5 After locking myself in, I drew the bow to ensure it was possible with all the layers I wore. "Pull hard to the brake," I told myself. You'll be fighting the bow, the cold, and your clothing. Hours passed, and I was ready to wrap up another year, feeling satisfied that I had made an honest effort, probably more than most. The snow gave away some distant movement, and I could make out a lone deer heading off to my right. I'm probably going to walk right past my other stand. It's time to wear heavy gloves and enjoy "the walk back." Wait, a deer? Standing behind a tree, I could see its hind quarter, and that was all. Where did it come from? Now, moving in my direction, only 35 yards away. Knowing she was coming, I focused on my feet. Felt packs and ice demand another level of attention. Now, my grip. It's good, and I'm clipped on. Twenty yards, and I draw. She isn't going to stop. Fighting my pin, I center and touch the release. A loud whack and the deer turns 180 degrees and runs out of sight. Not a sound. Total silence. It looked like her back end was getting lost, and I assumed it was over. After getting down, I discovered it was a clean pass-through. She had expired in seconds. Today was the sixth day I hunted with my bow since the gun season opened, all in less-than-ideal weather, always cold and wet. She was one of the eighth big game animals I harvested this season. She won't be on the cover of a magazine, she won't get measured, and most wouldn't consider her a trophy. She is to me. “He looked upon us as sophisticated children – smart but not wise. We knew many things, and many of them were false. He knew nature, which is always true.” Saxton Pope of Ishi was the last American aboriginal. The snow continued through lunch, and the curling snow whipping around the windows made me think twice about another seat. "It's just a doe tag." Over the last year, I have hunted on three continents and harvested animals that would be viewed as trophies by anyone's tape. With experience comes wisdom. Not all trophies are equal. For a true hunter, the prize isn't in the size; it's in the "effort." It took a few years and a lot of money to internalize that. Not heading to the stand this afternoon was not an option. Win or lose, good or bad, I would put in my time. So close, several times, I had to keep trying. Crunching through the snow, I was caught by the horizontal line of what must be a deer. I dropped to my knees, unleashed my bow, and tightened my release. The strong wind was my only advantage, lasting about 15 yards. I just needed ten more. Close again! The snow stuck to the bottom half of my bibs wouldn't melt until I was back in by the fire. It was a nice thought, but it was now time to climb.
