To Deer Or Not To Deer
Isn’t it funny how weeks of agonizing over a decision are forgotten in seconds whenever temptation arrives on the scene?
The past week was the opening of the deer firearms season, one of the holiest days on the hunter’s calendar. This year, I greeted the first dawn beneath an oak tree chosen on the spur of the moment.
Due to a severe case of laziness, I hadn’t brought my tree stand into the woods. Instead, I was sitting on a small seat with my back against the aforementioned white oak, watching the intersection where woods, picked corn and soybean fields all met. As gray light began to creep through the woods, I could see my decision had been correct because there were already several deer quietly dining within eyesight.
As the sun rose, I could see several of the deer were does, but some of those farther away remained in the “to be determined” category. As I watched them eat and generally loll around the area, “The Decision” reared its ugly head. The long internal debate was rekindled and began to blaze anew.
Choices Made
Last year I took an unimpressive eight-point buck. It was all good and fine and honorable, as Hem would say, but I began to have the unshakable feeling an “expert” deer hunter was more discriminating in his choice of animals. Over several months, I examined this idea and my own expectations from all sides before deciding to confine my deer hunting efforts to only antlerless deer for a couple of years in hopes the bucks in our hunting areas would grow larger racks.
I decided the best way to do this would be to purchase only an antlerless deer tag, thereby removing all temptation to shoot an undersized buck. Through spring, summer and early fall, I was content with this scheme.
However, as deer season approached, I began to discuss this concept with friends. Uniformly, they looked at me as if I had been snorting gun solvent or cavorting with the devil. “Everybody gets a buck tag!” they exclaimed, horrified at my decision.
Finally buckling to peer pressure, I broke down and purchased a buck tag two days before the season. I repeatedly assured my conscience only a massive, giant, elk-like whitetail buck would draw fire from my 12-gauge. With firm sincerity, I set off lightheartedly into the woods on opening day.
Promises Broken?
I have reached the age wherein I understand it is easy to make a resolution when you’re not directly confronting seduction. After a lifetime of failed diets and other vices I’ve never been successfully overcome, I knew beforehand the human spirit is immeasurably weak. Unfortunately, prior knowledge did little to calm the mental storm that arose as I looked out over the field full of deer.
As expected, conviction began to wane the moment I saw the buck. He was a non-descript six-pointer, heavy-bodied but not a trophy by even novice hunter standards. In fact, it was just a smidgen larger than what is known as a “basket rack.” I’m surprised he continued to draw closer because the noise inside my head had reached a full shouting match.
The deer was following the trail of twin yearling does that walked within 10 feet of where I sat in the dark. They had been concerned about the strange lumpy shadow sitting next to a tree nearby but unsure if I represented danger thanks to a favorable wind. They eventually walked away, still confused but leaving a heavy scent trail for the buck. He was following, 15 minutes later, on the still-hot track.
The deer stopped within 15 yards as he suddenly sensed my presence. Like the does, he stood frozen, black nose sniffing audibly, trying to decide if I were a threat. As I had already shifted into shooting position, I watched his upper body over the sharp front sight of my gun.
Theater of the Mind
“To shoot or not to shoot, that is the question.” Shakespearean paraphrasing aside, I was painfully confronted by my choice. Two strong opposing internal forces reached an impasse at the moment over the sights of my shotgun barrel — simple want of deer meat versus a well-intentioned and publicly made vow.
I have often admitted a love of meat is a primary motivation for my deer hunting. I enjoy the woods, the camaraderie of the hunt, and the challenge of stalking and shooting, but I also dearly love those packages of toothsome venison nestled in the freezer. So does my family.
However, I certainly wanted to help improve the trophy potential of our deer wood, both for my hunting buddies and myself. While I have a couple of deer on the walls of my home, there is certainly room for more and bigger.
On the other hand, selfishly, there is also the tug of bragging rights, those, “Yep, I got my deer this year” statements. You always think you’re long past such things, but they always seem to come out in a moment of humble-brag with the guys.
What to do? Shakespeare didn’t really offer any help at this point.
Greed and desire won as I fired. At this near point-blank range, missing was almost impossible, barring a sudden infarction. The deer ran a few yards and collapsed — a clean single-shot kill pleasing to both my conscience and the red gods.
As I stood over the downed animal, the buck didn’t exactly feel like a major victory, but it certainly wasn’t a defeat. Instead, I realized I had bagged an elusive trophy, something rare in our day-to-day living — satisfaction.
It was enough.
For now.
Want more online exclusives from GUNS Magazine delivered straight to your inbox? Sign up for our FREE weekly email newsletters.
