would take him right by the tree I had previously hunted from. Oh well, that’s why it is called hunting. About 45 minutes later, I saw a doe and skipper (deer born this spring) to the south, again way beyond bow distance. Now I was beginning to think that I was wasting my time and should have gone to either of the previous locations. But hunting is not like fishing, you don’t just decide to move every 30 minutes.
The sun started it’s descent in the western sky casting a yellowish haze streaming thru the colorful autumn leaves. It is a time of magic as your world continues to shrink with the approaching twilight. Unlike the morning when there is always the possibility of seeing deer as the day progresses, hunting in the evening has a natural time limit. A time where it is too dark to shoot, even though you can still make out the shape of deer as they filter thru the woods like grey ghosts, silently getting farther and farther away.
Around 4:35, I saw a skipper heading my way from west of Maple Street. Knowing it was unlikely that she was very far from her mother, and that during rut bucks are often close behind, I continued to scan the timber hoping to see more deer. The skipper come to Maple Street and headed straight towards my stand. She ended up about 5 yards away, browsing on acorns, completely unaware of my presence. Hearing the rustling of leaves in the distance, I saw two deer running south, about 50 yards away. I expected it to be a doe with a buck behind, however it was two does. They stopped west of me and didn’t move for a long time. I was still expecting to see a buck behind them but it was not to be.
One of the does begin to feed in my direction. Head down, coming straight towards my tree. Hunting ethics require a hunter to make a quick kill. While difficult for non-hunters to understand, death is a part of hunting, but hunters try to avoid the suffering of wounding without killing. Unless she turned sideways, I would not have a clean shot and would have to let her go by. However, about 15 yards away, she turned almost broadside to me and presented and excellent shot. It was over in a matter of seconds. For most hunters, this is a bitter sweet moment difficult to explain and more difficult for non-hunters to understand.
I climbed down and walked over to the brush pile the owner was burning, out by the cow pound. We got on his ATV and went back to my stand. Part of the ritual is telling the story: when did I get there, how many deer did I see, where did they come from, where was the deer standing when I shot, where did it go. Then the dragging to Maple Street so we could bring the tractor down to take her back to the shed, after I field dressed her. Hung her from the rafters in the shed, where hundreds of other deer have hung in years past.
I drove home to have supper. My daughter and grand daughter are spending the night and I wanted a chance to say hi to them before going back to the shed. The deer was already cool on the inside, which was exposed to the air. However, I had to skin her so the rest would cool down tonight. I used a hand make knife to skin her, which was given as a gift to me by a friend I’ve known over 40 years.
Using the knife began the thought process about the connectedness of friends, who also happen to both be hunters, and how our participation continues the ritual started thousands of years ago.
I have just completed a ritual over thousands of years old. It is practiced world wide and goes back in history to a point prior to the written word. Ancient peoples painted pictures on rock walls as a record of this ritual. Stories of this activity were told and retold and some became legends.
This story however, starts a few days ago. It takes place somewhere known as “The Woods”. This parcel of timber is owned by a long time friend who has graciously allowed me to hunt there for over a quarter of a century. During that time I have become intimately familiar with the lay of the land. Stands have become well known places such as: “The Leaner”, “The Swamp”, “The 3 Hole-er”, “Todd’s Blind”, “The Taj” and the newest “Taj II”. Paths thru the woods have become “Frenchman’s Trail”, “Maple Street”, “The Jungle Trail”, “The Road to the Lower Field”.
Traditions have been established such as donuts from Gutzler’s, the local donut shop, before going hunting. Hunters breakfast the first Saturday at 10:00 AM sharp. Don’t come at 10:01 and complain there is nothing left. Breakfast is always the same. Scrambled eggs, toast, sausage, fried potatoes, milk, OJ, coffee. Breakfast is served around an open fire in the corral next to the cabin. As Grandpa became unable to make the breakfast, I became his assistant and upon his passing became the camp cook. It always amazes me that no matter how many or few show up for breakfast, no one goes hungry or throws food away.
Inside the cabin, there are deer antlers mounted around the room, all from deer taken on the property. Some have arrows or parts of arrows across their tines. Stories are told and retold about some of the bigger ones. About how Gary shot the right beam off of one and had a taxidermist repair it.
All of the above is the background for the story of today’s hunt. I hunted often in a tree north of Todd’s Blind. However, I noticed that the deer were south of this and west of Maple Street. Thinking I could outsmart them, I moved the next time to Taj II, however, they then went either north or south of there. Many were walking down Maple Street feeding on acorns. So once again it was time to try a different location the next time I hunted.
I climbed a tree halfway between Taj II and Todd’s Blind but right on Maple Street. As I put my climbing stand on the tree and got ready to climb, I glanced west of Maple Street and saw a doe and a respectable 8 point buck about 40 yards away. Of course, once they saw that I was looking at them, away they went, white tails high in the air. Knowing there are many more deer in the woods, I began to climb with anticipation. After a half an hour, I saw a fork horn buck crossing Maple Street on a trail that would take him right by the tree I had previously hunted from. Oh well, that’s why it is called hunting. About 45 minutes later, I saw a doe and skipper (deer born this spring) to the south, again way beyond bow distance. Now I was beginning to think that I was wasting my time and should have gone to either of the previous locations. But hunting is not like fishing, you don’t just decide to move every 30 minutes.
The sun started it’s descent in the western sky casting a yellowish haze streaming thru the colorful autumn leaves. It is a time of magic as your world continues to shrink with the approaching twilight. Unlike the morning when there is always the possibility of seeing deer as the day progresses, hunting in the evening has a natural time limit. A time where it is too dark to shoot, even though you can still make out the shape of deer as they filter thru the woods like grey ghosts, silently getting farther and farther away.
Around 4:35, I saw a skipper heading my way from west of Maple Street. Knowing it was unlikely that she was very far from her mother, and that during rut bucks are often close behind, I continued to scan the timber hoping to see more deer. The skipper come to Maple Street and headed straight towards my stand. She ended up about 5 yards away, browsing on acorns, completely unaware of my presence. Hearing the rustling of leaves in the distance, I saw two deer running south, about 50 yards away. I expected it to be a doe with a buck behind, however it was two does. They stopped west of me and didn’t move for a long time. I was still expecting to see a buck behind them but it was not to be.
One of the does begin to feed in my direction. Head down, coming straight towards my tree. Hunting ethics require a hunter to make a quick kill. While difficult for non-hunters to understand, death is a part of hunting, but hunters try to avoid the suffering of wounding without killing. Unless she turned sideways, I would not have a clean shot and would have to let her go by. However, about 15 yards away, she turned almost broadside to me and presented and excellent shot. It was over in a matter of seconds. For most hunters, this is a bitter sweet moment difficult to explain and more difficult for non-hunters to understand.
I climbed down and walked over to the brush pile the owner was burning, out by the cow pound. We got on his ATV and went back to my stand. Part of the ritual is telling the story: when did I get there, how many deer did I see, where did they come from, where was the deer standing when I shot, where did it go. Then the dragging to Maple Street so we could bring the tractor down to take her back to the shed, after I field dressed her. Hung her from the rafters in the shed, where hundreds of other deer have hung in years past.
I drove home to have supper. My daughter and grand daughter are spending the night and I wanted a chance to say hi to them before going back to the shed. The deer was already cool on the inside, which was exposed to the air. However, I had to skin her so the rest would cool down tonight. I used a hand make knife to skin her, which was given as a gift to me by a friend I’ve known over 40 years.
Using the knife began the thought process about the connectedness of friends, who also happen to both be hunters, and how our participation continues the ritual started thousands of years ago.