Day 13 — The existential philosophers advocated living without hope to avoid disappointment. I hadn’t realized until today Camus and Nietzsche were deer hunters.
Oh, I saw deer, battalions of deer, in fact, almost a plague of deer. Unfortunately, they also saw or heard me long before a shot could be taken due to the tag-you’re-it distances encountered in the incredibly thick undergrowth of this new area. Seeing deer and not having a shot is aggravating the first couple of times, but after another half-dozen missed opportunities — all ending in loud snorts and flagging deer butts — frustration gnaws at your gut like an angry ferret. I hate ferrets. I’m also beginning to hate deer; and geese, for good measure.
Day 14 — The entry for this day is smeared and unreadable due to what appear to be tear stains.
Epilogue — Honestly, this column was actually written on the eve of Closing Day. Therefore, it is quite possible I will be a very happy camper by the time you read these words, having overcome adversity to feel the self-satisfied glow of success achieved after a long, hard journey.
Oh, who am I kidding? And, just for the record, I deny any knowledge of a tree-dwelling rodent named Claude.
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Deer Diary …
Rantings from the field
As we reach the collective end of the deer season in many locales where this magazine is read — or is otherwise put to good use in the hunting camp outhouse — I believe both regular readers of this column might find it interesting to review the personal journal and expedition notes of an outstanding hunter.
Unfortunately, this hunter didn’t keep a written record so I’m forced to share my own rough scratchings from deer season 2020. Here is the unabridged version of the heroic account:
Day 1 — Within moments of sun-up, I see a giant buck meandering around the woods at the edge of visibility. After a few heart-pounding moments, he finally melts back into the undergrowth for good. Later, around noon, I’m nearly trampled by three more bucks in a thicket as I head back to my truck. Unfortunately, no shots are taken.
Reminder to self: If the season doesn’t end well, you can always write a column based on today’s experience using a tried-and-true professional outdoor writer literary technique — humble-bragging how you tagged the massive 28-pointer with a 500-yard offhand running shot. I’m confident readers won’t mind if the buck in question is actually still mincing around the woods in perfect health.
Day 2 — Lots and lots of deer sign but no sightings. There is an exceptionally friendly squirrel living in the tree next to my deer stand. I’ve named him Claude. Unlike the other squirrels blithely scurrying around the forest floor minding their own business, Claude realizes what I’m doing and frequently comes by to sit and stare at me. Perhaps he’s lonely.
Day 3 — Nearly attacked by a squadron of songbirds. Apparently we’re in the middle of a significant migration as there are all sorts of small woodpeckers, chickadees, cardinals, waxwings and other birds I can’t identify flitting around my head. Often they are so close I can hear the cat purr-noise of their wings as they fly near my head. No sighting of deer in two days but Claude stopped by several times to say “Hi.” He’s starting to get on my nerves.
Day 4 — Nearly scared myself to death when I walked past one of my trail cameras in the dark. One moment I’m creeping anxiously along in the pitch-black forest, the next moment a blinding strobe light explodes. This caused my heart to do a series of wind sprints up and down my gullet but otherwise there was no harm done. At least we know there is one interesting picture on the camera. Still no deer seen, perhaps due to a mysterious series of screams heard just before dawn.
Day 5 — What a wonderful sunrise. The indescribable beauty of the morning forest, framed by a watercolor sky and punctuated by the incandescent disk of the rising sun, is impeccable. The moment is breathtaking and sublime, one you could never capture on film but only within a living memory. Still haven’t seen hide nor hair of any deer since opening morning.
Day 6 — When I was goose hunting, I saw no geese but ran into five deer. When I’m deer feathered sky-carp flying around overhead. Discussion question: What exactly is the definition of madness? Claude needs to watch his back.
Day 7 — I have hunted good and fine and honorably for one week and only seen the four deer on opening morning. Taking an optimistic approach, I realize gun season is only half over and there is plenty of time to take a trophy buck.
Everything is fine, I’ve been in this position before and still scored great trophies before the end of the season.
Day 8 — It rained today. What a wonderful way to spend a portion of the limited hours of one lifetime, pretending to be a rain-soaked stump being watched by a damn fool squirrel. To heck with optimism — why am I doing this? This is almost as fun as repeatedly striking myself on the temple with a 22-oz. framing hammer.
Day 9 — What do you think happened again today? It has often been noted you could be driving across the Sahara desert at noon on July 4 and still run a significant risk of striking a deer with your automobile. However, when you are totally camouflaged, doused in malodourous doe urine costing $10 per minuscule bottle and have been sitting immobile for hours in prime woodland habitat, there are no #$%@* deer within 100 miles. Claude fled for his life after seeing the look in my eyes.
Day 10 — I watched a snail crawl along the edge of a straight razor. It was laughing at me. Just like the stupid squirrel.
Day 11— Today I took a midday break from hunting and browsed several self-help websites on the Internet. I feel much better and the voices in my head are no longer audible to those standing more than six feet away. I also must invoke my Fifth Amendment protections if questioned about Claude’s disappearance.
Day 12 — What a great day! After 10 days of frustration, I changed my hunting venue to another nearby “backup” property. There, I found where all the deer had been hiding! In one hour, there were about 15 deer seen including three large “shooter” bucks. Unfortunately, no shots were fired due to poor timing and other factors but things are looking up as the season is starting to wind down.