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…I opted to spend some time out in the woods:

After 11 hunting seasons spent in the woods, all that practice and preparation and anticipation and frusteration finally paid off! Of course it helps, as shuttle astronaut Mike Mullane put it, to be in a “target-rich environment”! In this case, a friend from work was gracious (or sympathetic? or both?) enough to welcome me to his nothing-less-than-spectacularly-beautiful property for an opening-morning hunt.

After my alarm went off at 4:30, the morning started with a rush of adrenaline: after an extensive tour of the property on Friday, I navigated myself to the trail that led to the treestand I’d be inhabiting, but couldn’t find the stand for anything. It took almost 45 minutes, complete with extensive crashing through the brush and cursing, to eventually locate the stand as the Eastern sky got progressively lighter. After getting situated, that adrenaline burst lasted right up to about 7:30 – when my eyes started to droop and the bitterness of discouragement began to seep in through the cracks in my enthusiasm.

All around me, hunters were shooting – I easily heard 20 shots in the neighboring properties, some close, some distant. All were pointed at deer – deer that were not anywhere near me.

As it turned out, there happened to be a few closer than I realized. Moments before 8 o’clock, my eyes snapped to a patch of white, moving along the edge of the adjacent corn field. It was a 4-point buck, casually making his way toward two other members of our group. While he was too far away to shoot, I watched his movement and felt my hope that “this might be the year” re-inflate. After a few more minutes, that wish came true as I heard the sound of movement behind my tree.

I turned slowly to find 6 does making their way uphill toward me, just slightly to the side of my downwind angle. Please, wind, don’t shift! They shuffled through the woods to my left – perfect! – and emerged from behind some thick bushes. Breathe in. Let it out slow. Squeeeeeeeze. The shot echoed through the woods as the doe jumped and ran a few steps. Amazingly, the others didn’t scatter!

Knowing I had two doe permits for this area – and not knowing if I’d get an opportunity like this again this season – I yanked the release on my Contender. Shaking uncontrollably, I pulled the spent shell from the chamber and fished in my pocket for a second – while the 5 remaining does munched nearby. I pulled the hammer back once the new shell was loaded, and pulled up to aim. It was hard to steady the crosshairs as the next opportunity presented itself, but a few deep breaths later they came to rest; the second doe fell where she stood.

I’ll spare you the following details, considering that this highly-sanitzed term “field dressing” had to be one of the most revolting experiences I’ve ever had … but in the end it was worth it. Dad came out to see the day’s take, and take some photos, and (with a lot of help) we eventually got the two dressed deer to the butcher. In a few days, they’ll be in our freezer – bring on the venison recipes!