The Hunt: A true story:
The day was cold and damp and the sly wind plucked incessantly at the holes and tears in the young boys" old coat. His worn shoes provided little protection against the cold that seeped steadily up and into the bottoms.
They had steel toes which got cold and stayed cold unless he walked steadily and produced his own heat.
Why, there were times when he would sit and watch steadily for a buck to make an appearance, sitting cross-legged, shoes by his side, with his feet wrapped in the tails of his coat.
The wind moaned a little as it moved through the trees and kept most animals curled up in a warm, dry place.
This was the mid sixties and every boy went hunting the first day of buck season. Even the schools were closed that day. They learned that few would be there anyway, and truth be known, most of the teachers hunted too.
He had an old bolt action 20 gauge that while it might have been ok for squirrels and rabbits, was small solace in buck season.
He dreamed of the time when he could have a deer rifle of his own, a 30-30 or maybe even a thirty aught six.
But dreams they were and dreams they would be for a long time.
Money was scarce and so was meat, so a "Man" had better pay attention and hunt properly..
His red hair peeked out of the corners of the old toussle cap but at least his ears stayed warm.
The sun made an appearance slowly in the leaden sky and tried to make its presence felt. But, even if it made it through the clouds, experience taught him that scant warmth would follow.
He walked slowly and silently down out of the third field into the woods. There were Pines on the left side of the trail and mixed hardwoods on the right.
He took three or four steps, like his Uncle had taught him, then stopped and looked slowly around, both sides of the trail.
A flash of movement made him whip his head around to the right and he saw a Gray Squirrel swarm up an old White Oak and disappear into a knurled hole about half way up.
He shook his head disgustedly; If he couldn"t even surprise and old squirrel what chance did he have at spotting and stalking a buck deer..
He renewed his efforts at stealth, trying hard to ignore the random shots that rang out in the forest at intervals. "Someone was seeing deer" he thought enviously.
"I"m 14 years old and never even got a shot at a deer yet."
The trail wound farther into the woods through "Hundred Springs". Coming up from the left was another trail that met this one. He looked warily at the trail that came up from the deep hollow. He wanted to explore it and his Uncle told him where it came out, but he hadn"t worked up the nerve to tackle it yet.
But he knew he would.
His footsteps made no sound in the fallen pine needles and his pace slowed as he neared the top where the woods flattened out some"
Suddenly he felt rather than saw movement to the right. He slowly turned his head and saw something that turned his knees to jelly.
There, about 50 yards away, was a buck and a doe walking with great care towards him.
They stopped often and looked all about, especially back the way they came. He knew they had seen or heard someone back up the hill and were sneaking away. Suddenly they both stopped broadside form the boy at about 20 yards..
They still hadn"t seen him.
He raised the old shotgun slowly to his shoulder and stood with it aimed at the 6 point buck.. The doe stood slightly ahead of the buck, nose lifted, testing the breeze.
He slipped the safety off quietly and then simply froze"try as he might, he couldn"t squeeze the trigger; his excitement was just too great. The gun began to waver.
Then, with a loud snort the doe sprang away, the buck close behind.
As if that sound and motion had suddenly set him free, he swung the shotgun to the right and as it crossed the bucks" shoulder he pulled the trigger.
In an instant the deer were out of sight.
The boy listened with all his might for the sound of a heavy body falling in the leaves.
He did hear something, but was certain it was just the sounds of them departing.
His stomach was knotted and he felt sick. The first time he ever had a shot at a buck and he blew it, just like those guys they all made fun of who got "Buck fever".
Tears made his vision blur for a moment, and then he remembered what his Uncle had told him to do in this situation. Go over slowly and look closely for blood or hair..
He played the scene over in his mind then blocked it out just as quickly as shame washed hotly over him..
He bent over and looked over every inch of the ground the deer had been standing on right before he shot. He followed their tracks, even in the dirt and pine needles he could make out their impressions. They had been running and their sign was planted deep in the black earth..
But there was nothing else, only tracks.
Sick at heart he turned and walked slowly back down the trail. He just knew he would never have a chance like that again.
"If I only had a good gun with a scope I"d a got that buck", he thought fiercely. But times were tough and the family barely had money to meet the bills and feed everyone, little that it was at times.
After walking about 75 yards down the trail, he turned suddenly for some reason and walked right up the steep hill on the left, trying to keep as quiet as he could. He reached just below the top and quietly moved the leaves and debris from around the base and sat down disconsolately with his arms wrapped around his knees, still numb from disappointment.
After about ten minutes he heard a sound in the leaves below him.
A steady, but quiet sound.
Suddenly, he saw a brown body moving through the trees"
It was the buck and he was limping on his right side.
He didn"t know what to do, would he get another chance?
Directly below him, the buck stopped and looked right up the hill at the boy sitting frozen under the old White Oak.
His shotgun flew to his shoulder and , after some hesitation, the old silver bead settled right on the deer"s" neck.
The shotgun shattered the morning mist once again and after the kick of the gun settled, his eyes looked wildly down the hill and there the buck lay, lifeless..
What was it that drew the boy to that particular ridge, what act of providence gave him not one chance, but two at this buck?
A higher power perhaps.
He stood and rushed heedlessly down the steep hill, and then there it was. Beautiful even in death.
He counted the points and held the deer"s head up in disbelief. Then he stepped back and the silence of the woods was shattered once again with his shrill whoop of joy.
Sometime later two men who had been on stand above and to the side of the boy laughed as they related the story to his Dad.
He had never dressed a deer before but had cleaned many squirrels and rabbits, along with a few groundhogs.
And, after a few minutes of indecision, he took out his old knife and, for the first time, did a remarkably good job at it.
There was no rope, not even a pencil to make out the tag.
But, again, using knowledge his Uncle and Dad had provided, he used the soft lead of the bullet to print clumsily his name and the date on the large license, hands shaking with the cold and excitement.
After this, he took off his belt and tied it around the buck"s head and started dragging.
It took him two hours to drag the deer three hundred yards to the first field that overlooked the very small town he called home.
That buck weighed dang near as much as he did, more before he field dressed it.
He stood, exhausted, and cupping his hands on the side of his mouth, yelled an Indian war whoop that carried down into the town..
Several young kids heard him and yelled back what was the matter.
He hollered back, "I got a big buck and need help."
Within minutes the field was full of kids and several of his friends, who grabbed the buck everywhere and took off running down the field into the town.
They took it to his Uncles house, cause he had a nice big apple tree that he always hung his deer on.
The grin the small redheaded kid wore when the grownups straggled in for lunch stretched from ear to ear.
After much back slapping and inspection, they all allowed that it sure was a nice buck, for a first one anyway.
"Hell. His Unc" said, that"s a damn nice deer for any one." He put his arm around the boys" shoulders and said:
"You did good nephew."
And, his family ate well that winter".
Leep:
The Hunt: A True Story
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