Jerry's First Deer, Part 2

If you haven't already, read Part 1. Here's part 2...

My hunting guide (also known as Shelly's dad, Denny) set me up with a great hunting location. It is where two rectangular shaped open fields overlap at one corner. Surrounding the fields are woods. If I have one (small) complaint with this location it's that the best way to get back to it without tromping through the forest and scaring all the deer, is to walk through a cemetery. I don't know if you've ever had occasion to walk through a cemetery while it is still pitch black out, but it can be a bit nerve racking to say the least, even a loaded rifle is of little comfort when making this trek. I was a little surprised to find this really didn't bother me too much this year. Having navigated the cemetery and crossed the field to my spot, I next had to ascend the tree stand. For those of you that are unfamiliar, many hunters use a stand located up off the ground for hunting. There are various styles, but the one that I used is a one man ladder stand consisting of a metal ladder about 16' high or so with a small metal platform with a seat at the top. My guide thoughtfully attached a rope to the stand ahead of time. Before I climb the stand I attach the rifle to the rope. Then after I am at the top, I pull the rifle up to me on the rope, which is the safe way to get your gun up in the tree with you. At this point I get situated in the stand using a vinyl covered cushion for my seat. It's not what I'd call comfortable, but it does the trick. This is when I make the final preparations with the rifle.

The gun I use to hunt is a .30-06 (pronounced thirty-aught-six) with bolt action. This means there is a lever on the side of the rifle that you lift up, then slide back, then forward to load the cartridge so that it is ready to fire. Even those of you not familiar with guns would recognize the distinctive lever design of bolt action. I don't know exactly how old the rifle is, but it has been around for a while and the wood stock has developed the beautiful shine that comes with age. So once I'm finally situated in the tree stand I lift the lever on the side of the rifle then slide it back and then forward, pushing the cartridge forward, and then I push the lever back down. The rifle is now ready to fire. This is where I lay the gun across my lap and take a deep breath. Despite the cold temperatures, I'm usually sweating at this point, even though the trip from Shelly's parents to tree stand only takes about 10 minutes.

Since it's only about 6 AM it's still quite dark at this point. Deer could easily pass through the area undetected since it's very difficult to see. This is the time to just sit and collect your thoughts. It's during this time that anticipation for the hunt increases as the first rays of sunlight begin to unfurl from the east, especially on opening day. This year the weather was exceptionally good with a high temperature around forty degrees, sunshine throughout the day, and very little wind. By the time it was light enough to shoot, I was really excited. I'd say I was on the edge of my seat, but there really isn't that much room in the tree stand.

Since this is for the blog, which acts as a family history, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention a slight blemish on this year's hunt (sorry sweetie!). One of the things I really look forward to while sitting in the tree is taking a break to have a hot cup of coffee out of a thermos that I carry with me in to the woods. If you are going to make it through an entire day, the respite from a hot cup is absolutely essential. This year we all went up to Shelly's parents together as a family and stayed over night. When I got up at around 5:30, Shelly got up as well to wish me goodbye and good luck. She did so as I was heating the water for my thermos of coffee on the stove in her parent's kitchen. Since it was 5:30 she encouraged me not to heat the water so long that the kettle whistled for fear of disturbing her still sleeping parents. I obliged, but the end result was lukewarm coffee that turned out to be worse than no coffee at all. I did manage to choke down two quick cups at some point around 9:00, but they were literally hard to swallow. Buoyed by the good weather, I tried not to dwell on it too much. In the end, it really didn't matter, but even Shelly's dad thought this was just plain wrong (I think he may have said it was a "travesty") and encouraged me to let the kettle scream the next day, which I did.

Despite the lack of coffee I remained alert and awake as the sun rose higher in the sky. Occasionally I would try to guess the time, but since I didn't ever check my guess against the watch I carried in my backpack, I'm not sure what the point of the game was. At a point when I was guessing it was somewhere between 11:00 and 1:00 I just happened to look all the way to my right and I saw a quick flash of movement. Looking more carefully I realized that there were four does crossing the field about 75 yards to my right and they were moving fast. I brought the rifle up to my shoulder, but by the time I located them in the scope they had crossed the field and were on the edge of the woods on the far side. I managed to isolate one, but by the time I collected myself and squeezed the trigger it had moved. The only thing I saw in the scope was the distinctive white tail as it disappeared into the thick woods.

Now on an adrenaline rush, I gathered myself together enough to climb down out of the tree and see if by some stroke of luck I had hit the fleeing deer. I went to the spot where I they had disappeared, but didn't find any sign that I had hit anything with my shot. Looking at my watch for the first time, I saw that it was 12:30. Since I was out of the tree anyway, I took a walk around the edge of the field and then through the woods on a road that runs through a portion of them. Not only did I not find a dead deer, I couldn't find any sign that four deer had just run through these very same woods. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes just a few minutes before, I wouldn't have believed that they had.

Having missed a great opportunity I tried to console myself with a chicken salad sandwich that I had brought along. It was delicious, but I was so keyed up from the excitement I ate it way too fast and got the hiccups. I collected myself and climbed back up in the tree to finish out the afternoon.

Hunting hours ended at around 4:30 and once I got back in the tree I put my watch on my wrist so I could keep track of time. The practical result of this was that every 45 minutes or so I was saying to myself that I sure hoped those weren't the only deer I was going to see. Since they represented the closest I had come to actually shooting a deer in my entire hunting career up to this point, this was a real possibility.

Looking back now, I can clearly remember looking at my watch at 4:00 and thinking well another day is in the books with no kill, oh well, at least the weather was good. That's when I heard the noise. I could tell it wasn't a bird, my long day of listening to bird landings taught me that much, but I couldn't be sure it was a deer either. It was clearly coming from behind a patch of trees that was only about twenty or thirty yards in front of me and to the left. I listened intently, rocking forward in my seat, rifle on my lap. As I had done earlier whenever I thought I might be on the cusp of taking a shot, I removed the bulky glove from my right hand so that I could pull the trigger unencumbered. I heard the sound again a few more times, but then it seemed to trail off. I continued to watch closely, scanning the area in front of me back and forth. That was when I saw them, two does walking slowly from behind that clump of trees.

I realized that what I had heard was the real thing and paused for a moment to assess the situation. While the does weren't very large, I wasn't in any position to be picky. Though they were moving away from me, it was at a very slow pace and at an angle, leaving me a view of much of their broad side. I knew that if I was ever going to shoot a deer, this was going to be my best opportunity.

I brought the rifle up to my shoulder quickly and managed to find the deer that was in front in the scope. Even now she was barely moving. Despite the fact that she was making it easy on me, my hands were trembling. I could hardly hold the rifle level. I remember taking a deep breath and saying to myself that this is what you've been waiting for, just calm down and shoot this deer like you've practiced in your mind a hundred times. I managed to steady my hands and my breathing. I brought the deer into my sights and squeezed the trigger.

The sound a rifle makes when it discharges is incredibly loud, but I honestly can't remember hearing it. After I fired the shot, I looked up from the rifle in the direction of the deer. It was then I knew that I hit it. As I looked out ahead of me it jumped and its legs seemed to flail out in front of it. It immediately began running away from me, up a small hill, where it disappeared at the edge of the woods.

Although I knew I had shot the deer, I wasn't sure how good of a shot it was. At this point it was possible I had only wounded it, I climbed down from the tree and looked at my watch. It was 4:10. I paused a few moments and ate an apple that I had in my backpack. If the deer was only wounded, I didn't want to give chase too soon, only to have my pursuit push the deer further away. I approached the spot where the deer had been when I shot it, and I could easily see a bright red trail of blood in the grass. It was at least six inches wide and it unspooled before me in the direction I had seen the deer run. I followed it only a few yards and the deer came into view, laying on its side at the spot where I had watched it disappear from view a few minutes before.

I approached slowly and carefully and once I was convinced it was dead, proceeded to tag the deer using the tag that I had purchased. For a doe this involves cutting a slit in the ear of the animal and attaching the tag using a piece of string, or in my case a large twisty-tie that Denny had given me. It was at this point that it really sunk in what had just happened. It was clear that the deer wasn't that large, but I still felt a tremendous sense of relief and accomplishment at having completed what I set out to do. Even though it was just a deer, I tried to maintain a somber countenance as I went about the business of tagging. Despite my pride, I could tell gloating over the dead deer just wasn't right.

The plan before I left the house was that when I shot a deer I would walk back to the house and Denny would bring the truck so we could take it home. There we could do the necessary field dressing which would be easier than doing it on the ground. Before I headed back, I took a moment to observe the deer. it had collapsed onto its side, with the gunshot wound up. The wound was larger than I imagined it would be. It was located just behind the front leg, and I could make out the splintered end of a broken rib poking up through the blood that had pooled in it. Having made it to this point, I felt confident that I could make it the rest of the way, despite the fact that its only after the kill that the real work begins.


To be continued (again) with photos in Part 3...