LOCKDOWN

   Why am I here writing this at 7:32 am instead of sitting in a tree on Nov. 25th? It's not only the human herd that have suffered these past months with disease. Many hunters in the the Orange County deer woods are seeing nothing but grey squirrels and bluejays during long sits in tree stands. The EHD virus hit this county hard in August and September. Farmers were finding deer corpses floating in irrigation ponds and fields, while after one tropical storm dumped a lot of rain, hundreds of rotting deer bodies jammed the dam in Wallkill. It is a tragedy that will take years to recover from. But neither Covid nor EHD is why I don't have my boots on this morning. It's Milawyer.

    This time of year Milawyer blows up from the south like a cloud of EHD spreading midges. His timing was perfect. Carrying a pizza and a good bottle of whiskey, when he first appeared he walked right by the big buck laying in the back of my pickup. But after some pleasantries and a few drinks, he helped me hoist that buck into the tree. The blood he got on his garments and transferred to the creamy interior of his Land Rover was evidence of a visit to my house. Last night I cooked up some backstrap from that buck and Milawyer brought another bottle of Irish. We got down to the real business of deer season- consuming venison, drinking and talking nonstop.

    Any year would be a good year to see Milawyer and have a venison feast. But, as we all know 2020 is different. For his family and mine it is the loss of his mother, the family matriarch, Georgia last week that takes precedent. Georgia didn't die of Covid, but in her 90's, the years naturally caught up with her. The hours after sunset this deer season have been filled with Savage (Milawyer's brother), Milawyer and I raising our glasses filled to the brim in honor of Georgia. My arm is stiff from clinking glasses, my eyes are blurry and my head feels like Cheeky crawled up my nostrils and went to sleep. If I managed to climb a tree this morning only the harness could've kept me from falling out. The deer are safe. A little Irish in my coffee? Why not. Here's to ya Georgia!

    The other reason I wasn't too concerned to miss the morning hunt is because not only are the humans encouraged to go into another Covid lockdown during the holidays, the deer are doing the same. The rut is all but over. If a doe is still in estrus the big bucks have them so tied up in"tending" they can't move. This rapey buck behavior is common the first week of gun season. The first couple of days of the Orange Army traipsing over the hills stirring up the deer woods with gunshots, is always followed by the lockdown. Now you are lucky to see a deer. They don't move unless bumped. I'm not missing much.

   So here's to Georgia....again! She was my mother's best friend, a kind of second mother to all us Ostis. A few weeks back her daughter G. Lee loaded her into Georgia's Mercedes and drove her up the mountain to see the colors of the trees one last time and say goodbye to Paradise Pond. They stopped by the church for a short visit. Georgia and I grabbed each other's hand and didn't let go for ten minutes, as we chatted about nothing but the blue sky and falling, yellow leaves. It was a fitting farewell and a memory I will cherish the rest of my life. 

    The sun is coming out. Maybe this afternoon a good buck will be on his feet. I can dream. My head is beginning to clear. Now, if my hands will only stop shaking. It's still great to be in the woods and always good to see Milawyer, as the lockdown (both deer and human) continues...