The fog was as thick as any I have ever seen or experienced. As daylight arrived, the visibility increased very little. Sitting on the stand after full daylight, I still could see only a short distance. I felt as though I was still sitting in the dark. The heavy fog was at the point of being a rain. There was water dripping off of my gun, my stand, the tree limbs over my head. Basically, everything was wet. That was okay with me, though as long as the downpour held off for a while.
Wanda does not mind sitting in the rain and she has many times in the past. I am more like an old tomcat that doesn't relish the idea of getting rained on. Last year, during this same time period I sat (rather stood) in a covered Texas style deer stand during a torrential downpour that was being pushed by a heavy wind. It was virtually raining sideways. I have an idea what the deer were thinking when they walked out in my shooting lane and stopped. It didn't matter, I guess because a few minutes later two of them took a ride in the back of my truck. I was soaked, the deer were soaked, everything was saturated by the relentless storm.
I was in hopes that today would not turn into a day like that one. This year Wanda wasn't playing fair...she was spending her time in a camo fiberglass house with windows, a locking door and a heater. She could care less how hard it rained. She even teased me a bit when she sent a text message saying, "Is it starting to rain?" I kind of wanted to roll her in the closest mud hole. Only kidding. What I really wanted was for her to kill a deer today.
An hour on stand didn't bring much help in the visibility. I could not see the bottom of the hill, I couldn't make an identification on the three deer that walked past my stand at eighty yards, but I felt that they were the same deer that had passed Scottie Andersen's stand not far away. He sent me a text message that there were three deer headed in my direction. Scottie is one of the Redhead Pro Team members and founder of Christian Hunters of America. He had made his annual trek from Oklahoma to hunt with us for a few days.
A deer materialized out of the fog. It was a mature doe. She was followed by two more deer, both of them does. I watched the deer with my binoculars and only when two of the deer disappeared into the brush did I raise my rifle. My better judgement told me that to harvest the old doe was to do my part of being a good manager of the deer herd. The fact that our house full of kids love fresh venison better than any other food reassured me that I was making the right decision when I squeezed the trigger on my rifle, but just the same I felt sadness as I watched to make sure she was down for the count.
In a matter of minutes, Wanda's rifle shattered the silence and as the shot echoed down the river basin, I knew that our kids would be happy and well fed during the first part of the New Year. I was much happier to hear Wanda shoot than I was to shoot myself.
Wanda is a good hunter and an excellent shot. A wide blood trail led us to a mature doe lying in the white oaks. A perfectly placed shot had put the deer down in mere seconds and when harvesting deer or any other animal, this is the proper way for it to be done.
Wanda, Scottie, and I drug both deer to where we could load them in the truck. Scottie and I had to drag mine much further, but it was all down hill so it was not difficult. Actually, I probably could have driven to my deer, but dragging your deer out with a friend or family member is part of the experience that brings fond memories somewhere down the road.
As the year ends, I hope we all can reflect on fond memories of time spend with friends and family in the wonderful outdoor world in pursuit of the most fascinating game animal in the world, the whitetail deer. Happy New Year!
reprinted by permission, Paxton Media Group
