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Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Picture this:
It's opening weekend. I leave work on Friday with a feeling of connection to the outdoors that comes hand in hand with the hope of killing something and then spending some quality time with my arms buried in its insides. I am cruising north on 41 and enjoying the roomy lanes, though somewhat sad that I don't get to drive by the churches with clever sayings anymore, listening to David Allan Coe and Tenacious D to get me in the mood for deercamp. My full beard is enhancing the outdoorsy feeling. I get constant updates from the deercamp consituents that are already drinking that drive me closer and closer to my goal. I turn onto the road leading to the Blessed Camp, so I decide to crack a cold Wisconsin Barley Pop, and arrive minutes later.
A quick hello, a glance through the one (1) Playboy someone was smart enough to bring, a cocktail, and it is off to dinner. A giant steak sandwich and a few pitchers of beer and I am as if one with nature. I can feel the spirit of nature flowing through my blood, and at one point I swear I can hear the distant pounding of native drums (though that might have been from the Ted Nugent songs on the bar's jukebox). I go to bed with the buzzing anticipation of what is to come tomorrow, as well as slightly buzzed.
Opening morning I get to my stand with what seems like 4 hours of darkness before I can pull the trigger. But this is my year dammit. This is year 10, and I am running out of patience. I cannot be the running joke any longer. Morning passes and...nothing. Noon comes and...nothing. I am starting to get discouraged. Then it happens. The slight rustle of leaves. Is that merely a squirrel? I don't think so. Gun raised, eyes trained on the prize, a silent prayer (Please Lord, it's ok if I miss, just let the gun go off) and she walks into my line of fire. And then...BANG!!
That's right ladies and gentlemen, the draught is over. A beautiful doe is harvested (all thanks to my big brother Mike), drug out of the woods and hung up on the deer pole. And just when you think it can't get any better, on Sunday afternoon I got another one. Two in one year! This year I became a deerhunter, and not merely a hanger-on that gets venison once a year.
So to make a long story short (shut it), I'm pretty happy with how things turned out this year.
Craig @ 9:19 PM
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