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Wild Game Hunting

Edmond P. DeRousse November 29, 2018 at 9:19 am

   

A friend of mine talked me into getting up at 3:00 a.m. on a snowy Saturday morning and go hunt deer with a bow and arrow. Three in the morning with snow on the ground is different. I am not a hunter and did not really want to go but CJ insisted on me going. She was going shopping with her mother anyway and I had not seen Warren in a long time.
A bow and arrow. I was going to hunt a deer with only a piece of string and a stick. I must be insane. That didn’t seem to be much of a challenge…..for the deer.
I had heard all the deer stories. The ones about the hunter sitting in a tree waiting hours and hours for the four legged critters to walk by. Then these four legged creatures would cooperatively stand and wait underneath the tree for someone to shoot them. They must be really stupid animals.
I was worried about this hunting experience, though, because I don’t have that kind of luck. I knew I was going to encounter the genius deer.
I must not have been oozing with confidence because this is really what I was thinking. “That deer was going to go back to his home and tell the family how he bagged a human who was trying to bag him with a stick and some string. I’m going to be the source of their amusement for years to come every time they see my head mounted on their wall.”
I did not share my concern with my hunting buddy, Warren, for obvious reasons.
Those of you who do enjoy deer hunting, Don’t get too upset with me. I really do believe deer aren’t smart enough to do what I just suggested. It’s just that when it comes to hunting, I am not too sure about my own capabilities. I, personally, have a problem understanding sitting in a tree in freezing weather and waiting for deer to come within shooting range.
Anyway, the place where we were going to do our hunting was just a few miles out of town. When we arrived there, Warren gave me a bow and an arrow.   One arrow. Just how good did he think I was?
I found out later, Warren was not entirely truthful with me about us hunting deer.
He walked with me to the edge of some farmer’s empty field that boarded a wooded area. Warren pointed out a tree and told me to park myself there and wait for him to return. He had seen some deer tracks and he wanted to check them out. I did as I was told and parked myself under the designated tree.
The only thing on my mind after Warren was out of sight was that “genius deer”. I knew it was in there, just waiting for the right moment.
A few minutes later, though, I found myself enjoying the awesome sunrise taking shape before my eyes. I was mesmerized by all the reds, oranges, and purples running into one another.
Suddenly, the silence was rudely interrupted by a rustle in the woods behind me. Immediately, my heart stopped and a lump materialized in my throat.
I was brought back to reality.
There had to be something in the woods, behind me. It had to be that genius deer. He was in there waiting on me and my stick. It was only a matter of time now before I would become a trophy.
I carefully placed my arrow onto the bowstring. I wanted to make sure I had a fighting chance and with all the courage I could muster I turned around to face my doom…….. No deer. Yet I knew he’s out there, lurking, waiting for just the right moment. I heard something again.
I’m deer hunting. It had to be a deer.
I don’t know how long I had been standing there, facing into the woods, poised with my bow and arrow, when Warren showed up laughing so hard he could scarcely walk. Evidently, he had planned this practical joke. He knew there would be no deer but lots of forest creature noises and that I would be easy prey (pardon the pun) for his practical joke.
There was something in his family history he had neglected to tell me until we were back in the car and driving home. Warren was John Smith’s cousin. The same John Smith I had taken Snipe hunting a few years before.
For those of you who are uninformed, Snipe hunting, for the intended victim, is a similar hunting experience to what I just had. Except, Snipes are fictitious birds.
Apparently, John had shared that story with his cousin Warren. The two of them concocted this hunt and were to have a laugh about it later at my expense.
I guess you could say John did get the last laugh. All I know is even after all these decades I still remember how frightened I was.
Most likely it was a bird I heard in the tree behind me. The human brain can sure conjure up imaginary things if the conditions are made right.
I think hunting deer have pretty much scarred me for life. I would rather pitch a tent, build a fire, and cook my hamburger. It’s much more relaxing.

 

 

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