It’s over. At least for me. I’m not elated. I’m not sad. I hunted a lot more days this year, and a lot more deer in my scope.

I got out late yesterday afternoon. Things just did not go smoothly. I left the house late, I got to camp late. I had trouble finding my gear. I had brought down a couple of extra deer guns, and I was having trouble choosing. I finally grabbed the Whelenizer, figuring there was no reason not to. It was colder than usual. It was windier than usual. I thought about just staying by the fire, but this afternoon deserved to be pushed. Saturday morning was going to be down around 15F. If I did not like the conditions now, tomorrow was going to be worse.

Then I went through the gate and started out for the stand, and it all changed around. There was a beautiful light bathing the trees. In the few days I had been gone from camp, a lot of the oak trees had shed their leaves. It was stark change– bare limbs against a blue sky. It was well after 4PM when I saw the stand at Midway and I remember looking at my watch at 4:33 after I chucked the bolt on the Remington 7600 and checked the safety one last time. I could not stop looking at the trees. I had hunted the better part of the previous week with the pastures rimmed with oaks that looked like a mauve Berber rug had been thrown over them.

When you hunt from a stand it is never a good idea to get fixated on one spot for too long. You hear a noise, you get ready. Your attention stays on that spot until something else jerks it away–very bad ju-ju. The unenlightened hunter is forever surprised. The wise hunter always keeps his attention dancing, his eyes moving. He turns his head imperceptibly, like a tree trunk twisting in a breeze.

I guess I was unwisely staring at the entrance to Knowlton’s Corner too long. It is a break in the fenceline where generations of the previous owners had driven their carts. On one side is the way to Heartbreak Ridge, another heads off for the campground, On the other side there is the way to where I sat stared at the bare sentinel oak trees. Many times deer use Knowlton’s Corner to pass from the cedar thickets to the East out into the open pastures.

When a hunter finds he has let down his guard, he should never jerk his head around. When a branch snaps close behind him, he must carefully bring himself around and be ready to strike. Yeah, right. I just realized I’d been daydreaming and turned around. There they were. Two doe coming out into the south pasture to feed.

I had been watching these two deer since September. They came to the same place in the same plot about every other day about an hour before dark. Sometimes they would eat and bed, sometimes they would munch for a while and go back the way they came. Sometimes they continued on. For all the times I had watched them, I had never thought about sitting in judgment on them. It was now the last weekend of season. Either I was going to finish filling the freezer or not.

In some ways, it is sort of sad that a gentle creature such as a whitetail deer gets reduced to this. Of course, I don’t think they think about it. When I grieve for deer, I grieve for myself. I would like to think the Almighty is not sitting up there trying to fill a quota, and that when the Grim Reaper comes at last that I am not just random attempt to fill the last tag. Still, I had a tag. I had freezer space, and I had come out to this stand, because I knew it was a good chance to catch a deer in the open and take one without whole lot of fuss.

I am now fifty. I do not mind the rigors of deer hunting. However, I now think twice before shooting at deer at the bottom of a ravine. I stay out of cedar thickets and briar patches as much as possible. It is not that I do not like challenges. I just know there will be pain enough– why push it.

So there I was, with two deer out in the field, having moral qualms about filling the freezer. Mind you, I am a hunter, not a a vegetarian tree-hugger pansy. I guess it does come to this eventually. ” . . .Even as the frozen pizza and chicken wings I have given thee all things to munch on, but the freezer burned stuff though shalt not. ”

Okay, qualms aside, I put the rifle up and start angling for a shot. The lead doe was larger. She was probably the dominant of the two. I would nail the smaller one– less likely to make it through a harsh winter, definately tastier. I flicked off the safety, just in time to see both deer turn about and offer me their tails. Head down, they continued to munch. This gave me more time to think. I do not like thinking a whole lot after I have taken the safety off. For one thing, I needed to put the safety back on. Having both the trigger and the mind engaged at the same time is not a good practice. It wrecks your concentration. You get to thinking about the failing light, the distance to the target. My mind began to wander. I lifted my head off the stock. The lead doe, lifted her head and stared at me. Then the little one’s head shot up as well. I got to thinking that my chance to make a quick shot was over in a moment of indecision.

A short bit later, another deer came out into the field. I had seen this one before as well. She frequently fed with the other two– apart but together. She was slightly larger than the others. There was a solution to the moral quandary. I would bag her and leave the mother/daughter pair together. However, the third doe wandered behind a bush and started to feed. All the while the sunlight was beginning to dim, and the angle of the sun was beginning to impinge on my scope.

The Whelenizer is actually more of a deep woods gun than anything. I put a 1.5-4.5X scope on it, thinking that there would be no need for anything more. I was still confident I could make the shot, but it was starting to get a little tricky out there in the middle of the pasture, with 150 yards between us and the sun getting ready to set. Meanwhile the little #2 deer presented a perfect broadside shot, and I was sorely tempted. The safety came off more than once. Finally the #3 deer turned a side to me and angled out into the middle of the field. The safety came off one last time.

35 Whelen is one of those cartridges that you seldom have to worry about. When the Whelenizer spoke the result was pretty much decided. She went down, held her head up for a moment and then collapsed. The mother-daughter team stood for a moment trying to soak it all in and then took off. I took my time getting down and walking over to investigate.

The State of Kentucky believes our herds are getting to large. Any number of antlerless deer can now be taken. By reducing the number of doe and the eschewing the under-age bucks. The quality of the herd will increase and larger, more mature bucks will become more evident. Such is the plan. However, the Almighty seemed to have a different plan in mind. I had already given thanks for the kill and started to examine the carcass when I realized this was no doe. I had shot a rather large button buck. I tried to apologize for the error, but out in the middle of that field, there was no one to apologize to, least of all the deer. At our end of the county, God decided to build herd one more time instead of building antler.

Oh well, season had ended. Time to bring the truck and gather up the gear, and after the dance at the meatpole and the obligatory photo, it was time to start putting everything away and start closing up camp.

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