Our 2009 buck

With a mixture of relief, wistfulness and satisfaction, the main portion of the deer season is now over for the majority of Indiana hunters as the muzzle-loader season concluded yesterday evening. (Note: late archery season continues until January 3)

And, much like a cheesy sports movie, I pulled off an upset at the buzzer.

Yesterday morning was my final opportunity for hunting.  Due to a family Christmas commitment, there would be no afternoon hunt.   Thus, Sunday morning was the do-or-die time for Yours Truly.  I had already taken a fairly nice doe earlier in shotgun season so there was meat in the freezer.  However, like all hunters, I wanted that elusive buck.

The last Saturday afternoon hunt was interesting because of the heavy snowfall that occurred while we were in the field.  Due to a mistake made during the “I’m late, I’m late for a very important date”-rush out the door, Igrabbed the wrong hunting coat.

Bundled up in insulated pants, stocking cap, heavy mittens and a thin canvas coat, I wasn’t sure I’d survive the two hours of cold.  Fortunately, my powers of precognition are accurate and certain portions of my anatomy began to freeze solid around 5 p.m.

I sent a text message to my hunting partner Ken that I was on the verge of becoming a writer-cicle and would now begin stalking back to the truck.   It was assumed that he would try to find my lifeless corpse in the woods if there was no one at the vehicle when he got there.

It worked out that Ken actually arrived back at the truck before me.   I could see his orange hat near the vehicle from across the field in the fading light and heavy snowfall.  Just then my phone vibrated in my pocket.  I checked it and there was one message: “DEER.”

To shorten the story, suffice it to say that we spent several frozen hours in the field, walking and then sitting like lumps of dough in a freezer while enduring the endless agony of prolonged motionlessness. Meanwhile, nine deer in including a nice buck had been feeding around our truck.

We hunkered in an overgrown fence row to watch the group feed off across the field.  It was too late, too far and too snowy to intercept them as they headed for a tiny 1-acre woodlot that we never hunted on the north border of our property.   “Maybe tomorrow,” we both said while walking dejectedly back to the truck.

The next morning, we again endured cold, snow and wind for the opportunity to sit and watch an empty frozen cornfield.  Finally, as our hunting deadline was nearing expiration, Ken sent a text message that he was walking toward the tiny woods.

On the drive that morning, we had cooked up a plan where Ken would stalk over to the woodlot by walking the northern perimeter of our hunting area, while I would sneak back and set up near our truck.  The idea was that any of the deer that had remained in the woods overnight would either offer Ken a shot or possibly run back towards our truck and offer me a chance.  It was a great plan and I was absolutely convinced that it was pointless.

Deer, after all, tend to move a great deal in the dark in spite of rotten weather conditions.  So, the few (if any) deer that might have remained in that woods would have about 357 points of the compass in which to flee.   Ken and I would be waiting on the other two; considering the options, our plan seemed more hopeless than hopeful.

Regardless, I dutifully assumed my sniper position over a log and glassed the pocket woodland through my rifle scope.  It seemed a long way off across a frozen field.  My own buttocks had frozen to the ground and were growing colder and wetter by the moment as the snow underneath melted.  My body was in position but my mind was wandering a warm beach in Mexico.

After I sat a few moments, idly fantasizing about senoritas and margaritas, my phone buzzed.   Checking it, I found something interesting: “I just jumped a buck.”

Dang!  I didn’t see the deer as he had undoubtedly slipped off in another direction.

Hmmmm….that looks like…..a…..DEER!! THERE’S A BUCK RUNNING DOWN THE FENCE LINE TOWARDS ME!!!

I watched the deer gallop through my scope.  He was headed in my general direction but I knew he would sheer off in one of the other possible escape routes.  Until…..
OHMYGOSH, HE’S RUNNING RIGHT AT ME!!!!

Through the scope, I could see the deer had turned and was charging directly towards me.  For 100 yards, I watched in utter amazement as the buck ran as if he intended to leap the log I was hiding behind.  As time seemed to slow, I could see the dark brown rack that stuck out beyond his ears and the puffs of snow his hoofs created as he charged towards me.  Most of all, I saw my crosshairs settled steadily on his chest.

WAIT…WAIT…LET HIM GET A LITTLE CLOSER….WAIT…..

Several times I almost pulled the trigger but decided to hold off as the deer grew closer.  The view through that scope will be forever burned into my mind as a heavy buck charged through the snow in a picture-perfect tableau that could have graced the cover of any glossy magazine.

Suddenly the buck stopped only 40 yards from me.  I sensed that he had seen me and would suddenly changed directions, leaving me with no shot.  It was now or never.

WHAT HE DOING???  HE’S WATCHING KEN!!!

As it turned out, the deer had simply run far enough from the woods and wanted to see where the weird orange-capped human who jumped him had gone.  He stood broadside, picture-perfect, with my crosshairs on his shoulder.

The shot blotted out the sight picture for a moment and I looked up.  The deer staggered for a moment then began a stiff-legged run with his head and tail both down.  I had seen this many times before and knew the outcome.

After 20 yards, his front legs collapsed, causing his antlers to catch the mud underneath the snow and somersault him to a stop near the treeline.  He was motionless.  I didn’t even bother to reload my rifle as I walked up.

It was a “decent” six-pointer with a fairly heavy body.  The rack had seemed bigger in those quick seconds in the scope but on our arbitrary deer scale I would still have considered him a “shooter” if not a “wall-hanger.”  All in all, I’m filled with a satisfaction you can only get in a few certain ways, none of which are easy.

On this day, in the snow, in the literal last minutes of my 2009 deer season, we had hatched a plan and it worked.  We had outwitted a wise buck as a team and experienced yet another of those sublime moments in the field that keep us coming back each season.

Once again, I’ve already been given one of the greatest Christmas gifts we can dare to expect.

Bookmark It

Hide Sites