The Rites of Autumn

The forecast for opening day of the Pennsylvania whitetail deer season was not good: near-100% chance of rain and temperature in the 50s. There were four of us for the morning hunt, and since Dom III was here, I was not in my usual stand (since it is his stand). Instead, I ended up in the “penthouse,” a tall tree house next to a pine with good command over the furthest field that slopes down to the bottom.. It ended up being a great place to be, since it had a roof. I was in by 6:10, an hour before sunrise. I kicked back in a nice resin patio chair with a cup of black coffee. This was not bad at all. It was warm — I never did zip my jacket up — plenty of room to spread, and the patter of rain on the tin roof. Quite luxurious hunting accommodations.

I followed my usual routine: when it was light enough to see the breech and bolt on my rifle, I snapped in the clip. When it was light enough to see a bit into the field, I chambered a round and checked the safety. Dawn was steely grey with just a light rain.

Before long, from above me out of the treeline where my stand was, a nice-size deer walked into the field. I could see even from 100 yards or so that it was a buck, a glint of white marking the curve of its antlers, though they were none too big for a pretty much full-sized deer, probably a two- or three-year old. He was headed straight across the field to Dom III’s stand (where I so often hunted) and he made either me or Dom and broke into a trot, curving around in front of me toward the sugar road that leads into the bottom. I struggled to frame him in my scope — with my eye first too close and then too far from the reticule — and finally he was in the crosshairs, but he was moving and my position was not all that stable. He paused and turned just before melting into the woods. I shot without much hope of hitting him, and indeed I missed completely.

Another cup of coffee, more rain on and off. A group of five does come in from the same spot as the buck and headed straight across the field, through a little hedgerow and into the oat field in front of Dom’s stand. I watched them curve around and pass right in front of him. He didn’t shoot. I texted him and as I guessed, he was waiting for a buck. Isn’t it odd, these modern-day hunters texting each other from their treetop perches?

More time passing, more rain on and off, and sometime around 8:30 I heard rustling in the leaves to my left, and turned to watch three does come out of the woods into the field. I positioned myself and put the crosshairs on the largest one and tracked her as she took a few steps, turned this way and that, then took a few more steps and turned broadside. I breathed halfway in and squeezed the trigger. They all jumped and she bolted about 20 yards and crashed. A prayer for forgiveness and a prayer of thanksgiving. We will cherish many meals of this gift from heaven.

The evening was somewhat clearer, though still spitting rain off and on, and still warm. This time I was in Dom’s stand; he had gone to my ladder stand just inside the woods at the base of the mountain. I watched two deer come out of the treeline where he was. One went back into the woods at the corner of the field, then came out below me by the pond. He browsed on some twigs, then wandered up and under my stand and then in front of me. He was a little spike buck with two tiny prongs; you would not have been able to tell if he had not been so close. I could have shot him with my bow. He browsed around in the oat field for ten minutes or so, then wandered down to the bottom field, where Dom II shot him.

Dom III and Stevie each also took a deer. It was a long and productive day.

We took two of them over to Pocahontas to a part-time butcher who works with Dom. It was a windy, hilly ride on back roads, and nice to get a bit of time to spend with Dom, catching up.

Back home last night, there was thunder and lightening and the wind really kicked up. This morning, it was hard to go out. The temperature was down in the 30s and the wind was hard. But we went anyhow; back to the penthouse for me. It was cold but not unbearable. The dawn was foggy and dark and the wind was unrelenting. I heard some turkeys and crows and that was it. Three shots in the distance. The only thing stupid enough to be out in this weather was hunters.

It’s sleeting and snowing off and on now, nothing much to speak of, and the wind seems to have died down, but just a bit. All the visiting hunters are gone save me. Hopefully Dom will go out with me when he gets home from work, and I’ll see if I can fill my buck tag.