The Monster

This year is the first time Jaron got to go deer hunting. We got him his very own Weatherby 22-250, and I don't know what scope, and he has been target practicing with his dad. Because Madison was also going, we had to split up this time. We decided to do a little boys vs. girls, so Kevin took Jaron and I took Madison. Kevin built a shooting table for him, and we set up two separate hunting blinds in two separate fields. We hunted Saturday morning and evening without seeing anything but squirrels, turkeys, and birds. Not conducive to shooting big bucks, but very conducive to sharing hot chocolate, snacks, and jokes.

On the Sunday evening hunt, Madison and I saw several deer, but not when we were able to get a shot off. I received a text from Kevin that said, "We have deer." I heard a shot in the distance, shortly followed by, "Big buck down." I did not get to personally witness this historic moment with Jaron, but he has told me the story repeatedly, along with some reenactment and sound effects. He only had to shoot once. He mentions that a lot. He told everyone, "I shot a big buck. He was a monster!" The Monster Buck had eight points, and was twenty and a half inches wide. And Jaron has walked a little taller ever since.

hunting is for girls

I know there are a lot of girls who do not hunt. I have friends and family who do not mind if deer are hunted, they just don't want to be the ones to pull the trigger or field dress the animal. Well, I don't field dress the animal. Kevin does that for me. When I was in my blind over the past weekend, it was cold and windy. By the time darkness fell I was beyond ready to go home and warm up. But I loved it. I was thinking about all the reasons hunting is for girls, and decided maybe I needed to blog about it.

1. Rest. I use to hunt in a tree stand. I have come to enjoy the blind on the ground these days. You can really get comfortable in there. My gun was sitting on the table. I got to lounge in a bag chair with my feet up. I could see all the ditches surrounding my blind from the windows. Maybe I dozed a little. Nobody needed a single thing from me. For three hours. When is the last time that happened in your house?

2. Reflection. I love to listen and watch as the world goes by. I am not talking about horns honking and people shouting. I am talking about rustling leaves and tall, waving grass and geese in flight. I usually see deer, squirrels, and various birds. Sometimes I see a turkey or fox or coyote. I like to think about the people who may have crossed this field before me. Indians or pioneers who may have gathered around a fire there as their children played barefoot in the grass. I like to consider the way things may have looked then. Without powerlines and blacktops and fences dividing everything into segments. A mind can wander when left alone!

3. Accessories. I remember being out in the yard with my dad and brother once when someone stopped in the driveway for a few minutes. I have no memory of who it was, or what he discussed with my dad, but as he left, he said, "Well, I'll leave you and your boys alone now." My brother and I were wearing dark green coveralls and stocking hats. He thought I was a boy. Until recently, a girl had to look a lot like a boy to hunt, but have you seen hunting clothes for women lately? I got all new camo this year. It comes with pink or purple accents now. Instead of wearing man styles and sizes and looking like I am wearing my husband's pajamas into the woods, I now have Realtree camoflauge head to to, trimmed in pink, that is very obviously made for a girl.

4. The Hunting Bag. I don't know if boys do this, but I always take my hunting bag. I probably should not bring this up after my ramblings about becoming one with nature. However, here are the staples in my hunting bag: deer tags and heritage card, cell phone(set to vibrate, of course), mp3 player(in case nature is being too quiet for too long), hot hands, beverage(hot chocolate is my fave), snacks, lip gloss, extra ammunition, binoculars, extra blanket, digital camera. Pondering the ways of our ancestors does not mean I plan to live exactly as they did or anything. I like my conveniences.

5. The Guy I Married. Hunting always means spending time with my husband. He delivers me to my blind or tree stand and we meet up afterward. We discuss strategy and everything we saw and heard (or texts we may have gotten) during our hunt. Sometimes we hunt together throughout midday. It is something that has always been ours and I look forward to it.

6. Shooting Guns. I like to shoot guns. When I have a gun to my shoulder and my eye on the crosshair, I feel like I am ready for anything. I don't care if I am bringing down a big buck or hitting an orange dot on a paper target. When I fire a gun, and I hit my mark...it feels really good. Everybody should try it at least once.

So maybe you are a great white hunter, or maybe you don't think it is for you. I am just saying it could be your thing. Hunting can be a great thing for girls.

Just Like Me

One of my favorite things about hunting has nothing to do with shooting a deer. When I go deer hunting, Kevin walks me to my blind or tree stand in total darkness before going off to his. I settle in as quietly as I can, close my eyes, and wait for sunrise. Everything is hushed and solemn and serene. Not silent, but hushed. In these moments it is easy to forget about laundry and dishes and trying to build up vacation time at work. There are no worries. There is only peace. And possibilities. And hope. Slowly the woods start to come to life, anticipating the dawn. Squirrels start to scurry from branch to branch. Birds start to chirp and sing. Turkeys gobble. Owls hoot. If you are in the right place, the deer slowly make their way to their feet, shake themselves off, and crunch through the fallen leaves to step out into range. I think most hunters will tell you similar versions of what they would consider to be the perfect hunt. For me, it would go something like this:

On October 30, 2010, Madison went on her very first deer hunt. Hunting is not something that happens spontaneously. Preparation is involved. Kevin is not one to take someone hunting before they are capable and ready, so Madison had practiced with her rifle, an AR 223, and proven herself to be accurate (by accurate I mean repeatedly hitting a target smaller than a baseball from 100 yards). Kevin and Madison worked together in the garage to build a table from plywood and 2X4s, and he asked his grandmother to sew up some denim so he could make sand bags. Now she would be able to have a sturdy place to rest her gun as she shot. Prior to opening morning, we set up the blind complete with the table, sand bags and seating, and everything was all set.

The morning of the hunt, we were all up by 5:30. We delivered the non-hunting kids to Grandma's house. We parked the truck and walked about 500 yards to our blind. We quietly took our seats and settled in to wait. Soon after we could see into the field of clover, a buck deer slowly approached our blind as he grazed. The angle out of our "window" was not exactly right, and we had to move Madison's table and her seat to let her get the best chance at a shot. Leaves rustled during this process, causing the deer to throw his head up and look in our direction more than once. Most deer, with more age and intelligence, would have ran away about three times in the 30 seconds it took us to get Madison adjusted. But he just stood there as Kevin asked, "Do you see him in the scope yet? Do you see him?" She said no a few times until the excited whisper, "Oh, Dad! I can see him!" He said, "You need to shoot him as soon as you are sure!" The words had barely escaped his mouth when she fired her gun. It was the exclamation point to his instruction. In his very next breath, he said, "Oh! Good shot, Madison!" Because that deer fell over like a sack of potatoes. We all but tore the door off of our blind getting out to go see him up close. And then there were pictures and high fives. And hugs. Madison and I are girls, after all. She ran all the way back to the truck at full speed. It was the perfect hunt. Big on antlers and excitement. Small on waiting and waiting to see anything, and small on suffering--for the deer. On my slower walk back to the truck, it became obvious to me that Madison is already irrevocably hooked on two things: hunting and her daddy. Just like me.

A fork in the road

I am a deer hunter. I went with my dad as a kid. He had a thermos of coffee. I had hot chocolate. We both had honey buns. I just watched. It was calm and peaceful until we spotted a deer, and then things usually got a little more exciting. I hunted with my own gun for the first time in 1998. With Kevin. I shot a doe. I decided maybe I would rather not go for Bambi's mother anymore and I should look for the big bucks. We let the does by many times in the hopes that the big one is following them. I have killed 2 bucks since I have been married. I have killed some does as well when someone wants them to eat. I don't enjoy it so much. My blood is pumping much faster when I have big horns lined up in my scope as opposed to a graceful doe.

I have come to a fork in the road relative to deer. This morning, for the first time, there was an accident involving my vehicle and a deer. Actually two deer. A small deer ran into the sliding door in the middle of my van! Right into the side! I still think I can say I have never hit a deer because that deer hit me! 15 miles later I am pondering the intelligence and instincts of the species when ANOTHER large doe runs into my door, shattering my rear view mirror. I am thankful my mirror was all that was broken. I am thankful that it did not come through my window or Jaron's window. He was with me. And saying, "Mama, why did that deer hit our van? Mama, we need to tell my dad what that deer did to your van!" I think of all the what ifs and could have beens and I truly am grateful for a busted mirror. I will try to remain grateful when I am at the body shop this afternoon.

About that fork. There are two ways a hunter can go. Take one path and hunt for the trophies. Kevin is a trophy hunter. Unless someone asks him to get them a deer to eat. On the other path if it's brown, it's down! I have officially switched paths. I am not waiting on the Big Daddy in the brush. I am on the side of believers who say all deer need to be thinned out. So they can be healthy. So they will have enough to eat. AND so fewer of them will be in the road. I apologize to the Bambi lovers. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.