We awoke at 4:30 AM, rustled about for something to eat and we got our gear ready. It was the opening day of Connecticut rifle season. In the Nutmeg State, you need written permission to hunt deer or turkey on private land. We have been hunting this little farm for several years and we have been blessed with great success at this place. I cannot think of a year when we didn't get a deer.
Dad and I drove through the windy roads of Windham County discussing politics and other things of life. We made some plans as to when to do a radio check. I told Dad I am shooting anything that is legal.
We arrive at the small farm and park next to the cattle gate. We put on our safety harnesses for the treestands,check our day packs, and sling our rifles.
We cross the pasture and go to the laurel patch. We use our flashlights to see in the foggy morn as well as advertize to people who may stray across the line that the early morning movement is men, not deer.
We wish each other luck and split up. I slowly walk to the west where my stand is about 15 feet up a medium ized maple tree overlooking a hillside with a swampy brook. They seem to walk through that spot. It is a natural funnel.
I climbed into my stand, secured the carabiner to the static line and began the wait. I have noticed that the deer seem to come through between 8:00 AM and 9:00 AM or so. This time, they were early. It seems that a group of does were bedded about 75 yards from me. They assumed it would be a safe spot for them. They must have winded me as some bolted. One veered off to the left and I placed the crosshairs of the Leupold on it's chest. A squeeze of the trigger let loose a 180 grain Core-Lokt spirepoint from the Model 700 30-06. She took off and disappeared in the laurel. I called Dad on the radio and he came over. We found the deer. It went about 50 yards and dropped.
I dragged it through the laurel tangles and brook. What a workout. My heart was pounding and sweat pouring off me like a foundry worker. I am a tad out of shape as well as this weather isn't November. It is far too warm. It was near 60 and I dressed more for it being 40.
I wished I was able to get another shot but it wasn't meant to be. My Dad spotted a chocolate colored deer. He doesn't look for antlers so when I asked, he just shrugged his shoulders. That is fine by me,we hunt for meat.
We contemplated the deer. I always pray when I hunt, believe it or not. I sometimes feel more with God in the outdoors than I do in a crowded church. As we dressed the deer at the rock, a leaning glacial erractic we so eloquently named, my Dad made a great comment. " We can't complaint too much. We can't be greedy. We got a deer. I know we could have had maybe three deer, but there are a lot of guys who will be going home today with nothing. We still have the rest of the season to hunt."
He made a very wise and cogent point. I was thinking of filling out all my tags as well as the freezer but we have been blessed with this deer. We have one buck in the freezer and now a big doe. It dressed out at 120 pounds and the biologist stated she was a 2 1/2 years old.
We decided to call off hunting this afternoon. It is warmer than normal and I really want to skin and butcher this gift of meat. It would be a shame to let it spoil. We have a lot to be thankful for.
