Heavy thoughts, heavier heart

     The SUV comes to rest in the same muddy ruts from last week’s excursion into Kentucky. I hop out of the driver’s seat, throw on my pack, grab my recurve and start my hike under cloudy skies…More mud and slop from recent rains and 60 degree temps. Sure doesn’t feel like deer season or Christmas for that matter.

     I shimmy up the Ash tree, buckle in and wait…But this evening’s sit is restless. Normally, the woods works her magic on me and takes me to another place, but not this time. This is too deep. Too heavy…Like everyone else, my mind is on Newtown and any minor problem that I usually bring out here in the trees seems trivial at best.

     How? Why? What would cause someone to commit such a horrible act? I want answers! I’m sad, I’m angry, I’m frustrated. I want a piece of the coward’s flesh! My mind has a million questions and I catch myself wandering how I would react to such a tragedy. How would I react as a father? How would I react as a police officer? Could I keep it together or would I fold like a house of cards? I try to concentrate on the woods and the hunt and for a time, I get lost among the trees and the wind, but the news reports and media attention that has bombarded us for the last 48 hours creeps back in…

     My thoughts race as I search for reason and answers in my head, but none are found. The snap of a twig brings me back to the present as a doe and a yearling cross the logging road to my right. My shoulder tenses, but I don’t even lift my bow as the gals pass over the ridge.

    Before long, I’m back to trying to make sense of the incident and I go over scenario after scenario in my head. I question myself and my agency’s own policies. I close my eyes and subconsciously go over the layout of our local schools. Each entrance, each classroom. Lockdown procedures and emergency plans. I bounce back and forth from father mode to police mode as I continue to look for answers…

     Darkness is falling and it’s time to climb down and make my long walk out. Along the way, it strikes me that we can’t make sense of the senseless. I’m sure in weeks to come; there will be plenty of blame spread around by all the arm chair quarterbacks and political pundits. It will be “The police could have done more or the school should have had a better safety plan” or “It’s the gun’s fault and a 2^nd Amendment issue” or “it’s a failure of the mental health system in our country.”

     It’s a long, somber, dark drive back to Switzerland County…

     Try as I might, I had a difficult time tying this week’s article in, but then I thought of an old quote that goes something like this; “Take a boy hunting, and you’ll never have to hunt for a boy”. Parents, spend time with your kids. Love them, hug them. Listen and talk…cherish them and savor every moment.

     

Now or never...

     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...