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Somebody told me a week or so ago after I had written something about hunting, “You should write a ‘real’ hunting story.” Maybe I should. But, what is a ‘real’ hunting story? You decide.
It was the last week of black powder season, and the forecast for this particular day was cloudy with rain expected later in the day. This usually means a front is coming in, a change in barometric pressure, and, for the hunter, game will be moving. If you want to hunt, get out there.
I sat down on my favorite rock, that has a little depression in it that just fits my backsides, and an overhanging red cedar that I can scrunch back under. It was 6:20 a.m. That wasn’t quite early enough, but with the cloudiness, daylight did not come early, and it was still in good time, and before reasonable shooting light, anyway. A beautiful morning
It was another wonderful morning to hunt. As forecast, it was cloudy early, and no wind was stirring. The leaves were gone from the top of the mountain, but the lower ridges were still beautiful in their autumn dress. Sitting there, for about a half hour, marveling at this awesome gift of another day in the field, I saw a deer on the distant ridge. I was sure it was a buck, from the way he acted. The deer wasn’t feeding, but moving steadily along with its head down. It was a big deer - had to be a buck.
I put the scope on the deer to check it out. (And, yes, I do use a scope on my black powder gun. The inability of my aging eyes to focus both on open sights and the distant target, and hunting ethics, demand it.) In muzzle loader season, all deer are legal. But, if you hunt much, the lure of the big buck is always present. I wanted a better look.
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