The night before the deer hunt opener has always held a certain mystical excitement for me that might only be understood by other hunters. I always reminisce over past hunts. Successful ones and otherwise. That's actually an incorrect statement. All hunts are successful in one way or another.
One hunt on my mind tonight is from just a few years ago. Dad had been watching a specific deer for several weeks before season. My Dad had this buck patterned; figured out as well as any high priced guide could ever do. Opening morning found us orange clad and climbing the steep canyon the buck called home. Lungs burning, legs aching, the anticipation grew with each agonizing step up the gruesomely steep mountain. As the light on the eastern horizon made it's welcomed arrival, an almost ghostly form was located below us on the opposite ridge. As dawn grew nearer, through sweat filled eyes and fogging binos the form materialized into 'the' buck. With legal shooting light only minutes away, I quickly ranged the deer. 350 yds. "Is that him?" I asked my Dad. "Yip, has to be. He's in the same place he's been everyday", he assured me. I setup for the shot. I wasn't about to let this deer give us the slip. Not after all the time Dad had put in. Even at 350 yds away, with the wind in our favor, the buck had us pegged. It was time. At the shot, the buck whirled and staggered down hill. The distinctive report of the rifle hadn't stopped echoing in the canyon before the second, although not completely necessary, bullet was already on its way to anchor the buck for good. Both bullets found thier mark, the deer was dead in seconds.
That day is burned into my memory. Nothing will take that experience from me. The animal quite literally became part of me. With every roast or steak I'd partake of, I remembered that day on the mountain with my Dad. Thanks Dad for all that you have taught me.
Without a tag for tomorrow, all I can do is think back over past experiences. I relish the memories more than my words can express. That said, I still ache to be out there in God's creation. Doing what I love, what I live for. I leave you with this simple rhyme so you can maybe get a since of my angst.
Here I sit all sad and jaded,
I want to hunt but my tag is out dated,
I tried my best during black powder season,
My goal unmet cause I kept missin',
This season is gone, but I'll be back,
With stronger determination next year to give a muley a dirt nap!
The beast lives on! Long live the beast!
