I was talking to Moose the other day. He’s now in his late Twenties. He has a family and a job. We were trying to reminisce about the early days of hunting together. We realized how much of it was gone.

We remember all the big things. We both remember the first buck I took at the farm like it was yesterday. We remember some of the lesser known events, like the zombie doe that fell over at the shot and then got up and ran. The rest of it is all gone now, and it was not that long ago.

For instance, I vividly remember taking little Mooseboy out for the afternoon hunt on the Yute Opener in 2002. However, I remember nothing of the morning hunt. I know where we went. I took pictures on the way back. However, the hunt itself is lost. Not much happened, but still! I have one spark. There is a piece of orange twine on the rifle sling. I saw it there last weekend. On the way back, the rivet attaching the sling to the swivel came off. I had that twine in my pocket and I used it to repair the rig. However, the rest of that morning is lost.

That afternoon hunt is forever riveted in our minds. We went out to an island of trees near Garbage Pit. We put up a burlap blind between a couple of trees. It was warm, and I took a nap. Mooseboy was supposed to keep guard and wake me an hour before sunset. I remember waking up with the sun in my eyes. Mooseboy was fuming. He felt I had taken him to a no-where spot and we were wasting our time. I knew the deer had been coming out to feed at the corner of the pasture about 50 yards in front of us, and I kept telling him to be patient. The deer would arrive shortly after sunset. Mooseboy was getting mad and finally made a big stink of it about just as the sun was touching the horizon.

“There are no deer coming.” He said. “This is all a waste. I don’t know why you brought me here.”

“MMMMMMPPHHHHHHHH!” came a voice from about 20 yards away at the closest edge of the treeline.

“What’s that?” He asked, breathlessly as the sound of hoof beats and further snorting filled the woods to our south.

“That, my son, is one of the deer you said weren’t coming.” I chuckled. “Don’t worry. We all have to learn patience.” We headed in.

There is a major confluence of several paths about 150 yards south of the house. We call it Fountain Square, and to leave the pasture we were in caused us to head that way. The view coming that way is near that of the background in the picture of Mooseboy taken earlier that day. We were just coming to Fountain Square when a herd of 5 deer rocketed out of a treeline and began running towards the barn. I turned to tell Mooseboy to be careful, but he already had the safety off and started blazing away at my side. The deer were over 200 yards away when they saw us, and a 30-30 shot offhand is not exactly the best tool for the job. The deer were up the slope and gone. It was then I decided that a 3 round limit was appropriate for all yute rifles. However, John got a chance to shoot at deer that weekend, and he felt he had accomplished something.

From 2002 to 2004 is somewhat of a blur to both of us. I know that we went out twice in the rain and huddled under a treestand umbrella. I suspect one time was the Yute Opener in 2003, but the other is lost. The one memory we both share is sitting up in the buddy stand together, and Mooseboy saw a doe, somewhere off to his left, but I could not see it and told him he was making it up.

The Zombie Doe?  That story comes from a trip out to the Jagende Hutte one afternoon. Mooseboy had the Marlin with him. It was Yute Season. I just cannot remember which one, but guessing I would say 2003.  Along about sunset a doe came out of Skunk Hollow and Moose had a perfect 80 yard broadside shot.  He was aiming out the front of the blind . I was looking out the side, and I was just about to tell him to be careful aiming when the shot went off– just before I could pull back a bit and put my fingers in my ears. Being close to the business end of a 30-30 is a memorable moment. Being stuck in a packing crate turned deer blind with nothing but  3/8″ plywood for protection makes you feel like your brain is bleeding.  I recovered my senses to see the deer down. I shook my head and the deer was up again  and then it was gone. We looked until dark and did not see it.

The next morning I went out before sunrise and started combing Dead Skunk and Hootin Holler for the doe.  The doe never did turn up, but it was one of the nicest hikes I ever had.

Starting about 2001, I started writing email to myself about what was going on in deer camp, but I changed ISP, and I got a new PC a few years later and then. . . who knows. It might still be there if I could find it, but I doubt a day out with one of the kids registered enough back then. The point is that it is now gone. Starting 10 years ago this month, I started a weblog on Blogspot, which ended up becoming Blogger. From that point on, I’ve been making posts about what I was doing at camp. Earlier this Spring, I wrote a piece about Angus and me and included a pictures gleaned from blog entries. It really touched him. However, all I have to give Moose from his first few seasons is this post.

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