One man's boring is another man's holy holiday. I think there was an auntie's boy who wrote a whole book about hanging out with one's self and how great it was isolated and surrounded by nature--named it after a lake, pond really. He was a tax-evader like me so I like him in spite of his Harvard degree. But I digress.
The whole idea of stand hunting is to sit on your ass and to see and not be seen. Yes, sitting. The activity itself doesn't inspire many thoughts of gallant hunts like American Indians did on horseback back in the day. Oh sure, you can try to stalk and hunt, but they'll see you way before you see them, and all you'll see is a white tail friskily waving good-bye.
So you sit, but, it can be fun. In the dark you can hear, but not yet see, these little wrens that are flying around you, digging in leaves around you, and landing on unnamed weed stalks or tree branches, two feet from your face. When the sky brightens, you can make them out doing their little his-master's-voice dog-head tilt as they scope you out with each eye. They ponder your bulk and wait for you to move, proving your mal-intent to them before they flit away.
I take binoculars so I can see stuff that's far away. Because of this, I can tell the difference between a clump of leaves and a deer. I can also see deer weaving in and out of trees, weeds, and cornstalks that I would never see without the glass. Counting antler points is a good idea too if you're told not to blast younger bucks who haven't wasted all that nutrition on showing off for the ladies...yet. When you're a guest on someones land, it's best to do what you're told if'n you want to come back.
When you hear someone else shoot off in the distance, you wait for the follow-up shot. When you hear more shots, it means the other hunter is either a doofus and a worthless shot, or he's laying them down like cord wood. I've shot two at a time before, but only because A: I didn't want to leave an orphan, and B: I thought I had inadvertently wounded a doe's companion with a through and through shot. I hadn't, but I saw a tuft of hair raised on her back, and just thought I had.
okay yes, it's boring. So you look through the binocs, you look at the hawks flying around doing the same thing you're doing only with the benefit of flight. You watch them circle low, drop in, and sometimes fly off with a rat and sometimes they don't. Once I saw a bald eagle at Kerr Lake flying around doing bald eagle stuff. This year I saw an immature bald eagle eyeing me as I relieved myself in the reservoir. He was unimpressed, but it was cold outside.
Wait long enough, and you'll be rewarded with the heart-pounding thrill of seeing a shootable deer, boy or girl, moseying right towards you. Early in the season, they'll glance up to the stand, and if you hold still, they won't see you. Late in the season they'll stand and stare, daring you to move so they can bolt. It's the curse of the fixed stand--like I said, when you're a guest, you do, and sit where you're told.
Anyway, this big animal, whether alone or in a crowd, heads right for you, and you put down the twins and grab the rifle to your shoulder. The ten power binoculars made it possible to see your animal up close and size him up, and now, your rifle scope makes it possible to see him as a target, as a marked shoulder on the hoof. That's where you want to shoot them, where they "live".
I myself am on a five year run of one shot kills. That builds confidence, and confidence puts meat on the table. Sing all you want too about whiz bang rifles and their whiz bang cartridges and three hundred yard shots, but the furthest I've shot a deer was one hundred and six yards. I have no compunction to stop me from putting a round into a deer's vitals.
After shooting, however, you stay put if it's still early. Another "herd" might mosey through, stepping over their fallen comrade on their way to bed. You just don't know, so you stay put and wait some more. And as the sun gets higher, and the air gets warmer, and you stop seeing deer wandering around, you pull out the blackberry and tell the whole world what you think about your belly-button.
I may never describe what it's like to peel a deer open and see what makes them tick. It's not that I think you can't handle it, it's just that it's indelicate, and pretty gross and smells like poop. Suffice it to say, "the funs over as soon as the smoke clears."
-rbm
No comments:
Post a Comment