Read the first part of this series here!
Cold leaves and dried mud crunched beneath our boots as we strode back to the Fiddler’s Green. After an exciting hunt yesterday, we decided it would be best to hunt the same stand one more time.
A tiny knot of uncertainty curled in my stomach as we neared the gray stand. I had passed on a potentially legal buck the night before and a legal doe hoping to see something this morning. Deer were never guaranteed at the family ranch, and my desire to prolong our hunting weekend might just backfire.
I had asked my husband, Court, what he would do if it were him.
He looked me dead in the eye and said, “if it were me, I would shoot the first legal deer that came out this morning. Doe, spike, buck, whichever came out first.”
My mind drifted back to the 2020 deer season, where we had hunted this same stand. I had been blinded by my own competitiveness and desire to get another big buck after harvesting a wall hanger the year before. We had hunted so many times that season at the family ranch, and I had passed on legal buck after legal buck while waiting on the legend of the ranch; Big Boy. And the longer I had waited, the less often he appeared on camera cards. After an entire season of horn hunting, all I had to show for it was plenty of pictures of legal deer and the sting of disappointment.
As I settled back into the dark stand, I made a pact with myself that I wouldn’t make the same mistake.
The grinding sound of corn shuffling out of the feeder erupted in the morning silence, startling both of us from our games of solitaire. I carefully lifted my binoculars up, ready to scout out anything that might be attracted by the sound of a feeder going off.
Deep down, I hoped that Sparky, the excited 8-pointer from the night before, would give us a better look this morning.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when a doe came running down the sendero. Her head drifted side to side, wary of any bucks that might be lurking nearby, but she quickly trotted out to the corn.
Court looked over at me, nodding to my rifle. “It’s up to you, but we’ve got a deer at the feeder now.” I considered the doe taking hesitant mouthfuls of corn at the feeder.
“I’ll give it 5 minutes.” He nodded and we both watched the doe in silence.
My mind was loud with a tumble of thoughts as I did the math.
On the one hand, I could wait for a large buck; Sparky could come back, and there was that elusive 9-pointer still out there. Another buck could appear; she had run in pretty quickly, so maybe she was being followed.
I thought back to every buck we had seen on this weekend with the rut in full effect; a nice 8-pointer, a broken-off 10-pointer…
And neither had been legal. And none of the bucks we consistently saw on the trail cameras were legal, either.
There were spikes of course, but we hadn’t seen any in several days even before the storm had scattered them to the wind. We had no way of knowing if there were any in the area.
I glanced at my watch; 3 minutes. Movement caught my eye at the feeder; the doe was getting antsy, looking around every few seconds as if she expected unwanted company at her breakfast. My anxiety mirrored hers, and I knew I couldn’t wait any longer.
“I’m going to do it,” I whispered while carefully maneuvering the rifle through the slot in front of me. The moment I put my eye to the scope, my heart immediately started pounding like a drum in my chest.
The day I don’t get a rush of adrenaline while aiming at an animal is the day I quit hunting.
I took deep breaths in an effort to calm my heart while waiting for her to turn more broadside; she quartered toward me as soon as she lifted her head, and I wasn’t ready.
With each passing moment, she grew more antsy. The doe leapt in and out of my scope as if she knew what was about to happen. “Just take your time, she’ll give you the shot,” Court whispered as he watched through his binoculars.
I took one more deep breath, mentally running through my shooting technique; wait until she’s broadside, keep the crosshairs on the shoulder, squeeze the trigger in one smooth motion, follow through on the shot. The moment she stepped broadside, I squeezed the trigger.
I watched her fall through my scope and the adrenaline rushed through my body again as I racked the chamber of my rifle and put the safety back on. A wave of relief washed over me as I sat back, smiling ear to ear at Court.
We exchanged a fist bump before starting to load up our gear in the deer stand.
When I finally was able to brush my hand over her, I felt immense gratitude for this animal. Even with a healthy deer population around the ranch, a harvest was never guaranteed. Just when you think you’ve found their pattern, deer seem to immediately change course. At the end of a weekend full of nasty weather and crazed bucks, I was grateful to have even harvested an animal.
More than anything, I felt that I had proved myself a mature hunter to me. Jess of two years ago would have let that doe walk. She would have waited, hoping and praying, for a deer that would never come and left empty-handed. There would be one less deer for the freezer, that many less meals for the coming year, and another chip on her shoulder going into the next season.
Ever since the 2020 deer season, when I held out for a legendary buck at the ranch, I have worked every year to hunt smarter. To focus on gratitude for the opportunities I’m given and take the chance to fill the freezer when it arrives.
Let’s be real; deep down, every hunter wants to come home with a huge, monster buck. It’s part of what draws into the woods every year, the quiet fantasy about the kinds of animals that dwell in the shadows of the trees.
And it’s okay to want to bring home a big ole buck with giant antlers and a great story.
For me, I find more fulfillment in bringing home meat for the freezer. To be able to bring food to family or friends and say, “I made this possible; I took that thing from the field and now I’m sharing it with you, providing for you.”
At the end of the day, there are so many valid reasons that people hunt and fish; to provide food for their families, to be out in nature, for the sport, to socialize, for the challenge, to grow as a person, to get away from the bustle of daily life, etc. I am proud and excited to have found one more reason to enjoy the outdoors and the opportunities it has to offer.
On this chilly, windy Sunday morning, I finally took the chance to do that.
Jess and the Outdoors 