The Last Day

The last day of my 2010 deer season began like all the others: Up at 4 AM, light the lantern, stoke up the woood stove, turn on the coffee pot, fill the wash basin with water and set it on the stove. Then I lay out my clothes and by then my wash water is hot, so I wash up and get dressed. By then the coffee is getting close to being done and I start the water boiling for the oatmeal and hot cocoa that will go in the thermos. I pour myself a half cup of coffee and on this morning, allow myself the luxury of sitting in my favorite (camp) chair next to the wood stove and savoring that first (half) cup. By now my hunting partner is starting to stir and I remark to him that life couldn't get any better, sitting in a comfortable chair next to a wood stove with a pot of camp coffee within easy reach. Can't get too comfy though, and soon I resume the routine of preparing and eating breakfast (instant oatmeal and a bagel toasted in a cast iron skillet on the wood stove), putting on more layers of clothes, loading the days snacks in the pack, putting on the heavy boots, checking my rifle, etc. By now I am starting to watch the clock and moving with a sense of urgency. I want to be on my way by 5:30, which gives me only about an hour to get to my stand. The stand I am going to this morning is about 3 miles east of camp, so I begin with a (cold!) ride on my ATV. It is still pitch black when I take the Blue Ribbon Trail for a half mile through cedar swamps, balsam blowdowns, aspen regen, and old clear cuts to reach my stand. I begin my hike at a fast pace, but slow down and move as quiet as I can as I approach the stand. In spite of my efforts, I hear a deer run off, just as I reach the base of the tree and dissapointment fills my mind. I may have just ruined any chance I had at seeing a deer today. Undaunted, I dutifully climb the 20 feet up the old cedar tree to my deer stand as the stars are just winking out. I check my watch and it is still 15 minutes before shooting light. Perfect! I settle in and begin my vigil. It is an exceptionally still morning, with a temperature of about 30 degrees, so I am relatively comfortable. I sit as still as possible with my rifle in my lap, moving nothing but my eyes as I begin scanning the area in front of me for any signs of a deer. The sky is overcast, so dawn comes slowly. No picture perfect sunrise on this morning. Just a slow and gradual increase in the amount of available light. An hour passes before I steal a glance at my watch and I am surprised to see that it is 7:15 and the sun has been up for 15 minutes already. Prime time for deer movements. However, the woods is silent, except for the ocaissional nuthatch and chickadee. As I focus on the woods around me and the task at hand (spotting a deer), I settle into a nearly meditative state. My heart rate slows, my mind empties, and the longer I sit there silently looking for a deer, the more I feel like a predator. Time and discomfort no longer matters to me. I just sit there, much like a mountain lion or an eagle, perched up high for a good view, waiting for its prey. Two hours later, I hear a branch break. It's a loud crack; too loud to be made by a squirrel or a grouse. I turn my head in the direction of the sound. About 10 minutes later, a deer steps into view. I immediately check for horns and don't see any. Still, I have been fooled before, so I wait until the deer's head goes behind a tree and slowly stand up in my stand and turn to face the deer. He must have heard something, for he stops and looks up, searching for the source of the noise or movement. Or maybe it was just his sixth sense warning him that danger was close at hand. I freeze (I have played this game before) and eventually he resumes his walk across the opening. He is angling towards me now and when he gets closer I see he has small antlers, barely bigger than his ears. I slowly raise my rifle and begin tracking his movements through my scope. I can see he will pass through an opening about 20 yards from my tree if he continues on his present course. Luck is with me today and he does, totally unaware of my presence nearby. I quietly slip the safety off and settle my cheek on the stock of my 6.5x55 Swedish Mauser. It's a military surplus rifle, with original stock, made during World War 2. How many times have other cheeks settled on that stock and what was their target? No matter now, the deer is getting closer. My finger moves to the trigger and as he steps into the clear and I settle the cross hairs of my scope on his front shoulder. It's an easy shot, one I have made many times before. But I hesitate. A few more steps and the young buck is in the safety of the cedars, where he is no doubt headed to bed down for the day. I slowly lower the rifle and take a few deep breaths to calm my heart rate. Close encounters with a deer always produce a shot of adrenaline. The pressure is off now, so I sit back down and reach for my thermos. It is 09:30 and I've been sitting motionless for over 3 hours. It feels good to move around a bit. It also feels good to have let this deer walk by on this day. I won the match; I didn't have to pull the trigger to prove it to myself, my opponent, or anyone else. On another day or under a different set of circumstances I would have killed that deer in a heartbeat and been glad for the opportunity. But not on this day, the last day of my 2010 deer hunting season.