THE GROUND GAME

 As that steaming turd ex-President Trump spins around in the filthy bowl that is Washington, refusing to go into a sewer clogged with fellow Republican politicians, I try to keep what's really important in focus--getting a bow shot at that big buck. Fuck Trump. Here's the latest:

Day One

    Yesterday I awoke before dawn to sweet butterfly kisses from Cheeky. I reached out in the dark hoping it was the right end of the cat that was delivering those moist little messages on my nose. Thankfully it was. Then the alarm went off. 4:45 am. Even with this unseasonably warm weather, frost covered the fields by the river and the temps were in the 30's. I got in the orchard stand while it was still dark. I was jazzed and hoping for that buck to appear. He didn't.

   At 11:00 I got out of the stand after seeing one doe, a grey squirrel and 'Merica our local bald eagle. I was getting fed up. Well into the rut and the lack of deer movement was putting me in a funk. I decided I needed to switch things up. This year I have a cross bow. The season opened on Saturday. Having a powerful new weapon in the tree (as I see nothing) wasn't helping. So I decided to try hunting from the ground.

    Ground hunting deer with a bow is next to impossible. But a crossbow can be fired easily from a sitting position and will reach out to fifty yards. It was worth a try. So I geared up in my best turkey hunting leafy camo- complete with full face mask- and went up the mountain to a spot Savage used to have a stand. I took along a folding stool and shooting stick. If I could find a good thicket or deadfall it could work. 

    By 2:30 pm I was set up in front of a stump, overlooking a swampy flat with pines and oaks scattered behind me heading down the hill. At 3:00 I head crashing behind me. Between the briars, holding me like a fly in a spider's web and a big pine deadfall blocking my view, it was tough seeing anything and next to impossible turning on the stool. About 75 yards out I saw movement. Before I could reach for the binocs I caught something moving just the other side of the hemlock deadfall behind me. It had horns. This buck was passing ten feet behind me, moving along the full length of the log. All I saw was his antlers- a small six pointer. My heart was beating out of my chest.

   I waited a few minutes for the deer to pass and tried to calm myself. He never spooked. Then I caught the flick of a tail in the spot that first drew my attention. The deer spun and ran down the hill. It was a giant buck!

    Slowly I extracted myself from the briar thicket and found a steady rest for the crossbow on a different log, now facing down the hill. As the afternoon wore on my head was on a swivel, scanning the woods. Nothing. Then, about fifteen minutes before the end of legal shooting time I heard something behind me (the direction I was originally facing). I cranked my neck around and spotted the big buck 30 yards in front of me (now behind me). Slowly I lifted the bow.......he was making a scrape. If I could just.....then the stool tipped slightly in the mud, a twig snapped and he was gone. If I had stayed put in my original position I would have had him. This is why I LOVE deer hunting. No matter how good you get, you'll never figure it out. Finally, I'm in the zone. I can't wait for tomorrow.