Thursday, October 7, 2010

Opening Day- Saturday Evening

The three of us returned to the old airstream to eat sandwiches for lunch and discuss our options for the evening hunt. Everything was proceeding smoothly until Ian and I discovered Shannon trying to conceal a stash of oatmeal cookies. To make a long story short, we all had oatmeal cookies after the dust settled.

Two o'clock found us parting ways in the woods to search for our own tree to climb, far away from where we had originally began the day. We had scouted the area weeks ago and found a lot of promising deer sign, our hopes were high.

I found what I thought was the perfect tree to climb and attached my climbing stand to it for the hunt. After settling down and getting comfortable the only thing left for me to do was to sit and wait for the appearance of the wily-old whitetail. The uneventful wait dragged on and on and spanned over the next five hours.

The sun was sinking to meet the horizon, time gained speed was quickly expiring. The high level of confidence I began the hunt with took a corresponding nose dive with the disappearing orb. A saving grace was the fact the sunset was really very beautiful and I wouldn't have seen this gift of God's artwork by sitting on the couch.

A few minutes later, the weakening sun was almost out of sight and darkness was approaching. All of the birds were preparing to roost for the night and the woods were becoming unaturally quite. The moment had arrived for me to start thinking of the exit from the woods.

And then . . .A stick cracked behind me and sent the loud sound of a rifle shot through the high volume setting of the hearing aid residing in my left ear. I'm glad the large trunk of the pine tree I was sitting in blocked the view of whatever was behind me. Otherwise, I'm certain it would have seen me jump. I slowly turned my head to see what invader had the gall to interrupt my peace. I discovered not one, but two does and they were less than fifteen yards away!

The moment of truth was at hand and I ever so slowly twisted my body to face the animals and drew the bowstring all the way back to my ear. My right eye peered through the sight and placed it on the larger animal's shoulder, but I had one small problem. The arrow would have to pass through a small obstruction of tiny tree limbs. I found an opening, about eight inches in diameter. After years of practicing to hit a one inch bull'seye at thirty yards, it was much more than I needed. My index finger gently squeezed the trigger of the release. My eyes locked onto the bight colors of the fletching and watched it fly true. They saw the broadhead pass through the center of the opening exposing the unsuspecting deer's shoulder and then lost sight of it. A loud CRAAACK! filled the air at the same time of the broadhead's passing through the opening.

Pandemonium broke loose! The two startled deer (one of which I knew to be mortally wounded), crashed through the woods with their white tails waving in the air, in a gesture of defiance and blowing out insults to the nut sitting in the tree (you guessed it, me).

Hey, don't get upset, it's really alright, since I knew I'd have the last laugh at the dinner table. Why, it was so close to dinner time, with a little imagination I could already smell the venison sausage cooking.

Darkness soon enveloped the woods and the small portable radio in my pocket sqawked to life. It was No Primer Shannon.

"Hey Rodney, did I hear you shoot?" he asked.
"Yea, you sure did," I responded, my shaky voice betraying my excitement.
"What was it? I saw two does pass by me after you shot," he responded.
"I shot a doe."
"Did you make a good shot?"
"Hold on a minute. Think about who you're talking to here. Now really, a second place finisher in a statewide archery tournament, and you're asking me if I made a good shot? It was only fifteen yards away." I was still high on adrenaline and was having some fun at Shannon's expense.
"Whoa! I'm sorry Deadeye. I'll get down and come help you look for her."
"Thanks partner. I'll see you soon."

After the brief conversation ended, I climbed down from the tree and went to search for the bloody arrow. I found half an arrow instead. The half containing the broadhead. I held it in my hand and my unbelieving eyes examined it in detail in the bright beam of light generated by my headlamp. I went into temporary shock when my brain finally accepted the truth the eyes were relaying. It's still painful to admit, but here it is, THE BROKEN ARROW WAS CLEAN. Which of course meant that I had somehow MISSED and THE DEER HAD HAD THE LAST LAUGH AFTER ALL!

I tromped through the woods holding onto the clean-broken arrow to intercept Shannon and Ian and to save them from walking to meet me. Of course, I had to eat crow and offer my most sincere apologies to Shannon for ridiculing him for questioning my shot placement. I will always be grateful to him for graciously accepting it, but the gleam in his eyes and the curled lip tells me I haven't heard the end of it.

The consensus is, the downward trajectory of the arrow caused the rear half of the shaft to glance off of one of the small limbs. The result was to throw the arrow radically off to the side into a tree. The violent impact had thus, broken the arrow in two.

Until next time . . . THE END.

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