I love hunting. The one thing that I can do both relaxes and exhilarates me at the same time. If you have never been then you may not understand, but for those hunting purist will know exactly what I’m talking about.
It is even the kill. Most people it is the kill that makes it so great, but for me that is not the only reason why I wake up before most people even know there is such a time. Now, don’t get me wrong, the kill is something special too. But it’s everything. It’s the being out in nature. Feeling connected to my food source, the stillness of the woods. How without even trying everything in nature know exactly what their job is, and they execute each day without much incident.
It’s one place in this world where I can get away with not answering my phone. I just love it.
A beautiful crisp morning, one where the fog is still lulling around. The grass has the light sheen of fresh dew. The birds chirping with life and it is not quite cold but just a bit crisp. Everything is still like after a reviving summer rain. It was on an autumn morning such as that I harvested my first buck.
I remember like it was yesterday…
It was the day after my fourteenth birthday, my older brother and his best friend had finally succumb to my begging. I was so excited when he told me to be ready to hunt early the next morning.
I don’t think I slept no more than five minutes that night. I kept tossing and turning, going over everything I needed. My mental checklist. I kept checking my equipment making sure that my gun is clean, I had enough bullets, my camouflage gear, in my head I kept checking and re-checking my gear.
Then before I could literally explode with excitement, my alarm goes off. Its three am and I’m ready. I even beat my brother to the kitchen; I ate my cereal and waited for him. Any other time he speeds through everything but that morning it seems as if he was operating in quicksand. That boy was slow as molasses.
Finally, we get in his pickup truck and head to his best friend’s house. Scoop him up then headed off into the woods. My grandparents live on an old farmhouse. It’s situated on hundred acres of woods; they have always encourage us to use it to hunt or whatever.
As I sit in my tree stand waiting for my opportunity, I get to enjoy the best show on earth. To watch everything wake up, as the sun continue to rise it’s like God’s alarm clock for His earthling creatures.
It was beautiful. Even at fourteen, I could appreciate how majestic it is to see life become awake. The variety of wildflowers open their petals in a search for that first morning sunlight. The birds start chirping and squawking like their life depended on it, it’s like everything is saying good morning to each other.
As im marveling at this sight before me, about forty yards to my left I see the most regal looking buck. He was strong, tall, with a huge rack. He seem to stand their defiantly waiting for anyone to come and challenge his position.
As I draw my gun to my shoulder, he turns his head. I think he sees me, in fact I’m one hundred percent positive he sees me. As he looks into my eyes, he nods his head, turns so his broadside is facing me, and then he pauses. He just stands there. Like he waiting for me to take him.