Three Deer Day

It was a good morning for Dom and I — three deer down. Another unseasonably warm day, but nice and overcast. Dom hunted behind the house, and I in the usual spot by the lower pond. I had deer on the ground and Dom had hit one but not recovered it yet. He came down and got me and we went to find or flush the little doe he had shot. We walked through the high brush, about 30 yards apart; I was closest to the big field below the house. Dom called that he found it, but it jumped up and started off. I saw it jump and head toward the fence, and figured it would probably head back toward the mountain. I was by a fence post, standing, and braced myself against it. I shouldered my rifle and looked through the scope, but everything was too close, so I dialed it back. I found the doe, angling at a run (not a sprint, just a run) and tracked her for a few strides then fired. She crumpled on the spot. So go figure — I manage to hit a running doe at 75+ yards, standing braced against a fence post, but yesterday morning, I couldn’t hit a buck at 30-40 yards, standing still, me sitting with my rifle resting on a railing. I would say today’s shot was a lot of luck, though I don’t really believe in luck. Anyhow, we were glad we got that deer, and I had a 6-point as well.

Dom had a job interview this afternoon, so I borrowed his truck and took one of the deer in to the butcher in town. The other two, I skinned and quartered and put in the fridge. Two deer — one, one of the bigger ones I’ve shot, and the other a little tender one — and barely filled two shelves in the refrigerator. Tomorrow we’ll cut them up for the freezer.

It’s been a physically demanding couple of days, and I am sadly feeling my age. Yesterday I helped Dom and Kenny load hay on a trailer. After 80 bales or so, the dust totally got to me; my throat started closing up and my voice got real high. I quit and came down to the house and took an antihistamine and drank a bunch of water. Since then, I’ve gotten winded quickly with just the slightest exertion.

It doesn’t help that I’m way overdressed. I knew it was going to be warm, but this is ridiculous! I didn’t pack any of my lightweight hunting clothes. The only blaze orange I brought to wear was my winter coat and bibs. I could go without the bibs, but I really had to wear the coat, including when I was field-dressing the deer. Ugh!

Didn’t see a thing tonight. It was a beautiful night, though, warm, completely still, with a sky completely covered with wispy, puffy, floating clouds.

Tomorrow morning will be the last PA hunt for me this year (more than likely), then chores, then back to Uniontown.

The Buck Doesn't Stop Here!

Saturday I shot a doe in Maryland in the morning. Today was opening day in Pennsylvania. I was ready to shoot buck or doe, as I have expensive tags to fill, and didn’t shoot anything in Pennsylvania last year. Early, about 6:40 a.m., I had a deer come across the field in front of me, casually grazing and walking in the grass. I couldn’t tell what it was, other than an adult deer. I thought it was a doe, and was getting ready to shoot, but then I saw a glint of antler. Damn! I had to figure out if it had 3 points on one side, the legal minimum now in PA. It kept moving along, slowly, then went through the fence and that was when I could tell it had a nice basket rack. It was now traveling though, between me and the pond, walking. I got it in the scope, then grunted softly. Didn’t stop. I grunted more loudly and then it did stop. I was a bit too far back on it, so I swung the rifle forward a bit, and squeezed. He took off into the woods and down the hill. I heard him crashing through for what I guess was about 30 yards or so into the woods, and then it was quite again. Awesome, I thought, he’s lying down there waiting for me. I didn’t want to get out of the stand and mess things up for Dom, and I wanted to see what else might come along. A couple little ones came right underneath me, and that was it. About an hour later I got out, went down to where I thought I hit him. Nothing. Went to the woods where he went in, walked back and forth, nothing. Did a grid search in the field, nothing. Not a drop of blood anywhere. Went into the woods, and I could see clearly where he went straight down the hill, stiff-legging it and skidding. Nothing. A clean miss. Damn.

So I took the long way out of the woods, came back up the hill, went back and looked again, still in disbelief. Oh, well. Hooked up with Dom and we started heading back. Near the top of the road, I spied a nice buck heading down into the field at about 75 yards. We couldn’t shoot because he was right in front of the neighbors’ houses. We watched him work down behind a rise — just antlers over the hill, then disappeared — and waited for him to come out the other side of the rise. Meantime, we moved down some, I laid down on the ground and made a shooting rest with my pack. He crossed over and went into the field we call the oat field, even though it hasn’t been planted in oats in some years. It was 350 yards or more, but we each took a couple shots; it was, after all, a really nice buck! No luck, of course. He continued trotting into the woods, right underneath the stand I had been in an hour earlier.

Giving Thanks

I am thankful for all the people I've known, and all the people I will come to know...for the people I thought I knew but didn't know, and that I don't know some people anymore whom I did know...for friends and family and all the friends of Bill.

I am thankful for creatures of all kinds — food and friends, pests and pets. For all things that grow and flower and fruit, I am grateful. For rocks and the dirt they become.

For this roof over my head and my warm bed and full belly.

For prayers heard and prayers answered. For the angels Therese, Michael, Malachi, and Jezebel.

For artists of all types and the misery they bring.

For bifocals.

For rhythm of all kinds — the cadence of words and music, the flow of the seasons, the rhythm of two bodies meeting. For lightness and for darkness. For ebb and flow. For all sorrows and the lessons they bring. For joys that can be shared. For gentleness and the brutality of life and death and all creatures. Most of all for forgiveness. Because of that, I am able to be thankful for everything. No exceptions.

And of course, for you, gentle reader, I am most grateful.

Seen on a church marquee...

"Lord, help me to be the kind of person my dog thinks I am."

Excuse ME!

This is for real, from the 11.6.06 New York Times. Why not just stay home? Or put on a latex glove and slap anyone who gets too close?

The Excuse Me flag is a little yellow banner mounted on a lightweight pole, which is attached to one’s waist so it swings back and forth in front of the wearer during walking. Any other pedestrian who walks too close will be slapped in the face by the pole or the yellow flag, which reads “Excuse Me.”

“It generates a cubic yard of free walking space between you and a sneezer,” Ms Beck, a former New Yorker, said from her home in Delaware. “It makes it so you don’t have to touch anybody or talk to anybody in New York.”