The Good Hunt
by Randy Grider
Working around the shop one November day in deer season, I get the old familiar urge. "This wind ain't too bad, out of the south, thats good." the deer move north at dusk to feed in the alfalfa field above the house. The debate between needed chores, and wanting to hunt was short, lust for the hunt winning hands down. A half hour later finds me starting up my tree and my disgruntled dogs penned at home to prevent they're disruption.
Its hot, unusually hot for november, and i worked up a good sweat rustling dogs, and getting to and up my stand. Its getting late, and that puts me in a hurry to get situated. One of those spur of the moment 'hunt the last hour of light' hunts that i'm lucky enough to be able to do. At least the wind is in the right direction. Feels like a good night. The chicadees flit about, the squirrels are active and gathering, one comes in close, tempting a shot, but venison is much better than squirrel in my book, and not wanting to risk being seen I hold my own.
Just when it is prime time, up blows a gust of north west wind, straight to the bedding area the venison ka-bobs.., er, i mean deer ,are scheduled to approach. Then the dreaded sound of mortified deer clearing they're airways, the sound we've all heard, that means end of hunt.
"Dang it! Stupid wind !"
Grumpily fuming over my misfortune, a missed opportunity at filling the freezer.
Now I sit, just because thats what you're supposed to do, until dark, even though I know my chance is pretty much shot.
The breeze is cool, and chilling on the sweat of my neck. A little stiffer and it loosens the leaves that have dried and clung stubbornly against the inevitable, and they drift in a flurry to the forest floor. The rustling sound,the swirling leaves, the cool refreshing breeze. "this isn't too bad"
Maybe we get too caught up in big buck magazine covers, too think about the awesome bueaty we are exposed to while pursueing this sport? Whats better than looking out over a wooded valley? An open field with deer grazing, even though they are well out of reach? To come across a gurgling creek,huge sycamore sentrys lining the edge? In my limited hunting/ traveling adventures i've seen some of the most beautifull of natures gifts, right here close to home.
My mind wanders, probably too much, to ever think about becomeing any kind of hunting legend.
I've taken my share of meat, but it seems to become less and less important. The away time, the outdoors, drinking in all of natures finest, thats what its all about.
Finding it dark, I prepare for the short walk back to my house. Unbelievable how calm, relaxed, refreshed I feel. The walk is made at a liesurly unhurried pace, that sadly just isn't normal everyday routine. Entering the house my wife is cooking supper and greets me "Hi honey ! did you do any good?"
"Yes " I replied "A very good hunt"
She understands.
Topic: The Good Hunt - by Randy Grider (Read 3055 times)
