One that didn't get away

It is sometimes hard to be enthusiastic about the outdoors when faced with failure, hardship and discouragement. However, after years of experience, you eventually learn that those difficult times are a basic ingredient of life, like the meat in a broth. When spice is added in the form of triumph, it takes a mundane stock and turns it into something sublime.

So it is, this deer season for Yours Truly. Fate has again been pointed out that success is all that much sweeter because of those times when you have dragged in the door, wondering about your sanity for spending all the time, energy and money in chasing animals around the countryside. It is cliché but true: the failure defines the success.

Deer season has been wonderful, at least for the humble expectations of this correspondent. I make no bones about the fact that my primary hunting motivation lies in having a freezer full of toothsome venison. As my burgeoning waistline and clamoring family will attest, venison is one of our favorite foods year-around. Giant racks are nice, but in my view, a good hunting story told to friends over a pot of venison chili and a beer is the ultimate satisfaction of deer hunting.

The opening day of gun season last week was the third in row when venison was taken home. This year, the deer in question was a doe, a very smallish doe, but the stalk made the hunt one of the finest trophies in my mental scrapbook.

My partner Ken had left his stand early due to cold. As I saw him materialize in the distance, slowly stalking toward my stand, I silently cursed because there was over 45 minutes of legal shooting time left. As he moved closer I was resigned that my opening day was finished.

Suddenly he froze in place and slowly reached for his binoculars. It only took a second to realize that deer were grazing in the picked cornfield at my back and I slowly turned around to see several deer through intervening weeds.

Faced with 40 yards to the corn with no openings in the thick vegetation and trees lining the edge of the field, I slid onto my stomach and made the best stalk of my life. Once at the field edge I was somewhat disappointed that the closest deer turned out to be a doe but after she had been dispatched with a single chipshot at 50 yards, I was still shaking from the exertion. In my opinion sneaking up on that deer was perhaps the finest hunting feat ever performed- at least in that nameless field, on that ordinary day.

In the meantime, a friend called during the hunt and graciously offered a buck that he had taken on his license that morning. As his family didn’t care much for deer meat, he said that I could have the carcass provided he kept the beautiful eight-point rack for a skull mount. Thus, at the end of opening day, I owned almost 300 pounds of deer.

The next day, my wife wasn’t sure of the wisdom in continuing to hunt when we were already awash with venison. Agreeing but not wanting to hang up the gun, I assured her that I would be highly selective and only take only a “good” deer. Given my typical luck I wasn’t especially concerned about this promise. The next afternoon hunt saw no deer, though the pressure was off and each trip was now just a pleasant excuse to while away a day in the woods.

The subsequent hunt on Wednesday was almost anti-climactic: a nice eight-pointer came moseying along on the beautiful afternoon and was quickly taken, running only about 20 yards after the shot. I stood over my second deer in four days, again shaking and trying to call my friend on the cellular phone to boast a little and find an outlet for my overabundant happiness.

As this is written, the deer season is quite shy of a week old and the freezer is already stuffed to the gills with prime venison as more waits at the meat cutter. The feeling of contentment and complete satisfaction is something that mere words cannot describe.

I struggled over this column while trying to decide if it was plain bragging about something that is ultimately a random event but I decided that outdoor writing should cover the all of the experience, the high and the low points. Right now I am riding high and feel like bragging just a little bit.

There is an important point I can attest to that makes this discussion relevant: the successes really do make all the failure worthwhile. Try to remember that when you come home empty-handed tomorrow.

It is only one day in a long hunt.

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