HIT LIST

 I've never had so many shooters on my list so early in the season. In years past I was lucky to have seen a decent buck by now. As of this morning I have three good bucks in my hunting territory: Fang, Ten O'Clocker (so named because I've seen him three times at 5:45 in three different places) and High Top (this morning's high eight). All these deer are eight or better and most likely four-year-olds. Less than two weeks before the shooting starts and the woods fill with orange, the clock is ticking.

   I'm lucky to be old, poor and have all day to hunt. The weather has been perfect. After a horribly wet summer and early fall, the days are now bluebird perfect, chill mornings and warm afternoons. The rut is kicking it and a hot doe could bring in a shooter at any moment. If I could live on adrenalin I'd have a full larder by now. Because of nosey neighbors and the fact that the DEC reads this blog (I suspect for the photos) the legal team at HWS has advised that I keep some encounters to myself.  Ergo the last redacted blog. I'll tell you everything at the end of the season.

    As for my other hunting buddies.....Milawyer is putting more time in the courtroom in retirement than he was when he was working. He may not even show up for gun season. UB is still working the farm cutting corn and I've heard no report from him. Bird doesn't bow hunt and Savage, after losing sight in his right eye, killing  a ten point shooting left handed last year, his body is betraying him with aches, pains and fatigue. But that is not keeping him out of the tree with the X bow. Savage has one eye and UB one arm. Neither is slowed by physical limitations. Until Nov. 20th  we have the woods to ourselves. So far Savage spotted a giant pile of bear shit in his backyard. He's excited. Every morning we hit the woods. Every evening more reports come in.

   Savage is over 70 and the rest of us are very close behind him. I take three aspirin every morning just to get up the mountain and climb in the stand. Still, we are all hardcore about the hunt. I feel very blessed that with all the damage I've done to my body with drugs and alcohol I can still walk upright, let alone move stands and strap myself in at twenty feet above the ground. Most times I get a shot off. Like art, it's a solitary affair. I've admitted it many times - I'm not a people person. Even my friends are annoying. It's not their fault. It's me not them. But put me in a tree stand, or a ground blind, a frost covered field in front of me and the sound of crunching leaves coming from behind and my heart quickens. I'm alive, a happy man up to the challenge. Now if I could just kill a deer.