There are several reasons I love Thanksgiving. One is the fact that so far no one has figured out how to mess it up to where it loses its meaning. Thanksgiving is simply giving thanks and being thankful with a time chosen to do so. Another is that Thanksgiving takes place during my favorite time of the year...November. For a deer hunter, there is no time like November. Almost anywhere on the planet there are whitetails, except for the southern most areas, the whitetails are in the rut. During this magical time the mature whitetails are in hot pursuit of does ready to be bred, fighting with any rival males they cross paths with that has a chip on their shoulder, tearing the woods up making scrapes and rubs, they often throw caution into the wind and show up in places that their normally reclusive nature does not allow them to go. It is the one time of the year when the biggest of the big bucks are visible to the hunter. There is no better time for the whitetail hunter than the rut.
For many years Thanksgiving meant a family deer hunt where several of us would get together and spend some time hunting before gathering for the family Thanksgiving meal. Everyone knew that those of us who hunt would eventually show up to visit with the rest of the family and our absence for a few hours was probably welcomed by the ladies so we would be out of the way while they were making their preparations.
Memories of the past floods my being as I recall a Thanksgiving morning when our clan gathered before daylight on a frigid, wind whipped, icy November day in the Ozarks. Uncle David was our host with uncles Jimmy a.k.a. "Rambo," A.W., Beverly and I headed off into the darkness to stands that David had prepared. Uncle David is an excellent deer hunter and if he puts you on a stand you need to stay alert because there is a strong possibility that you will be in for some action before the hunt is over.
I was the first one dropped off in the black chill before there was even a hint of daylight anywhere. I climbed in the old wooden stand and decided that it wasn't too uncomfortable or unsafe, unlike several I have been in over the years. It is always interesting to me to watch and hear night give way to a new day as the night sounds and night creatures vanish and the sounds and sights of day slowly make their arrival. This day was no different and to me it was a magnificent dawn followed by a splendid sunrise and truly a time to be thankful.
With the coming of light, I could see that I was in a flat on a long ridge which swept in a semi circle with the lip of the deep hollow falling off into an abyss a few yards from my stand. I could see a speck of orange at the far end of the flat and knew that one of the other hunters was not far away. Occasionally, I could hear shooting in the distance, but none was close enough to be any of our bunch, but I had faith in Uncle David's choice of stands. Some of us would get some action.
Sometime after sunup, I noticed movement between me and the other hunter in the flat. I watched in interest as Uncle Jimmy who we affectionately refer to as Rambo from time to time would raise his rifle but would lower it without shooting. I would catch an occasional glimpse of a deer moving along the lip of the hollow and wondered why Jimmy didn't shoot. Then Uncle Jim would point at the deer, or more like jab his finger in the deer's direction. Eventually, the buck got close enough to my stand that I could shoot without shooting in Jimmy's direction. Before I shot the buck I looked at its gnarly rack in my scope and thought, "That's one ugly buck!" When the buck walked from behind a giant red oak tree I put the crosshairs behind his shoulder and gently squeezed the trigger. The whitetail bunny hopped three jumps and fell in the November leaves.
By the time I got out of my stand, I saw Uncle David coming up out of the hollow. He reached the deer before I did. "That's the ugliest buck I have ever seen!" I said to David. "But it is the first one you have killed this year, isn't it? It should be a good looking one to you!" he replied with a smile. "You're right of course. He is beautiful to me!" I said as I reached for the unusual looking rack of the Ozark whitetail. Then Rambo showed up talking so fast that I had to listen close to catch what he was saying, but it was something like this; "I would look at that deer and see horns, then I would raise my gun and the horns would disappear. I would look at him again and he would have horns, then when I would raise my gun they would disappear. I finally decided to let him pass because I knew if he had a rack on him you would shoot him!" he rambled.
That was the nature of Uncle Jim. If he saw a coyote, he would swear that it was a silver wolf. If he saw a house cat, in his mind it would be a wild cat or panther of some kind. If he saw a hawk, it had to be an eagle. Uncle A.W. was just the opposite. He was tall and quite with a deep soft voice. "That's a nice buck, Tommy," he said with a smooth southern drawl. "Tom A. You killed one!" Uncle Beverly said almost with a shout. He too, had a totally different persona than the others. I never understood why he called me Tom A but he always did and always appreciated a good deer hunt.
This Thanksgiving I will set in the woods with my wife Wanda who I dearly love to hunt with but my mind will be with my family that is no longer here. Of those who participated in Thanksgiving hunt when I killed the ugly buck, only David and I remain. Memories and pictures are reminders that we enjoyed a great time together and on this day I am truly thankful for the members of my family that are still here and for the ones with whom I have the privilege to spend the magical time of November in pursuit of the whitetail deer. Happy Thanksgiving and Good Hunting!
reprinted by permission, Paxton Media Group
