The Deer Hunt

Tweet

The Deer Hunt - Grown men rarely cry, I am right now thinking back to the first (and only) time I went deer hunting. The reason that I went on the hunt was to help a friend and fellow worker in his "romancing" of one of his business clients. The client was a real deer hunter as was my worker buddy. I had never before been one to want to shoot even an ugly animal, much less shoot pretty deer, but I did want to help my friend with his client. The deer hunt proceeded with me lagging behind - a really reluctant "Nimrod" was I. The weather was gray and drippy with light rain. The two avid hunters went on ahead on their hunt for deer while I sat down beneath a large Pin Oak tree to sit out the whole deal and to try to remain dry in the rain. As time went along, I could hear the popping of my companions deer rifles in the distance as the two of them got farther and farther away on the deer trail and from my sheltering oak tree. I almost went to sleep, to be honest about it. A noise. Wide awake with a start. Right before my eyes a small herd of deer walked by me as I sat there, Over a little hill they went and into the field behind it. Then I remembered that I had promised to bag a deer and give it to another friend, the friend who had loaned his beautiful hunting rifle to me for my first deer hunt. Now, I have to tell you that I can handle firearms very nicely - rifles, carbines, and even large caliber pistols, all courtesy of the military. Shooting range targets - yes. Deer critters - no. But there was this obligation to bring back deer meat for my rifle-providing buddy and his large family. So I got up off of my rump, climbed the little hill and put the rifle sights onto a large deer and, bango, down it went. One shot - one deer. As I looked down at the dead deer, I dropped some tears. It was not a good feeling to have downed so pretty a creature as that. Yes, I understand that the deer meat would feed my friend's family, but it made me sad to have pulled that trigger. Then, back came my hunting pals. I had by then returned to under the tree, still trying to stay dry. The fellow with whom I worked during the week began to give me a bad time. "Did you shoot a deer after we left you here?" And so it went. When he got through giving me a hard time about "no deer," I asked him about "his deer." He did not have one to show, nor did his would-be customer. That's when I asked him to come with me over the little hill to help bring "my deer" forth to be loaded onto the truck for our trip back home. I explained to him that "my deer" was too heavy for me to move by myself. But never again would I go deer hunting. I don't care how hungry I got or my friends might get. No more crying for me. image: Pin Oak Leaves - Gus Kilthau