We quickly packed the truck ... bows, tree stand, snacks, extra clothes. The day had gotten away from us as often happens with a toddler (Kaylee), and we were running late for an evening deer hunt. Should we still go? Yes, we must. My soul yearned for that connection to the land, and I reminded myself, “It looks different, Susan, but being out there is all that matters.”
It was a beautiful fall October day, but just a week ago we were hit by a snowstorm that shut down most of North Dakota for a few days. I understood that soon enough, dealing with the fallout of winter will be a daily reality so we had to capitalize on every opportunity to be out as a family when the weather cooperated.
After the hour drive to our favorite deer spot, I got my bow and a few personal items out for the hunt, plus a pack with Kaylee’s stuff. My hubby, Chris, grabbed a climber tree stand and tree trimmers ready to head down a trail that would lead to an area that had over a foot of snow just a week ago that revealed a superhighway travel corridor. An area Kaylee helped us hang a couple of trail cameras back in August.
Normally, I would scoop up Kaylee and she would enthusiastically get into her backpack carrier. But not today. Today, she was going to “do it herself.” As she grabbed my hand, and then my husband’s, time stopped just for a moment ... a moment I don’t ever want to forget.
And then we were finally off. If I were to walk this trail alone, it would take about 15 minutes, but today we more than doubled it. We stopped to make snowballs to throw at each other, we splashed in puddles, and we talked about the piles of deer poop along the trail.
We got to the spot and Kaylee decided she would cling to me as she does regularly these days. Chris hung the stand as I wondered if Kaylee would walk back with my husband or insist she was going to “hunt with Mommy.” After a few minutes of clinging, she reached for Daddy and away they went as I climbed the tree.
This was the first time in weeks I had a little time for me that had nothing to do with work. I was a little lost in the silence of the woods, but at the same time my soul was dancing as I recharged.
We were so late and so noisy coming in that I was realistic about the potential of getting a deer with my bow, but again reminded myself that success looks different these days. After all, my toddler just made her first trip walking into a stand as “a big girl,” mumbling something about “deer hunting.”
That was magical, I thought, as I sat several feet up a tree.
Only 15 minutes had passed when I heard movement ... a yearling buck walking my direction from the north. Although only 30 yards away, he kept cover between us. My heart thumped. I saw a deer after all that. Nice!
Another 45 minutes would pass and then crunch, crunch, crunch, but this time to the south. Two does moving quickly passed at about 50 yards. Cool, I thought. I not only got out, I also saw deer.
As the temperature dropped and I reached that magical time when the sun crept closer to the horizon, I thought what a great job I did packing warm clothes for my daughter but what a poor job I had done packing for me. Perhaps I should have put on another layer?
I looked at my watch with only about 30 minutes left. And then it happened. The footsteps, the big dark body up the ridge and the glisten of antlers got my attention as they moved in my direction. My heart thumped, but for the first time I felt a strange calmness in my excitement.
As the buck worked down the trail I wondered if this could really happen. I drew and he stopped at the one small opening I had along the trail, quartering just slightly away and perfectly in line with the opening. The arrow flew. It looked good ... maybe a little far back, but otherwise in the pocket. Away he ran.
I shook for a second as I took in the moment. Then I grabbed my phone.
Got one.
Beauty.
Come help.
Chris had been joking earlier that a 3.5-year-old, 4x4 buck was going to appear about sunset. Not because we saw one on the trail cameras, but because he “just had this feeling.” Here I was sending him a message about 5 minutes from his prediction saying that I got one. “Could she be joking,” he questioned. I sent another message, “Bring Kaylee mittens and bring flashlights.”
I climbed down and waited on the trail where I had shot. Chris and Kaylee soon joined me as we found blood and soon walked up on my biggest bow buck (interestingly, a 3.5-year-old 4x4).
“Deer!” Kaylee exclaimed. I picked up the head and quickly had two little hands trying to help hold the antlers as we sat there as a family, grateful for the experience, grateful for the meat, and grateful we could share it all together.
SUSAN FELEGE, when she’s not sitting in a tree stand, is an associate professor of wildlife ecology and management at the University of North Dakota in Grand Forks.
