Sunday, October 13, 2013


 It's not exactly cold out, but it has cooled enough to sit in a tree without sweating. Nonetheless, it doesn't make much sense to hunt any other times but early morning and late afternoon. Getting up early has been a problem, so I try to hit the woods by 4pm. And so far I've seen very little.
   Yesterday I took the day off from working the shul and drove down to Diamond Dave's to see if he wanted to go and check out buying a bow. DD is a natural shot. He had borrowed supermodel Hollie Witchey's bow at a party and was hitting the bull pretty good. He was hooked. I knew it wouldn't take much convincing to get him to purchase a new toy. Of course, first we had to capture the cow. Rosey had jumped the fence again. An hour later Pigpen and a bucket of feed coaxed her back in the paddock. Done. Lets go shopping. Dave wanted me to drive his Porsche. Surprisingly, I declined.  What followed was a white knuckled ride to Woodborne, DD at the wheel. I swear we caught air numerous times. Next time I'll drive.
   As we pulled up to the bow shop, a half dozen woodchucks and a DEC officer eyeballed us in the expensive sports car. Dollar signs flashed in all their eyes. Turned out the DEC cop was there because of a dispute between the shop's owner and a deer loving neighbor, who liked to walk the property line with a flashlight, shooting a .22 every 10 feet. What is it with neighbors? No matter where you live, your closest neighbor is likely to be an asshole. Let me testify to this fact. But that's another story.
   As DD is new to the archery game, he kept deferring to me in the bow buying process. Remembering Irish Liz's admonishments, as we pulled out of the driveway, I kept steering Dave towards the lower end product- much to the salesman's dismay. More than once he mentioned the shiny black Porsche in the same breath as the $1000 bow. Then, the guy picked up a moderately priced bow, looked at me for approval, and asked "OK Dad?" DAD! That's it. I'm keeping my mouth shut. You're on your own, son.

  After all the fun with DD, I got in the woods around 4:30pm. I decided to hunt Majestic. I had hung a stand late in the season last year and never really had a chance to hunt it. The wind was out of the east, perfect for this spot. About 5:00 pm I spotted a doe down wind. She stopped raised her nose and bounded off. My clothes were clean, sprayed down, as was I. Still, she scented me. This is always the problem. I stink. Then, around 5:45 pm I heard a crunch behind me. Slowly I turned and spotted a deer, head down, munching on acorns. It was a buck. I counted points. 1-2-3....on one side- legal. It was a smallish six pointer. I had no shot, so I waited. If he moved around the tree and didn't spook......
   Slowly I rose to my feet. The buck looked right at me. I froze. Then he lowered his head again, and kept eating. A few more steps and I'd have him......Then, as i thought of Shewho's birthday party next Sat., and how much she wanted venison, a little voice crept into my head. It was Savage Lynch's. "No brow tines. You oughta let him walk. He'll be a nice one next year.... It's early in the season. Wait for a doe." And Goddamnmit that little voice won out. I never drew back the string. Over 20 minutes that buck presented me with numerous shot opportunities. And in the end i passed. In one day I refused driving a $175,000 Porsche and let a six point buck walk. What the hell is wrong with me?      


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