I woke up at 4:55am on Saturday. Since it was the opening morning of deer season this didn't bother me in the least. I didn't even take a cup of coffee. I spent a few minutes discussing our ambush plans with my Uncle Jerry, my Cousin Joe, Jerry's son, Joe's friend Stephon and my other Cousins Paul and Carl. Then quickly dressed and quietly headed out the the tree which would be only friend for the next few hours. Over the road and up a hill through an abandoned cow pasture. I started to overheat as my bulky clothes were for the hours of motionless waiting and not for the ten minute walk leading up to it. Then I tucked myself just inside the tree line, looking down into the woods. The wind was helping me out this morning. It came from my right and drifted off to my left. I imagined a deer doing the same and advancing into my best shooting lane. I was the first one in position as the black sky slowly gave way to grey clouds.
My isolated position gave me no views of other hunters and I settled in. Two uneventful and cold hours passed and I was not yet bored. I had a great deal to think about and every rustle of the leaves made my heart jump and my ears ring, straining to hear. "Just a squirrel. No. Two squirrels. Huh. Looks like they know each other. Uh oh. Getting a little feisty. Up into a tree. Wait a second. No. Not feisty. Friendly. A boy squirrel and a girl squirrel. Looks like love is in the air this morning." Embarrassed for them I look away. Then turning up the magnification of my rifle scope I contemplated the physics of making love on the side of a tree while watching the practical application in the cross-hairs.
One. Two. Three... shots rings out near by. It has to be one of our group. At about 9:34 another hunter strolls by on the other side of the fence to my right. I don't think he saw me. I waited to ensure his thunderous footsteps don't spook a deer into my trap. Nothing. The wind is changing and he just walked into the spot where the deer should be coming from so I battled the heat once more on my walk back to the house.
As Stephon sees me he also begins to walk back in. I don't know what to make of him. Last year both He and his brother Leif hunted with us. Its already a season that lives in legend. I woke up one morning and found Leif, wearing overalls without a shirt, face down on the floor of the kitchen. Joe, Leif, and Stephon had gone out the night before so I checked to make sure Leif was breathing then went quietly about my morning business. When my Uncle Jerry appeared I used sign language. "Look here." My finger points. "Its surprising and funny." Say my eyes. Jerry comes around the corner of the counter. His eyes are not surprised and I think it was too early to be amused. "I dont know." Say his upturned palms. "I dont know either." Mine reply. He makes his coffee and I return to my cereal. At noon everybody is talking about it and it is funny. No fewer than five people pause, check his vital signs, and go about their morning routine. He stayed there in the kitchen until ten o'clock. He even woke up, turned his head, and returned to sleeping on the cold linoleum.
There are times that I wonder if Stephon isn't half retarded and others when the things he says cause me to stop and wonder if he is, in fact, a genius. If I were to require my appendix removed tomorrow and Stephon came in and told me that he was the surgeon, I might believe him but there's no way I would trust him. This morning is no different. "Nothing?" My uncle Jerry poses the question. I shake my head. "I hit one. Joe is out on the blood trail." "You shot three times?" I ask. "Yeah." Stephon had a shorter walk, I turn to him. "Anything?" "I saw five does." Its a revelation to me. I had already solved the mystery of the three shots and he was quite near to me throughout the morning. In Pittsville we hunt deer. We hunt deer for the meat and we hunt deer to hunt deer. We don't pass up shots. We shoot at any deer big or small. "Im going to take The Buck and find Joe." Calls my uncle Jerry as he mounts the Four-wheeler and drives off slowly. "You guys watch this field in case we kick anything out."
"Where were they?" I ask Stephon. "The came out on the other side of the road and cut diagonally across the field." He says gesturing to the other side of the road where we had spent the morning. I wonder why I didn't hear anything from the deer. They should have been pretty close to me in the woods. To me it looks like he should have had a shot. I envision 5 deer tearing across the field at break neck pace. Bouncing high into the air every so often to avoid giving Stephon the opportunity he needs. I blame myself. I should have heard or seen the deer once then entered into the trees. "I probably should have shot one. I had it in the scope but I didn't pull the trigger." Good. He blames himself too. In my head I pardon him. A running deer is very hard to hit and maybe he thinks his shots would ruin any chance that I had for a better shot. We've all missed deer before. From what he says they were heading in my direction. "When did they come out?" I want to make sure I dont remember anything out of the ordinary in that time frame. "Forty-five minutes after I got to my spot maybe. First one came out of the woods and crossed the field. I think it saw me. Then maybe ten minutes later two more came running out of the woods. And half-an-hour after that two came from the opposite direction and went back into the woods over here. Jerry shot at the ones coming back." It now seems to me that Stephon probably had only seen three individual deer. The spot the entered the woods is the only good bedding for a mile of open fields and any deer in there would be directly in my wind. I imagine two deer becoming wary of my sent and returning the way they came. Jerry comes rolling up on the four wheeler again. "What did Joe say?" "I didn't see Joe." replies a surprised Jerry. Then motors off again. We cover the field in silence until Joe gives up on the wounded deer and comes back in. My other cousins, Paul and Carl walk up with him. "We lost the trial out in the swamp. It definitely got to Christiansen's land." He explains. Then he returns to Stephon's tale. "Where did they come out?" Its mid-morning and now we have time to get all the details before we plan the mid-day's actions. "I probably should have shot one. They came out at the back of the woods." Now pointing to a spot on this side of the road. "Then they went diagonally across the field and went into the trees between those two birches." The spot is perhaps two hundred yards of heavily wooded dry creek bottom from where I was stationed. Again I am annoyed by the fact that I hadn't seen or heard them but now not so surprised. "And how many were there?" Every detail must be recorded and analyzed. "Well first one came out and went diagonally across the field. It stopped and looked at me. I had it in the scope but I didn't pull the trigger. Then it put its head down and ran to the woods. Ten minutes later two more came out and ran across the field to the same spot. And later two came from the opposite direction and went back into this woods. Jerry shot at the last two." WHAT?!? A deer stopped and looked at him. He had it in the scope. And he didn't pull the trigger. I announce my theory rather than dwell on this. "I think that those two must have come back from the creek bed. The wind was coming this way all morning." "Yeah the wind." Agrees Jerry nodding and pointing the direction the wind had been heading. My theory is not opposed. Soon it will be fact. Joe wants to know how far away the deer was from Stephon. "I think about thirty yards." This detail brings a small laugh from Joe, smiles from Paul and Carl, and raised eyebrows from me. This is almost too much. He was aiming at a standing deer thirty yards away and didn't shoot. Stephon and Joe head off and Paul, Carl and I try to understand what just happened. You wake up before sunrise and sit for hours in the freezing cold. Then a deer stands thirty yards from you and you watch it in the scope. But you don't shoot. "Why even tell that story?" I ask. "When someone asks you if you've seen anything. Just say no. Or maybe that they were running and you couldn't get a good shot."
We go to my Grandma's to eat venison chili and talk. Paul pours milk on Joe's hand while aiming for his glass. "Can you remind me why we let you carry a gun?" I joke. "I mean you can't his a glass a foot away with milk." Paul smiles and tries to explain. After a few moments the conversation drifts back to Stephon. Its getting funnier by the minute. "Next time. Shoot the deer." Joe concludes. Its time to head back out.
