In the Blink of the Season

Trout Whisperer

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  • Category Hunting Stories
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  • Prostaff Member Trout Whisperer

Today is the day after deer season. I can't sleep and I can't stay awake. Your standard issue case of deer lag. Pretty fuzzy this morning watching the sun come up. I have a cup of coffee and I’m watching the chickadees in my bird feeder. They are all abuzz with activity.

For the past 16 days I was, and now it's all over. It feels like it was sixteen minutes.
My daughter got a real nice doe on the opening weekend and the weekend following I got a buck. We hunted with friend's at our new deer shack and we were invited to neighbors farms to try and knock back some of the local deer herds.

No matter what afternoon stand I sat in, I always got a heart start with some crunching sounds in the forest. More often than not it was a mole or vole directly under my lofted perch. I still have no idea how to tell a mole from a vole. Red squirrel's, chickadees or ravens were the most consistent visitors to the deer woods this fall. Movement, noise, or a flap, flap, float, overhead, but any sense of mine alerted to something other than a deer and I checked it out.

We never got a big snow or cold blast. The weather was awesome for still hunting or sitting in a stand. We kicked up snowshoe hares half white in anticipation of snow that has not arrived yet. Ruffed grouse would putt about like they new we held deer rifles.

Each morning fresh new arrowed cuts in the mud showed overnight deer had been walking are logging trails and that just amps you up.

The night my daughter and I turned the buck, from whitetail buck into venison, we stopped to smell the roses. We got out a skillet and sautéed some venison tenderloins. Olive oil and onions with a touch of tomato and green pepper, it was delicious.

I cooked, my daughter made cookies. We ate Scrambled eggs and fried potatoes, lunches with cold meatloaf sandwiches and dinners full of kettles of spaghetti. Hot chocolate, pots of coffee or sodas to wash a deer seasons food down with. I have pockets full of candy bar wrappers from leftover Halloween trickery treats.

Stories now fading, slipping into a mental wherever Ville from the wood stove at the cabin, playing cribbage at night by the fireplace or leaning back on a log chewing crisp apples and my buddy unwraps one of those ….you remember that time over at…….and off we went to remember a favorite, from hunts gone by.

Downstairs today a lot of blaze orange will get a much needed laundering. Hunting boots will be tucked to the back of the big closet. Shells put back in boxes where they’ll sit for another year. One less shell.

Posted by Trout Whisperer under Hunting Stories on January 11, 09 11:28 AM | Permalink

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