 It was a cold
snowy morning , opening day back in '97.
Two friends
and I set out to an area of isolated
wooded terrain amidst the army of hunters
surrounding us. It was 6:30 am, hot coffee and
goodies are packed into the bucket of supplies
to take out on the trail. Here it
was,,, the first day we had permission from the
State to take some veni-meat for our
tables!
Excitement
was high as we clarified where each of us were
to be based. We headed down the two-track in the
truck and a song came on that sent tingles ever
so deep within.
"Fred
Bear" by Ted Nugent just began to play.
The rhythm of the guitar and the story being
told in song about Fred Bear and the Spirit in
the woods couldn't have been more perfect. The
beat of the song mimicked that of the ol' ticker
when that special hunting experience hits you
between the eyes and then gets logged in the
memory banks for many a moon into our future.
As the
headlights of the truck scanned the snowy white
two-track ahead showing sign of a few deer but
no fresh tire tracks,,, our spot was
SAVED! Teds guitar hypnotically
echoed out the truck windows into the dark woods
as we turned up the tune to let it play at that
level many would frown upon. We weren't
frowning,,, and neither were the deer. They are
a curious critter and were probably tapping
their hooves in rhythm. (yeah,
right)
We
were in our element and the words held true, the
spirit in the woods was here. We could feel it.
The song
ended, the radio and truck now turned off at out
parking spot at the end of the two-track.
Energies from just prior were still permeating
from us,,,, we were not coming out of these
woods empty today. No way.
Still
crisp morning air stings our lungs as we set out
in our separate paths to get next to nature.
Senses highten as each step in the snow takes us
to our perspective roost. Walking was not what
you do on the hunt,,, you stalk. Every few slow
quiet steps, stopping, not only to listen,, but
to break the pattern of crunching sounds from
the crusty snow in an attempt to be as quiet as
possible. Furry ears that hear many a simple
sound is sensed as potential danger. You'll
never see a deer or racoon with a set of ear
plugs with an i-pod meandering aimlessly about
down the wooded trail. No way. They're on
the watch at most any given moment and we must
attempt to be that way too.
Fresh
tracks in the newly fallen snow graced my path as
I slowly ascend a steep hill, straight up a
deer runway to the top where the heavy oaks
stopped at a clear cutting on the other side. I
follow the woodline back down to a break in the
runway and found a spot where I could place my
back to a huge oak. There was a
decline of the hill on the other side of the tree
with a beaver pond at the bottom.
As quiet as
a one could be with a bucket banging, kicking
the snow aside with covered branches crackin',,,
I guess I lost the lot of my cover. I
figured I may set up quick if not quiet. Timing
is of essence too ya know.
A light pink
glow of the rising sun just beginning to break
the darkness, shapes became more discernable. It
wasn't even an hour after sitting in front of
that oak while sitting on a sheet, my bunns were
'per near frozen to the ground and then
some movement caught my attention atop the
hill from which I came.
A smaller
stately buck was sniffing the ground like a
puppy dog looking for a Milk Bone. My
scent trail was picked up undoubtedly yet there
might have had enough time to pass as not to
deter the buck from continuing his path back
into the cedars below me for the days retreat in
some laying grounds.
He got
halfway down the runway all the while looking
ahead right to my area. He kept stopping and
smelling, lifting his head and again looking
every 8-12 steps or so. He knew my shape
was not familiar but could not recognize what I
was. The fallen tree brush I'd sat behind must
have helped in distorting what I looked like ,,
so closer he came.
 Dissappearing in a small ravine
between us, my hand went to my rifle. Yet when his
rack was spotted along the ground line on his
ascent something says ''No, not the one". He was a
nice 4 pointer and had a nice broad chest. My
frozen hand falls back to my side as I kept my
head tuned to the left of where the deer was
coming from but keeping my eyes to the now
appearing head,, peeking over the hill towards me.
Closer he
came down the trail continually staring right
towards me,, stopping & smelling the
ground and the air. His curiosity took the
better of him as now he was about 20 feet from
me. Still walking closer and closer he was
practically 12-15 feet from me. My eyes
rarely made contact with his,, purposely looking
to his side and keeping my head still and facing
to the left. His head dropped with
eyes still trained on me, he stomped his right
foot. Quickly he lifted his head and then
lowering it and then stomped his left foot.
At
that, I looked directly at him. His head
raised to full height and froze at my sudden
movement. I smiled, nodded my head
and broke the silence in greetings just as in
the manner as how you would greet any other
friend,,,,,, "G'mornin' my Friend"
I said.
With that
the buck sprang to life, did a backflip and a
Fred Flintstone peel out retreating back
into the ravine and then re-appearing just on
the raise of the hill. He turns to look
towards me as so to see if I was following and
stared as if in amazement of ''what the hell
was that?"
Feeling as I
was of no danger he paralleled the hill to my
right then crossing back again over to my hill,
stopping at the top. His back to me, he
stood there looking over the clear cut
below facing due east.
I tell
you, watching his proud silloutte standing
there looking  away
from me with the golden colors of the sunrise
surrounding his shape as an aura,,, something
hit me and touched me so very deep. A spiritual
bullet if you will. Just to witness
this majestic creature in his realm was truely
awesome. I cannot convey the emotion
generated in witnessing this but my Spirit was
indeed intensely touched.
"Fairwell
my Friend. Make lots of majestic children as
yourself and be safe" I whispered
aloud to him.
Sometimes
we have to let it go so it can grow.
.
...
and so can we.
We never come out of the woods
without a bounty of some sort.
~Wudz
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