12/8/06
The final weekend to the deer season was about to begin and I had yet to provide venison for the family larder. The early portion of the season had been very rainy with slate gray sky for days on end. Even with the adverse weather, I hunted with my flintlock long rifle. Being just my second year with her, she continues to teach me to be a better hunter and marksman.
But now the weather had gone the way of the impending winter. There is ankle deep snow on the ground and the temperature has fallen to single numbers during the over night. I was concerned that success in the deer woods would elude me and make for a hungry robe season. It was time for the final stretch.
Having caught up on the necessary demands on my time, I donned the heavy wool clothes and took up my long rifle for an afternoon hunt. Snow was falling so I tied the cow’s knee around the lock for protection from the moisture. So prepared, I trekked to the woodlot behind the house.
I had seen deer at a certain location twice before and chose to sit watch there. I snuggled into the root ball of a fallen tree and tried to make myself as still and tree like as possible. The woods were very still and with the sun beginning to set, the temperature became steadily colder. A week earlier I had seen a pair of deer pass by and I watched in that direction in hopes for a return. At the time no clear shot was available and I held my fire, perhaps today would be different.
Light was quickly leaving the woods when a movement caught my attention, first a leg, then another, then a brown shape. As it passed behind some trees, a second followed then a third and a fourth. I could not see if one in the group was a buck but at this late date, meat was the more important issue. Slipping the cows’ knee from the lock, I drew back the cock and set the trigger.
They were about seventy five yards away and headed left to right toward a small opening. As they moved, I shifted positions looking for that one best chance. I aimed the sights toward the tiny clearing and as the lead deer stepped out, I made a bleat sound and the doe stopped. With the sights on her shoulder, I touched the trigger and was rewarded with a very fast flash/boom. She swapped directions and they all ran back the way they had come.
The smoke drifted away and the woods became silent again as I stood to reload. While slowly charging the rifle, I replayed in my mind how the shot had been played out and was satisfied. The snow on the ground would make tracking easy but the light would be gone all to soon. I walked the trail to where I would intersect the deer tracks and found them quickly.
There in the snow was a sprinkling of hair, the first sign of a hit. Within three jumps back down the trail I found a spattering of blood droplets, to find this so soon was always a good omen. Watching ahead more then down I walked the tracks for about fifty yards. There I found where a plump doe had given up the ghost. With a glad heart I gave thanks both fitting and proper for the bounty that had been bestowed. Be it known that it was appreciated.
I had to hurry with the field dressing or I would be doing the chore in the dark soon. As always, my eagle head bag knife was called into play and the job was done in jig time. The patched round ball had struck just behind the shoulder and exited from the same point on the opposite side. When I pulled the heart from the chest no knife work was needed because the ball had shot off the top of the heart.
The season for deer is now over and the spiritual refreshment gleaned from the hunt has been gratefully absorbed once again.
The final weekend to the deer season was about to begin and I had yet to provide venison for the family larder. The early portion of the season had been very rainy with slate gray sky for days on end. Even with the adverse weather, I hunted with my flintlock long rifle. Being just my second year with her, she continues to teach me to be a better hunter and marksman.
But now the weather had gone the way of the impending winter. There is ankle deep snow on the ground and the temperature has fallen to single numbers during the over night. I was concerned that success in the deer woods would elude me and make for a hungry robe season. It was time for the final stretch.
Having caught up on the necessary demands on my time, I donned the heavy wool clothes and took up my long rifle for an afternoon hunt. Snow was falling so I tied the cow’s knee around the lock for protection from the moisture. So prepared, I trekked to the woodlot behind the house.
I had seen deer at a certain location twice before and chose to sit watch there. I snuggled into the root ball of a fallen tree and tried to make myself as still and tree like as possible. The woods were very still and with the sun beginning to set, the temperature became steadily colder. A week earlier I had seen a pair of deer pass by and I watched in that direction in hopes for a return. At the time no clear shot was available and I held my fire, perhaps today would be different.
Light was quickly leaving the woods when a movement caught my attention, first a leg, then another, then a brown shape. As it passed behind some trees, a second followed then a third and a fourth. I could not see if one in the group was a buck but at this late date, meat was the more important issue. Slipping the cows’ knee from the lock, I drew back the cock and set the trigger.
They were about seventy five yards away and headed left to right toward a small opening. As they moved, I shifted positions looking for that one best chance. I aimed the sights toward the tiny clearing and as the lead deer stepped out, I made a bleat sound and the doe stopped. With the sights on her shoulder, I touched the trigger and was rewarded with a very fast flash/boom. She swapped directions and they all ran back the way they had come.
The smoke drifted away and the woods became silent again as I stood to reload. While slowly charging the rifle, I replayed in my mind how the shot had been played out and was satisfied. The snow on the ground would make tracking easy but the light would be gone all to soon. I walked the trail to where I would intersect the deer tracks and found them quickly.
There in the snow was a sprinkling of hair, the first sign of a hit. Within three jumps back down the trail I found a spattering of blood droplets, to find this so soon was always a good omen. Watching ahead more then down I walked the tracks for about fifty yards. There I found where a plump doe had given up the ghost. With a glad heart I gave thanks both fitting and proper for the bounty that had been bestowed. Be it known that it was appreciated.
I had to hurry with the field dressing or I would be doing the chore in the dark soon. As always, my eagle head bag knife was called into play and the job was done in jig time. The patched round ball had struck just behind the shoulder and exited from the same point on the opposite side. When I pulled the heart from the chest no knife work was needed because the ball had shot off the top of the heart.
The season for deer is now over and the spiritual refreshment gleaned from the hunt has been gratefully absorbed once again.
