Conference vmsnet::hunting$note:hunting

757.0. "A November Morning." by WJOUSM::PAPPALARDO () Thu Sep 13 1990 20:18

    It was 4am on a mid-November morning in Northern New-Hampshire. As i
    washed out my coffee cup, i was wondering how the day's events would
    unfold. The last 14 days seemed to go by more quickly than i had hoped
    and getting up from bed these last couple of days were getting more
    difficult than the first few.
    
    As i crept out of the cabin and onto the porch, i could feel the ice
    cold air suddenly in my lungs-feeling like i've inhaled freon, i put my
    rifle over my shoulder and pulled up my collar, putting my gloveless
    hands into my coat pockets i just stood for awhile to get my eyes
    acustomed to the darkness of the early morning.
    I could hear the faint splashing of the lake and chirping of chickadees
    who will probably keep me company thru-out the day,and the whisper of
    the day wind seemed to be picking up as well.
    
    As i began the trek towards the ridge where i would spend the day, i
    thought of past hunts and where the white-tail has taken me. I
    remembered when i was young, not to say i'm old now, but lets just say
    i'm more seasoned. I remember once in my teen's how i was going to cut
    a track and catch me a buck for the wall--so i thought, that deer took
    me for a stroll that not even the winner of the Boston marathon could
    of completed, but the memory of the hardwoods, cedar swamps, and
    granite ledges were great to be a part of, as i wisked thru the snow on
    his track. About 3 hours later, i came upon another hunters print on
    the same buck i was tracking, little did i know they were my own as the
    buck took me on a complete circle and i was no closer to him than when
    i started, i remember looking around to insure no one was watching as i
    was just made a fool of by a deer who some groups of people consider a
    poor defenseless animal.
    
    Suddenly, I came too from 20 years ago and realized i was just about to
    my stand where i would spend the day. That hour and a half sure went by
    quick i thought. As i made myself comfortable and poured myself a
    coffee to wait out the last half hour for dawn to come, i had to laugh
    at myself, to an event that took place 20 years past....
    
    It was now 5:55am and the crack of dawn was emerging. From the side of
    that ridge, i could now look out across a sea of mist from which the
    mountains popped up like clustered purple islands. Far below, on some
    back road hill farm, a cow bellowed to be milked. The crow of a rooster
    echoed across from a distant mountainside.
    
    Then, at the edge of hearing, a new sound emerged. Straining every
    auditory nerve, you could feel the sound more than you could hear it. 
    Way out there, a faint cadence could just be made out. It was a soft,
    repeated beat on the eardrum. Suddenly, there it was! A full-racked
    buck, and he was heading right toeards me without a clue that this old,
    not so old man was watching his every move. My whole body and mind were
    now one, focused on one object..Mr. Buck..my heart seemed to pound so
    loud, I thought he would surely hear it, time seemed to drag on, what
    was only a second, seemed like 20 minutes.
    
    Though I don't remember, I somehow positioned myself between a large
    oak and him. I had only but one avenue to send 265 grains of lead from
    my.444 as the area he was walking towards was very thick. I found the
    hole I anticipated he would walk thru and held my rifle there. It
    seemed like an hour but finally he stepped into the small opening, the
    opening was just large enough for a clear shoulder shot. Just as he
    stepped in, I touched the .444 off, he immediately went down in his
    tracks, the .444 at 52 yds did its job once again, and this old-man as
    some have called me, felt a kinda sadness, but very joyful as well. As
    with all the deer I've taken, after the kill, I start to get the
    shakes...so I just sat to relax..but this time I remembered 20 years
    ago and how now the events have turned around.
    
    
                                Rick....
    
    
    

    
    Great story Rick 
    
    If twenty years of hunting make you an old man what does twentyfive 
    years make me?
    
    Bruce
    

    Rick,
    
    		Great story. Take the buyout and just submit
    	articles to hunting magazines. Just think of all the spare
    	time you would have for shooting, scouting and hunting...
    
    
    	Red

    Rick, your descriptions sounds exactly like the place I hunt
    down here in Maine...
    
    Do we hunt in the same place ???
    
    PS - Great story....
    
    Jim
    

	Rick,

	Great story - I caught myself drifting back into my teenage
	hunting days.

	Jim

	PS - I also need a few minutes to regain my knees after
	     connecting

    Rick,
    
       Really good story;  I could smell the coffee and feel the air.
    
    
    Jeff

    Rick,
    
    You should really consider the buyout and start writing for a living.
    Thanks for the trip back to the woods.  I really needed it this friday
    morning.  I got my coffee in hand, and now, goosebumps on my arms.  Ah,
    I could actually smell the cold air going in my lungs.  All i needed to
    hear was the crunching of the snow.  TAKE THE BUYOUT AND WRITE.
    
    bob