PRE-RUT

Minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, week by......it's been bad. No deer. Not only no bucks but no movement. A doe here, a spike there, one half way decent buck down at Ray Gilkey's, but other than that- nothing. I have good spots, plenty of acorns, even rubs and scrapes, but up until tonight you'd think the whitetail had gone extinct. The wind has been nonstop for two weeks. Just like my old man, I hate the wind. So, otherwise pleasant afternoons in the tree are swaying irritation. Add to that the complete lack of action and I'm starting to think I may be all wrong in my approach to time well spent. I'm starting to think i should go back to work. Man, things are bleak.

But as I alluded, tonight it changed. I went in early (around 2pm) down at GNJohn's. This stand has one of the most beautiful panoramic views you could imagine. A high pine and hardwood ridge spills onto mowed fields. My stand is on the edge of an old orchard on the edge of a swamp, that empties into a stream bed cut through the mowed fields. This is framed by one of the best trout rivers on the east coast. You'd think I'd kill a buck every day. But that's not the deal. The doubt sets in. What a spot! I must be doing something wrong. I stink. I somehow emit the smell of failure. Didn't Savage always shoot big bucks here? Then I turn around and there's a doe right in the path about 70 yards. I slowly lift the bow and get ready. Fuck the bucks. Daddy needs meat.

I wait....and wait. The doe lazily munches the grass and comes no closer. It starts to snow. It's cold as hell and my fingers are frozen. The doe behind me disappears back in the brush and i settle back in, hurrying the sunset. The best time, the most exciting, prime time of the afternoon is right before dark. And it's the hardest time to stay focused. You are bored, cold, pissed off that you may have just wasted another....when the deer start to come off the hill. This is the time it may happen, but your neck hurts, you can't feel your finger tips and you have to take a leak. Then right underneath my stand there's a spike. Then a doe. I reach for the bow. They play kissy face and move out to the field. Before I know it there's a bigger buck coming from the river. I grunt. He stops and slowly comes my way.......

Dexter's on gotta go.