At the close of the Fashion Challenged Seventies I was turning fourteen years old. It was a time of change in many ways. We had moved from our little house in town out into the country into a big house during the last school year. I was in eighth grade and changing pretty fast. The happy go lucky kid was becoming a teenager and all that entails.
I enrolled in a hunter safety course in September so that I could get my Deer Hunting License. It was a big deal, no doubt about that, my birthday is opening day of Deer Season. The day of all days here in the Mitten. The day the woman folk are left home and the men go forth up the Great Road and into the woods to hunt deer. This day is the day young boys go to become men, a right of passage as old as time itself.
As it happens, this would be the first year I could actually get a license and hunt deer and I was excited. I took the course and studied and worked as hard as I could. I passed and I was off to get my first license. My parents bought me a twenty gauge shotgun and an orange jacket for my birthday. I was ready.
That first weekend of the season we drove up to my grandparents farm. It was November and cold, but I was so excited I could have lived in the woods. That first morning before sun up we were out into the woods. I had already picked out a stump to sit on right where the hardwoods, the swamp, and the corn field meet. I sat there all morning, waiting for a deer to pass by, but I saw nothing at all.
After warming up and eating lunch, I went back out into the woods with my dad and brother. The afternoon was cold but I was too excited to care. I sat down on my stump and tried to be patient and quiet. And you know what, I did pretty good but the sun was going down and I had yet to see a deer. I had a good spot and saw plenty of deer before but today there was nothing. Until my dad whispered at me from over by the fence. He was looking out into the field and pointing.
I could not see anything so I went over to stand by him. He gave me his rifle and told me to look through the scope. There they were, about two hundred yards out in the field. I confidently told my dad I would sneak down the fence line and shoot the big buck I saw. Well he just shook his head and told me to use his gun, shoot from there. I did not want to, I wanted to use my new gun. But I knew he was right, so I took careful aim.
I will admit, I was nervous, it was my dad's gun that I was not allowed to touch. Oh sure I shot a twenty two and a 4-10 and even shot my new shot gun a few times, but this was the big gun. I could see about a dozen deer and one was a pretty big buck. I took aim again and I fired. The herd just stood there, and my dad said shoot again!. So I pulled the bolt back and racked home a shell and shot again, then again. The third shot rang out and the deer scattered to the swamp. I was sure I had missed.
I gave the gun back to my dad and picked up my shot gun. I was pretty disappointed. I looked over at my dad and he was looking through the scope. He said here, take a look. I looked through the scope and sure enough, I could see a deer on the ground near the swamp. Whoa! I was ready to run right down there and look! First rule of hunting is patience but I wanted to go look at that big buck I was shooting at, heck yeah.
After what seemed an eternity, we walked down the field toward the brown hump laying in the field. I was shaking from excitement. When we got about twenty yards away the deer tried to stand and looked at us. It was not the big buck I was aiming for, but the small spike horn that was standing next to it. I missed the big buck and shot the smaller one.
The spike horn could not stand, it's back was broken. I took careful aim with my shot gun and shot it in the neck. It fell back down, then tried to pull itself toward the fence. I could not believe it, so I shot it again in the neck and it fell down. I walked closer and the buck was still alive and just looking at me. Shot twice in the neck and once in the back and it still would not die.
Finally it did die, bled right out as I watched with tears in my eyes. I sat down on the ground as they went up to the barn and got the tractor so we could carry it back to gut it. This was not the first animal I had seen die or had killed, but I could not help feeling sad. I was ok when they got back and we took that small deer, hung it up in the barn and gutted it. Then my grandma cut it up and wrapped it. I had helped with this before and it was not new, but it seemed that way.
I still remember that day, thirty years later, like it was yesterday. I still hunt on occasion, and fish and enjoy the outdoors, but that day was the day that all changed. I grew up a pinch that day, got a new perspective on some things. I can say that now, then I just felt wrong. I felt a lot of things like sadness and loss that I had thought I should not be feeling. It may be I was feeling the pain of growing up more acutely that day then before, I don't know.
I do know this. I like hunting and I have a healthy respect for all that entails. I think, looking back, that I just did not want to grow up, but deep down I knew that, at that moment, I did. I liked being a kid and in a lot of ways, i am just an older, bigger kid now. Hey, it is all part of the journey ya know? And in the end, that is just fine by me.
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