Myrick

It was about two years ago this fall that I successfully shot my first, and only, deer. Vermont has a youth hunting season, and no, that doesn't mean a season for hunting youth, just a weekend right before opening rifle season when any properly licensed wannabe hunter under the age of 16 can head out into the woods with a rifle and an adult, and see if he can find himself a deer. Well, like I said, it was about two years ago that I first got to experience deer hunting. I was just about to turn 16, and I, along with the rest of my family, had just passed the hunter safety course, exercising our second amendment rights, and had been “licensed to kill” so to speak.

Well, along came youth weekend, and i'd been loaned my father's rifle, chambered for .270, a radio, and an idea of where I was supposed to hide myself. Saturday morning, dad came along and woke us all up. (I say Saturday morning, but it was really closer to Friday night, or at least it felt that way.) We piled into the green van, and drove for an hour to where we were going to be hunting, a farm, owned by a nice family who's name escapes me. We pulled into their driveway, and I hopped out. The silence was deafening, and the air was so cold my feet burned for an instant in their cozy boots. I zipped up the front of my jacket a few more inches, buried my face in the hood, swung my rifle off of my shoulder and started across the field towards my place though the fog. There was fog everywhere, and everything (and I do mean everything) was blue. It would be a long, cold hour before the sun showed itself over the mountain. (I'm shivering now just writing about it.)

Well, I walked on for a few more minutes, hopped a wooden fence, and came to where the field was divided by a low stone wall, with a few trees growing from it and a few stumps right at the end of it. It was on one of these that I sat down, and waited. And waited. And waited. My hands got all stiff and cold holding the rifle, so I laid it on my lap, and eventually against the wall next to me. The sun still wasn't up, but as I waited, the mist cleared and I could see my range. I was at the bottom of a hill, in a huge field. Make a diamond with your thumbs and index fingers. I was sitting at the end of the stone wall, right about where your right thumb-joint is. Ahead of me stretched a field about 300 yards to the very point (where your indexes meet.)

I sat and waited and waited. The stump I was sitting on began to thaw, which was kind of a pity, because it only served to wet down my already cold and uncomfortable bottom. The sun eventually did come up, which meant hunting season was officially started. I picked my rifle back up and chambered a round. A few moments later i laid it across my lap; it was still too cold to handle. Still waiting, I heard a few shots. One behind me, then a few minutes later one in front of me, over a mountain, and then in another few minutes a third, to my left, way in the distance.

I kept waiting, scanning ahead of me across the field, knowing that even to see a deer with a rifle in your hands was special. The sun was behind me and I watched it light up the mountain to my left- a beautiful sight. I saw horses and cows meandering through meadows, and I saw someone head into a barn with a pail to emerge a few minutes later, it filled with milk.

I looked back at my field and- my heart didn't even skip a beat. There were two deer there. Every time I hear about your first deer, I hear about “buck fever.” that's when you see your deer and everything goes out the window. You forget the safety, you forget rules and codes, you forget to chamber a round, and generally the adrenaline shuts you down and makes you into a fool. I didn't suffer any of this, probably because it was all so surreal and far away. I picked up my rifle, i'd chambered a round at sunup, and raised it to my shoulder. Bits of advice flashed through my mind. “wait until it stops” “take a deep breath and hold it to slow your heart” “don't try to hold it on target, sweep the gun down slowly and shoot right” “keep the gun tight to your shoulder” and so much more, all in an instant. Sitting, I tried to get a good sight, but I couldn't hold the rifle steady enough for a shot at this range. Steadily and efficiently, I quickly but not hurriedly stepped around the stump and kneeled in the dewy grass, my gun supported by my left arm and my left arm supported my my raised knee. I took a breath and holding it, peered through the scope at my target. The deer were lazily picking their way across the tip of the field, towards the other side. I held the rifle as steady as I could, and tried to get a bead on the deer to the left. It was simply too far. I said a quick prayer asking God for strength, confidence and accuracy, and of course, if he was willing, a deer. Just as I started to trust myself enough to fire, the deer slowly quartered away from me towards the woods. To shoot now would most likely not kill my deer and even if it did, would ruin much of the meat. Oh well, it was still a remarkable experience. I lowered my rifle and remembered to thank God for the opportunity despite my disappointment. I opened my eyes and looked back up, and saw the deer again! They'd walked in a tight circle and were now broadsided to me again. I picked the rifle back up, held my breath and lowered the crosshairs. Time slowed, and I watched the deer painstakingly pick up a foreleg to take another step. It was still tiny through my scope, and I was having a hard time positioning the rifle. I brought it up and swept it slowly towards the flank of the deer. My heart beat, twitching the gun off target for an instant.. The crosshairs moved a foot and onto the side of the animal. My heart beat again. They moved to the center of it's side. My heart beat again. I waited for the gun to settle again and gently squeezed the trigger. My heart beat one more time. At the same instant, the gun cracked and everything sped back up. My heart was now in my throat and going like a choked jackrabbit's. Did I miss? I missed! I watched the deer bound into the woods, and I suppressed the doubts I had. It was a good shot. I got it. But the rifle twitched up over it's back! No it didn't. I marked where the deer had entered the woods in my mind, and waited. Well, to make an overly long short short story shorter but still too long, I waited about 15 minutes (so as not to alarm the deer, and make it keep running if I had hit it) and set out after it, looking for a blood trail. I didn't find one, and so, resigned to my deerless estate, I walked back. I didn't know what to do, so I just stayed put and waited. About twelve hours later, (Ok, just one) I heard a voice over the radio. “Hey Barnaby... We found your deer.” Just like that. My heart leapt, and I picking up my gear, I started across the field, 300 yards away. About 100 feet from the woods, I saw one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen. It surpassed the sunrise, and seeing my deer later came close but couldn't match it. What I saw was 5 hunters dressed in blaze orange suddenly fading into view through the trees and into the field.

It reminded me that I wasn't alone, after several hours by myself in the cold. It reminded me that I have a family that I love and that loves me, and it reminded me that if there were some invasion, or serious trouble with armed men, I'd feel safe knowing that there are hundreds of able-bodied, well-armed men and women all across America, shooting and hunting in peace, and ready to fight if that should change.