Hunting Season 2009
Deer (rifle) season started off with a bang last week. Even if Zack couldn’t hit the side of a barn shooting with his challenged hands, we nevertheless joined the hundreds (thousands?) of Texas men (and probably more than a few hardy women) who braved the early hour to sit patiently in trees, camo-tents, and cramped, box-like structures hoping to catch a glimpse of the perfect buck. Armed with my camera, we trudged through dangers of the mild, pre-dawn morning, battling unseen spider webs and uneven earth. The walking was courageous for Zack whose balance is still pretty weird.
Deer (rifle) season started off with a bang last week. Even if Zack couldn’t hit the side of a barn shooting with his challenged hands, we nevertheless joined the hundreds (thousands?) of Texas men (and probably more than a few hardy women) who braved the early hour to sit patiently in trees, camo-tents, and cramped, box-like structures hoping to catch a glimpse of the perfect buck. Armed with my camera, we trudged through dangers of the mild, pre-dawn morning, battling unseen spider webs and uneven earth. The walking was courageous for Zack whose balance is still pretty weird.
Making our way to the stand, I was reminded to pick up my feet and stop my camera from swishing against my jacket. We sat for an hour-and-a-half. We waited. I had been warned to stay quiet, remained mostly silent and tried not to clear my throat. You never notice how often you do that until someone asks you not to. I understand now why hunters often tie themselves into trees. Not a morning person, I was on the verge of drifting off many times, secretly wondering why I had left the comfort of my warm, cozy bed after too few hours of sleep. The closest encounter we had with wildlife was the mosquito that hunted ME and the squirrel that almost ran across our laps. I’m not sure which of us was the most su
rprised.
I admit that the sunrise was lovely, what I remember of it in my dazed state. Giving up on the deer stand, we started a long walk, and that was when the fun began. We encountered Frazier (the Gray) Crane, looking at least three feet tall — and quite regal — from a distance, heard and saw a flock of Sandhill Cranes flying south. There was a new, lone duck swimming on the tank, probably just passing through or here on a short vacation. We came closer than ever to one of our horned owls, before he grew bored watching us and flew off to terrorize squirrels.
A few years ago, I learned what a buck snort is, but I encountered my first one only this past year. I had no idea it would be so loud and indignant. On our “opening day deer season walk,” I was snorted numerous times, something I consider a rare honor, having waited half a lifetime for the first one. (I’m still waiting to see cedar “smoke” as the berries “explode” with pollen.) As we approached the tank, I heard the first snort from a copse of trees on my left, but saw nothing. Just as we spied several does and fawns across the tank, they must have caught our scent. We received no less than six more snorts from the indignant does, maybe a world’s record. We immediately named that part of path “Buck Snort Bend.” (Today I received a fawn snort. There should be awards for things like this.) After our morning of “hunting,” we were rewarded with Zack’s homemade chili cooked over an open fire. Not a bad first day.
On the second day of deer season, we went right to the walk, foregoing the stand after our disappointing experience the previous day. I was extremely proud of myself when I spotted a couple of buck rubs and some rabbit fur. The latter was no doubt the work of some wily coyote or fox. We have those, too. I hope I’m becoming more observant. We saw several creepy varieties of mushrooms that looked dangerous enough to kill. We noticed the turning leaves. I am NOT a morning person, but I must admit to missing these walks. We often started weekend mornings this way before Zack fell ill, he eagerly and I grudgingly and with much complaining. As much as I as hated rising so early, I always enjoyed being out once I survived the shock of it. I’m glad we’re able to get out more now and enjoy nature. Besides, I can use the exercise.
We tried the tree again this afternoon with exactly the same luck as before — none. Perhaps we lack the patience for deer stands. After seeing our friend Ron’s set-up, I noticed that there are ways to make one’s stand more personal and user-friendly, homey if you will. After all, many long hours will be spent in these homes away from home. (“Hunting widows” will attest to this.) There are accessories for comfort, and hunter-type activities that help pass the time. (More about those in a future column. Hunting season lasts a couple of months and will no doubt inspire more writing and commentary.) I noticed some sort of buck grunt call — and Ron described a noise maker that imitates an amorous, interested, available, love-struck doe. I hear it’s irresistible to the poor guys.
Ron’s stand sported antlers a hunter can hit together — creating an auditory, imaginary rival to entice a buck closer. (Sporting goods departments sell all kinds of sneaky stuff.) I noticed a rope hanging from Ron’s stand for pulling up supplies, possibly refreshing beverages. I saw a hook from which to hang — what? Lunch? And all this was disguised with a decorative bit of lovely, camo netting. Our stand is bare in comparison with even the seat cushion temporarily missing while I sew a new cover. Some critter chewed into a corner of it — probably that squirrel.
We’re already discussing the possibility of a much larger, more comfortable tree house/deer stand for next year. Knowing Zack, it will have a roof, walls, electricity, wood-burning stove and wrap-around porch. As long as there’s room for a cot, I’ll be happy. We hunters need our creature comforts.
(Gene Ellis, Ed.D is a Bosque County resident who returned to the family farm after years of living in New Orleans, New York, and Florida. She is an artist who holds a doctoral degree from New York University and is writing a book about the minor catastrophes of life.)
