So I went up to Riceville this past weekend to go deer hunting with my brother, Dave. It was my first time. I arrived on Friday night and we put together all of the things I would need for the morning: boots, extra socks, insulated coveralls, vest for warmth, orange vest for safety, digital camera for memories, cell phone for time and emergencies, fingerless gloves for quick shooting, granola bars for the munchies, wallet with hunting license and deer tag, scarf for chilly low-lying areas, orange stocking cap for warmth and safety, and twenty deer slugs. My brother Will brought over my 12 gauge shotgun.
At 5a.m. Dave woke me up and we had a coffee and cinnamon roll together before putting on all the gear. It was still completely dark as we drove to his father-in-law's to meet the other hunters. On a clear night when you drive through Iowa it's difficult to tell where the sky begins and the earth ends. The sky is full of crisply shining stars poking through the darkness and the countryside is dotted with the yard lights from every farmhouse among the black.
Keith, Dave's father-in-law, was waiting for us at the kitchen table. He had drawn up a map of the property we would be hunting, his mother's farm. He had labeled it with the geographical terms of a man who has grown up with the land. Here was 'The Old Crossing.' Here 'The Sand Pit.' There 'The New Crossing.' 'The Switchgrass' was north of 'The Oaks.' He explained where he planned to put all the hunters. "Dave, you'll be pushing along the creek. Andrew and I will push toward Joe. Joe, I put you down in 'Keith's Chair.' John will drop you off at the bridge east of Mom's. See, here. Just follow this little creek up until about thirty yards from where it flows into this bigger creek. That's Crane Creek. There's an old fenceline down there and you can move all along there. There's one of those trees where it's like four trunks grew up out of one tree. You can sit up in there, too. Those deer will be coming from ever' which way. They're bedding down in that grass there by the road. You'll probably scare up three or four on your way in. Try to be quiet. You might get one on your way in."
I was too confused trying to figure out when other hunters might be in my line of fire to ask him what 'Keith's Chair' looked like. At around 6:45 John dropped me at the roadside. I loaded my gun and headed into the woods, following the creek. It was still quite dark, but my gun was poised and my reflexes were on notice for whitetails in the grass. No deer were scared up on my way in. Also, Keith's Chair was nowhere to be found in the dark.
I did find the tree with four trunks. The four trunks were like fingers growing out of a hand and two feet from the ground they formed a flat palm where they met and I climbed in, deciding that being surrounded on three sides by tree trunks was a good place to be if chunks of lead started flying around.
At around 7 the first shot was fired in the distance. Six or seven more followed within a minute. It was time to kill some deer. About ten minutes later, I saw my first one. Five of them. I heard them running across the grassfield that was adjacent to the woods I was in. They ran into the woods fifty yards from my position, but on the other side of some thick brush and I lost them for a few seconds. I jumped out of my tree, ran in a direction to give myself a good shot when they came from behind the brush. All five appeared from behind the brush and stopped forty yards from where I stood standing still. A big doe was showing her whole side. I shot. The blast was shockingly loud. I pumped my gun. Shot again. All five were gone before I could shoot a third time.
My other encounters with deer during the rest of the day proceeded much the same way with the same result every time. Later in the day, Dave and I both shot at a doe running at top speed through a grass field. Dave was in the same area the next day and said he saw a blood trail and thought that I had wounded it. He was trying to cheer me up. But I didn't need cheering-up. I had a great time.
