Hunting I: Friday and Saturday Morning

A few weekends ago I went hunting.
I think that it was a nice refresher from the intense college work. It was a weekend where there I was transported from DM to a town of approximately 600 people. No Internet. I kept my cell phone off most of the time as it was nice to unplug. No responsibility either. As I left the DM area all semblance of “trying to study this weekend” slipped away.

Friday night we both head in to town to watch the local high school fall in eight-man football to some other small town in Iowa of which I have never head. It was some consolidated school. There was no fence at the field either, fans were actively recruited to go up to the edge of the track and watch the action (and yell at any call the ref made that did not resoundingly support the home team). Over the din you could hear the sharp crack of plastic battle armor as these high school students put their full effort in to crushing their enemy. No matter how many times the home team scored, the opposing army would march down, score, and maintain their healthy lead.

We left with 5 minutes to go in the 4th quarter and drove to the local bar. We sat and drank until one, all the while engaging in various bar games and conversation.

Saturday… 5… 5:30am. You have to get up early, that is when the deer are most mobile. We shake off our collective hangovers and put on layer after layer of clothes. Even though it is approaching 45 degrees, we are encased in coveralls, coats, wool socks, and masks. The world is much colder when you are not moving and exposed up in a tree. The drive out to the stand is uneventful; we see a few deer prance around as the sun begins to think about coming up.

When we get out of the car we prepare ourselves by hiding our scent. A spray bottle that is a mix of cornstarch and other materials will help partially mask our smell. Breath is taken care of with “honey alfalfa” chewing gum which actually tastes pretty good.

Properly disguised, we march out to the stand. Dried leaves and corn stalks break beneath our boots as we conspicuously move. I try to avoid making too much noise, but sounds are produced with every single step. Once we make it to the stand, we bait it and climb up to the top.

Where we wait.

From here we can survey our vast empire. Two tree lines connect creating a L-shape that acts as a wind barrier for a field. We are situated on the “top” of the L, overlooking the corner that it creates. Mist hangs in the air over the freshly harvested field.

It is impossible to tell time while we are out there. The world slows to a crawl as I watch each individual layer of mist burn off. I pass in and out of consciousness. It is partially from the remnants of the beer, partially because I am not used to such a slow pace of action.

I am woken with a start: “Deer”.

I don’t move. Behind a tree I see a deer twice my size move out from under most of its cover. I watch this animal elegantly move with a stealth that seems impossible. Drawn closer, it moves painfully slowly (as if it were aware it was being watched) toward the kill zone. I can hear K’s thoughts, “Come on you fucker, keep comin’.”

To be honest, I can’t remember if K draws or not. Despite all the tricks and deer-like sounds we make, the animal freezes contemplating his next action. After a beat we can tell that he smells us. The deer snorts in contempt, shakes his head, and bounds away to the safety of the tree barrier.

Nuts. Not all is lost. After the rest of the uneventful morning, we dismount the stand and make our way back to the car and decide to steal eggs from K’s uncle (or some such other relative). After a few quick turns on these back roads, we arrive at a house with a small chicken coop outside. This adventure too only results in a loss as the eggs have already been confiscated by their rightful owner.