Out There: The one that got away

This is part one of a two part story.

Normally “the one that got away” is a saying reserved for a long lost love, or a fish story where the story just gets more impressive with each telling. But my “the one that got away” story is about a deer.

I harvested my first deer on Monday afternoon, but that story will be for part 2.

My dad and I took to the woods on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. The hunt this year is bittersweet – in December, the family farm will be sold. This is only my second year hunting, so the excitement has been building ever since licenses went on sale in July.

My goal is one of a little selfishness mixed with nostalgia: to harvest my first deer on the family farm.

We ventured out at first light on Saturday to our homemade tree stands throughout the roughly 30 acres that comprises the family homestead. Purchased in the mid-50s, the farm withstood the test of time as housing developments creeped closer to the eastern edge of the property.

I took to my favorite hunting spot – behind the old garage with a decent view of the lower field and the field that surrounds my grandparents house. A nice gathering of trees and the old garage act as a hunting blind keeping me decently hidden in the woods.

The morning started out calm and quiet. Not many squirrels were rustling through the woods. Winds were calm and not too blustery. I was back in my happy place in the woods.

Sometime around 9:30 I observed a large animal crossing from in front of the garage to a pile of brush just eating and enjoying breakfast. And then I saw another set of legs. And another!

My heart started to race as I reached for my rifle, my grandmother’s Savage .308. I found the deer in my scope and watched as it walked on enjoying breakfast. It was then that I saw two babies following behind it and I remembered a conversation my wife and I had: do not take a doe if the babies are around it.

I breathed in deep as those words repeated over and over in my mind. I followed the family as it walked around the field enjoying weeds and brush.

At long last, the doe made eye contact with me, her head bobbing up and down trying to size me up as a threat or not. The babies stopped to look on and observe what mother was watching.

She began to stomp her hoof and dig in the dirt as if she was going to charge me from 50 yards away.

All of a sudden a very familiar sound left her, a sound I grew to know very well from the past year: the deer snort. Think: blowing your nose but more high pitched and very forceful. The deer snort is a mechanism the deer uses to warn others, sort of like an alarm that danger is nearby.

Not even 10 seconds later she ran up the field with babies following behind.

Later that night when I told my wife about the story we revised our policy on hunting doe. If I were to see a doe with her babies, and as long as the babies looked healthy and did not have their spots anymore, I was free to use that half of my license.

The one that got away.