The Last Walk

 

  When the alarm went off at 4:30 a.m. on Wednesday of the final week of late muzzleloader season, I rolled over and hit the snooze button. After lying in bed for a few minutes and staring at the ceiling, I made my way to the bathroom and looked into the mirror. I just wasn't feeling it, but I also knew I should probably take a short hike before the snow consumed the sky and made driving unsafe. I would be able to retrieve a few things I had left in the woods, and I might see some sign that could help me next season. After all, I had limited time to hunt this year due to work obligations and life's priorities getting in the way. 

  Well, the man looking back at me in the mirror shuffled his way back to the side of the bed, pulled the covers aside and climbed back into the cozy spot waiting for him. Was there really any reason to go to the woods three days after filling a tag on the last afternoon of the Northern Zone rifle season?

  I stared at the ceiling and felt uneasy about wasting the last day I would be able to venture into the land no one knows better than me and allow myself to get lost within my soul before hanging my gear up and calling it a year. 

  Getting to my parking spot shortly before daylight, I figured I would still-hunt until the snow started. Then, I would make a circle and return to my truck. Of course, those plans were made around the forecast, and we all know forecasts aren't too terribly accurate these days. 

  As I began walking, cold, damp air made its way across my teeth, into my throat and briskly found itself in my lungs. The sudden chill inside my ribcage permeated throughout my body and gave me a gentle reminder that I was just another predator of the forest, nothing more and nothing less. 

  Coming upon the first stream I had to cross, I paused and looked at the glistening snow. Ice had created smooth snow globes across a handful of rocks in the middle of the fast-moving water, while some others on the banks had a more pure look. 

  Then one boot entered the water while the other searched for a dry landing spot without ice. A few seconds later, nothing more than a faint roar could be heard from the stream. Moving quickly, I began seeing deer tracks heading in and out of the swamp and back and forth between the ridges. A glimmer of hope slowly traveled from my eyes into the depths of my mind. Today would be the day. Although the thought only caught hold of me for a mere second (or maybe even less), it came from an unseen voice in the forest. Acknowledging the voice but not interacting with it, I continued my journey. 

  The snow was quiet beneath my Kennetrek boots. Before long, I had covered about a mile of relatively flat, swampy land. While there were quite a few tracks, I still hadn't seen much that interested me or made me want to change my plans. Knowing  the ridges in front of me usually held a lot of deer during late muzzleloader season, I slowed to crawl. 

After scaling a short, steep hill, I stopped under a hemlock. Letting my eyes search for any odd-looking horizontal figure, I felt an urge to keep moving. After assuring myself nothing was nearby, I headed into a heavy hemlock grove to see nothing more than the tracks of what appeared to be a doe and two fawns. 

  In and out of thought, some of which had nothing to do with hunting, I worked my way toward one of my favorite places. This place has welcomed me at my best and given me inner peace at my worst. It has always had a way of comforting me, so I tip-toed across the snow that had been dug up by deer searching for food. With a busy mind and all sorts of random thoughts, I needed my place to comfort me on this morning. I sought solace and hoped I could find it under the hemlock that has been standing longer than I've beeb alive. Would the unanswered thoughts in my mind take hiding, or would the demons tugging at my collar bring me beneath the snow and into another realm? I had no idea, but I knew the answers could be found under the tree I became friends with during early adolescence. 

  Seeing my tree on the side of the hill, the hint of a smile created dimples on my cheeks, and a warm sensation raced from head to toe. Suddenly, my heart leapt into my throat and my breath became shallow. Two sparring deer shown easily against the snow about 75 yards in front of me. Pulling the binoculars to my eyes, I scanned the immediate area to make sure I wasn't missing anything else. Then, focusing on the sparring deer, I identified two small bucks. 

  Without hesitation, I pulled the hammer back and decided I would take one of them in an attempt to break my muzzleloader streak of unfortunate incidents I've encountered over the last few years. Applying steady pressure on the trigger, I never stopped staring at the front shoulder until I could no longer see it due to the cloud of smoke that erupted in front of me... I knew I had made a perfect shot, though. 

  When the smoke cleared, the buck was running straight at me. Handcuffed and no time to reload, I watched the deer jump over a log and come to a stop no less than 10 yards away. As he stood and scanned the woods, I couldn't believe I didn't hit him. Then, he took one step forward and tipped over. 

  My last walk of the year brought me in and out of childhood, through adolescence and into the present. With shaking legs and a racing heart, I stood above the smallest deer I've killed in over 20 years, and I was just as satisfied as I've ever been with some of the giants I've been fortunate enough to put on the ground. 

  This deer reminded me what hunting is all about. In my search for big antlers and having unlimited time to hunt over the last 25 years, I lost sight of the roots of hunting and the reasons that bring me to the woods day after day, season after season and year after year. 

  Securing the rope around its antlers and beginning my drag, the gentle snow quickly enveloped the sky and took no time letting me know that Mother Nature has no favorites and can bring fury with her no matter the events being celebrated. 

  A few hours later, I got the deer into the back of my truck. Clothes soaked and hat sopped, I could feel the melting snow running down my back and into the crease at the base of my spine. Drenched, exhausted and sore, I celebrated the journey that took me to that moment... the circle of life. Just as I used to be ecstatic with any deer I was able to kill, I felt the same on this day, and I realized that is why I truly hunt. I hope you al had a fantastic hunting season. I did in the limited amount of time I was able to spend in the woods. 

  My last walk of 2025 brought me back to my first walk as a deer hunter. I'm glad I got out of the warm bed and braved the bad weather. Every step of the walk was more rewarding than anything of experienced in the deer-hunting woods in decades.