Despite all the obstacles that get
in our way, the two of us still managed to make time to be in the
woods. We walked back through the edge of the field along the Grant's
Creek bottoms, steep hillsides jutting up out of the valley. The
evening air was cold and crisp, typical late November weather in our
part of the country. We sneaked along the trail, trying to avoid
crunching the fallen sycamore leaves covering the ground and giving
us away to our quarry.
Climb up and settle in for the
evening watch. Close quarters as our shoulders bump one another while
we hope and wait for a buck to make his appearance. This hunt will be
the last of the year for she and I together as the life of an active
high school girl and her Dad's hectic schedule rarely mesh...The
breeze is cool as she pulls the knit cap down over her ears and tucks
her hands up the sleeves of her camouflage coat...I close my eyes and
I'm instantly reminded of a time when she was bundled up head to toe
in the winter, toboggan headed, mittens on her delicate hands and a
scarf covering her face as she played out in the cold as a little kid
and I silently smile to myself...
We passed the time watching the
birds and listening to the rustling of the leaves in the wind,
occasionally our ears playing tricks on us as we'd strain to hear
something making its way towards our hiding spot. We talked a little
about sports and her future, colleges and dorm rooms, friendships
growing and friendships fading as she navigates her way through life.
I shared a few words of advice and offered up experiences from my
youth, but mainly, I just sat and listened as she whispered...
Light was fading fast and
darkness will be crashing in soon. Now is the time, that witching
hour that all hunters are familiar with. Something snaps us to
attention as limbs rattle and twigs break... I jerk my head to the
right, hoping to see a buck heading our way, but to my surprise, it's
a Cooper's Hawk that has swooped in and captured a squirrel in his
talons. He sits on a low limb picking at his meal and as he attempts
to fly off, he drops the squirrel's lifeless body and flies up the
creek, out of sight. We look at each other in disbelief and then get
back to the task at hand...
Just as I'm about to to throw
in the towel for her season, there's hope as a doe pokes her head out
of the brush and then trots into the field, looking over her
shoulder. I tell her to get ready and there he is...A young buck in
pursuit of a potential lady friend. The doe passes our stand, but the
buck decides to take a moment and gorge himself on some clover before
courting the doe... Darkness is now our enemy as the light gets
lower. I whisper to her that it's now or never as she kneels down in
the stand to get a good rest for her rifle. Solid and steady, she
pulls the hammer back with a click and lines up the sights. I
unconsciously hold my breath and wait. Her thin finger squeezes the
trigger and the .44 reports and echoes it's shot down the holler
towards the Ohio. The buck falls in his tracks, the shot perfectly
placed.
We make our way to her deer,
smiling and replaying the moment over and over and as she grabs hold
of the young bucks antlers and I snap a few photos, I can't help but
feel blessed to have had this time to share with my daughter and for
the bond that we have. The size of the buck's antlers were of no
consequence to me, as the memory is the trophy of a lifetime in my
eyes...
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