Sunday, December 8, 2024

   I woke up this morning to fresh snow and was a little disappointed. I figured the snow would be hanging on the trees and the deer wouldn't be moving much. I also wasn't looking forward to walking out of the woods at sunset with an unfilled tag for the first time in my hunting career. Although I knew I had passed a handful of good bucks, I also knew it would still sting a little, especially knowing I should've killed the really nice 8-pointer early in the season when I had the chance. 

  As Dad and I drove down the road, we didn't talk. The silence gave both of us a few minutes to gather our thoughts before heading into the woods. It was in the high teens but felt a little colder than that. After parking the truck and gathering our gear, it felt no different than all the other days we have hunted together. However, I knew that another rifle season in the Adirondacks would come to a close at the end of the day, and with every passing year, it means we are a year older. I often wonder if I have killed the last deer I will ever kill. I'm not sure how or why that thought enters my mind as often as it does, but it does. 

  Walking into the woods, I had a tentative plan, but it wasn't 100 percent secured in my mind. After an hour's walk, I arrived at the first choice I had sketched into my game plan. Standing in the darkness, I thought long and hard about what I thought would produce the best results. Then, without any hesitations, I put my pack on the ground and began changing out of my sweaty clothes. I would stay there for the day. The voice spoke to me... I heard it... and I listened. 

  The woods stayed gray after it got light, and the dampness could be felt from head to toe. Settling into the place where I was sitting, I felt excited. An hour into the sit, something made me think to look over my left shoulder. When I took a glance, I could see a nice buck slowly picking its way through some saplings. 

 Quickly looking out in front of him, I tried to pick a hole he might walk through. After finding one, I put the crosshairs on him and kept them trained to the shoulder as he walked. If he became alert, I would touch one off. However, if he continued walking, I would wait until he came into an opening on the hill below me and take the shot. 

  When his front shoulder appeared in the hole, I squeezed the trigger. The loud noise broke the silence of the morning, and the reaction from the buck told me I had made a good shot. I quickly gathered my gear and walked to where he was standing when I shot. I found a few spatters of blood and a handful of hair. 

  After following his tracks for about 30 yards, I saw where blood had begun pouring onto the freshly fallen snow and the white snow had turned red. Then, I saw a tree plastered with blood, and the deer was just beyond it in the snow. I had filled my tag. 

  Dad met me at the fallen deer, and we briefly celebrated our successful hunt. We've done this many times over the years, but it seems a lot different now than it did back when we started. After snapping some pictures, Dad decided to continue hunting while I took care of the deer and dragged it out. 

  I took my time getting out of the woods and enjoyed every second of the drag. This season beat me, both mentally and physically, so I tried to take it all in on my last trip out of the woods in the north country for the year. 

  I felt great to end on a good note after experiencing so many challenging things this year in life and during hunting season.