Deer Season
By Robert Mariner, East Sierra Branch
Honest, I really didn’t mean to cause an interstellar incident.
Hunting season had just opened, and I’d purchased a tag for one mule deer, minimum three points per side. So I was up in the hills near Medicine Lake, in Northern California. Usually pretty good deer up there, and the venison tastes of the sagebrush those deer seem to eat a lot of – nice flavor.
I’m not one of those wacko idiots who seem to shoot at anything moving, regardless of what color or shape it might be. So I tend to wear a bright International Blaze Orange vest and cap when moving in those woods. When I’m moving. You can see that color several miles away, if you have a clear sightline. Then I’ll climb a tree at least ten or twelve feet up, set up my blind, pull the camouflage rig around me, and settle in for a long wait. I’ve stayed up in such a tree for over 24 hours straight, but don’t recommend it.
Anyway, there I was, comfortable, nice and warm, watching and listening for any sign anything might be wandering past, and mid-afternoon along came the sounds of a deer’s careful, watchful movement. Not in a really optimal direction for how I was set up, so I had to move a little. Did that nice and slow, trying to conceal my noises as being related to the gentle breeze that was stirring the pine I’d chosen for today’s hunt.
That care and caution paid off; pretty soon there came a nice hatrack – that’s a deer with at least five points per side on his antlers. Wise, wary, alert – for ground threats. Seems he’d never learned to look for threats up in a tree, but then most of the mountain lions have been eradicated from these woods, too bad.
Anyway, I waited for him to come close enough so the ’scope on my .30-06 rifle would be properly set for range. I didn’t want to spook him with the soft little “click – click – click” of the ’scope’s range knob being adjusted. Waited some more as he nibbled on some brush and slowly ambled down the hillside, peaceful as can be and wary as hell.
At about 115 yards I settled the ’scope on him, started concentrating on the shot. For a moment it seemed there was an odd blurring, probably just my eye. Anyway, he stopped, looking in my direction. Something seemed to be taking all his attention, but he was broadside to me, the lighting was perfect, there was no wind to speak of, and the range was close enough.
I eased the rifle’s safety off, took half a breath and let it partially out, held it, gently squeezed the trigger.
And missed.
Well, no. I missed the deer. But I bagged something closer that it was impossible for me to have recognized at that time.
You ever see the movie, Predator?
Yeah, one of them.
Oops.
Read more by and about Robert Mariner at
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/RobertM256
and on his website http://therefugeconfederation.com/.