Tag Team for Conservation
or…Modern Communications Run Amuck
Greetings dear reader. Autumn is well underway in the Greater Bippus Area, and with autumn comes the deer mating season. And the deer hunting season. So Uncle Milton, being a solid conservationist, who also loves to eat, and to eat venison, planned to get out and hunt some deer.
Folks have been noticing that the bucks are chasing, which is the very best time to hunt, as the bucks have something on their mind, and it ain’t looking out for dudes sitting in a tree with a bow and arrow.
So Uncle Milton sent Junior a text message, mentioning how the wind was right for using the new ladder stand. And also sent a text to Wifey, alerting her that he would not be home until after dark. And just to let the whole family know, Uncle Milton left a note on the kitchen table, with all the details of what he was doing.
And the plan was working, PERFECTLY…
We travel now to the memory of Old, OLD Uncle Milton, as he sits in his tree stand; bow in hand.
“It sure is a beautiful autumn afternoon. This reminds me of last fall, or was it two years back, when that six pointer was chasing the doe, right up under my stand.”
crunch, crunch, crunch from behind and to the right
Looking over right shoulder, the worst spot for a right handed bow hunter. “OMG. It is a buck. A nice buck. Directly downwind and under the sun. (The worst spots for the hunter, although, very good for the deer. Are those six antler points?”
Uncle Milton at this point is pretzelled around, twisted to the right to look into the sun, and watching the buck who has moved from the woods into the adjacent corn field, and is totally unaware of his presence, as the buck eats some corn. About fifty yards away.
<doinnnng, doodle doinnng!> comes the tone alerting Uncle Milton of an incoming text message on the cell phone.
Six point buck gets the message and ALERTS immediately.
“Dang it all!” inside Milton’s head. “I thought I muted that dang thing!” <heart pounding, THUMPA, THUMPA , THUUMMPA!>
Buck walks SILENTLY, through the corn, TOWARDS the tree stand. S-L-O-W…L-Y LOOKING, SNIFFING,,,
WATCHING. EVER ON THE ALERT. Stops right exactly where Milton walked through. Sniffs the ground…
“Dad, GUM it!” in Milton’s head. “He is smelling my boots” (Heartbeat continues THUMPA, THUMPAA , THUMPA! “How am I going to get this bow into shooting position?” the buck continues to move, along the path that MIlton had walked, which is a very bad thing.
Now Milton hears activity EXACTLY WHERE THE DEER WAS SUPPOSED TO SHOW UP, RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIS TREE STAND, UPWIND. He dares not turn to see what that is, as the six point buck is now forty yards from him, and he still wants to maneuver himself (slowly) into shooting position.
And then, suddenly…
The buck turns and runs and bounds off through the corn. And is gone.
Uncle Milton, not wanting to scare the deer that he supposes is now upwind of him (right where the archery killing zone IS) , turns very slowly, smooth not wanting to alert the OTHER deer, and….
There about seventy yards away,
Ayup, There is Junior, coming in from upwind, he sees Milton in the stand, saw the buck run away, and he quickly turns and heads back where he came from. So, the way this hunting story worked out is that the big one got away. And Wifey and Junior teamed up on behalf of “conservation”. And that deer lived happily ever after.