Last night I went to an event for Alumni of my college fraternity. I was out late, but kept the drinking to reasonable levels. I woke up at 5am and started the drive to New Hampshire. I was tired and slightly hungover, but during hunting season my weekend days are spent in the woods, and that’s that.
Of larger concern is my fiance’s birthday, which is today. This is my first day of rifle season hunting this year. Going out to the woods means missing her crew race at the foot of the Charles river in Boston. She understands what hunting means to me and accepts my absence.
By dawn at 6:30 I am in my stand on a cliff overlooking a logging road that the deer like to travel on. By 9:30 I hadn’t seen anything.
Just then a truck drove down into the area on the same access road I can in on. It parked not too far off and a man started using a chainsaw to cut wood. Not wanting to be near this distraction, I gathered my gear and began to still-hunt towards a suspected bedding area nearby. I was beginning to get cold anyway from being so long in my stand.
I only made it a few hundred yards before something interesting happened.
The woods had been very noisy on this day. The wind was blowing causing the treetops to creak and groan. Chipmunks were chattering across the forest. As always, the armies of birds danced through the brush in waves searching for food. So, when I heard some noise coming from directly in front of me, I didn’t think too much of it. I was already standing in one spot, because I was moving slowly, quietly and deliberately a few paces at a time. My 12 gauge shotgun was still cradled in my arm, loaded with 5 rounds of the Rottweil three inch magnum slugs. No sense being cheap with the ammo I plan on bringing into the woods.
Even though I didn’t take the crunching of leaves I was hearing seriously enough to raise my gun, I was looking at the source of it for any movement. A scarce few seconds after first hearing the noise a full sized doe came into view. She was running gracefully through the trees. She was moving towards me, but not directly. Her path was bringing her across my right side, about 20 or 30 yards away at the closest point. I don’t remember thinking about bringing my shotgun to my shoulder, but it was there. The push of adrenaline and everything that comes with it hit me in an powerful wave.
I silently told myself to focus. Keep calm and use your head, Jake. Although this isn’t my first deer, the chance of getting “buck fever” and screwing up the basics is always a possibility. Identify the target, Jake. It is certainly a full size deer. No antlers, but a doe is fair game in this area. Line up the sight picture, Jake. She’s really moving fast. Aim for the volleyball sized chest vitals as she gets closer and comes broadside to my position.
I fire a round. The once and a half of lead hits her broadside, but I can’t tell where on the body. The animal is knocked down and off it’s feet by the force of the kenetic energy that has just been delivered into it’s body. Amazingly, it struggles almost immediately back up to be standing. I pull back the pump on my shotgun and push it forward, ejecting the spent shell and loading a fresh round. It’s been about 5 seconds since I first heard the noise in the woods in front of me. I fire again. The reaction is not what I expect. The deer jumps up after I fire the round and runs. This time it is moving away from me, since my postion has been announced rather loudly.
The opportunity to fire again doesn’t present itself. I check my watch for the time. I look at the spot where I shot the deer twice and memorize it. I make a note of where I am standing and have to slide my gun partway open to verify that I have a live round loaded. In the excitement I wasn’t sure if I had pumped the gun after the last shot. Forcing myself to be patient I wait five solid minutes before moving a single step. Slowly I move to where the deer had been hit. After searching, I can’t find the expected splatter of blood from the successful hits. Confused, I begin to follow the trail through the leaves and brush that the deer tore up on it’s hasty escape. Soon, I find what I had been hoping for. Bright red blood with bubbles on both sides of the tracks. The animal has been hit perfectly, through both lungs. It won’t make it far. I continue along the winding trail left by the doe. I find her laying 100 yards away. She has taken her last breath.
It turns out I had shot her twice, both times through the area above the diaphram. The rounds went in behind the shoulders and the area containing the heart and lungs. Amazing creatures that deer are, she managed not only to get up but to run well out of sight after being mortally wounded.
It’s more than four hours later that the deer is field dressed, carried out of the woods, weighed, checked in and dropped off at the local butchershop. The adrenaline still hasn’t worn off. I have never felt more alive.
