The alarm went off early Friday morning. My shuffling around in the dark must have woke Jill up for a second because she was lucid enough to ask me if I was ‘going to go shoot an anniversary buck?’ We were married seven years ago on this day, and with the ever fleeting opportunities to get a buck, "yes", that was the idea. This was a good blessing, I thought, as usually her semiconscious murmurings are a strain of yiddish understood only by Charlie Brown's homeroom teacher.
In December I often look at the calendar and see a disbursement of events throughout the month that, while very nice, consume hunting opportunities the way sea monsters on ancient maps devour three masted vessels. It was already the eleventh. If I was to get another deer I would have to make time to hunt as it was no longer readily available. Morning hunts looked like the way to approach this.
Standing at the truck getting ready for an evening hunt in November I looked up in time to see a buck cross the power line easement several hundred yards away. This was a good deer. He was very far, and it was only a glimpse, but these few seconds would be like the seed from which the beanstalk grew. My imagination became engulfed by this buck the way briar gobbles up broken farm equipment at the edge of the field. Texas has a doe and spike season, but I was fixated on this deer as it would certainly be my best traditional buck. Now, well before first light, it was very dark, and I was waiting for him.
I had a handful of hunts since seeing this good buck, but no encounters with him while in the tree. This season has been rich with excitement, however. I shared with you my November buck. To hunt was a blessing enough. There is an abundance of terrific looking young deer; many nice young bucks filling seasons ahead with promise. A few pigs have been nosing around, but it seems rifle season has them on a more cautious footing. I did have a couple nice young boars come by a few weeks ago, and connected with the slightly smaller of the two that gave me the best look. There will be tamales for Christmas…
Stars melted away into the greying sky and I could see deer moving through the woods. Pacing forward quickly, cutting back, a low grunt, then a stir of leaves and they’re headed the other direction again. Maybe a couple of teenagers, hard to tell at this point. Levitating blobs like mercury rolling around a table in an otherwise still morning prior to color. The wind is picking up a bit carrying in the new day. The feathers on my arrow were not yet orange, but we’re spinning towards the sun when I say to myself “there’s my guy!” I’m in a bit of disbelief, but this is the deer. They’re close now, this is the one, but it’s challenging yet to pick my spot. A few minutes further in to the hunt there would be adequate light. I prayed “God give me the patience to do this right.” Wounding the deer would be a crushing burden. Then there was his elbow, behind that, the heart of the beast and a gravity all its own like an egg in a nest. That was all I needed.
The arrow snapped the rib on entry in that wonderful sound so similar to opening a cold Big Red. He vanished in to thick brush and other than hearing a tremendous few moments of racket I got no further hint of where he was going. I felt good about this. It was five minutes till seven. Now, what to do for the next half hour? I climbed further up the tree in an attempt to see my deer. I saw an animal, but only a squirrel in the neighboring tree looking as if it might check me in to the nut house, if it had such authority. I decided I could get out quietly, away from where I believed the deer to be, with thick winter grass underfoot. I had a thermos of hot coffee in the truck; a lot of otherwise intolerable things are possible if you have coffee. I got to the dirt road when I realized this was probably the pace at which neighborhood women power-walk, I slowed down for no other reason than to not power-walk. I looked west away from the now rising sun and there in our bottom hay field was my buck! I thanked God for this exhilarating hunt, truly a great day in the morning. He ran straight north until nothing was left. A very admirable way to go.
Topic: The Anniversary Buck! (Read 924 times)
