A lot has transpired since my last update, some of it even related to hunting. Each summer I enter each fall dreaming of hunting day in and day out until shooting Mr. Big. At this point in the season, I’d settle for being able to sleep long enough to dream. The arrival of Oliver Jacob Biebel late last week has derailed my hunting and sleeping schedule, but I’m not complaining.
It should come as no surprise that I blew my first opportunity at a deer this year, but after nine months of waiting for the opportunity, I don’t have any regrets.
New Hampshire archery season opened last Friday the 15th, and with it enough anticipation to distract a fellow from his duties at work. I must say, I was slightly more productive than I thought I’d be during the day and the afternoon couldn’t come soon enough. There would be no afternoon hunt for me, but I was able to get out long enough to pick a tree for my climber and get it set for the following morning’s hunt.
I’ve often thought that, despite the hard work, hosting a hunting show would be fun. Obviously, the show would be immensely popular and leave a lasting, positive impact on viewers. It would combine the sexiness of a Mariah Carey music video to attract the shallow minded viewers, but also bring the intensity found in a Bob Ross “The Joy of Painting” episode for those who desire the many qualities Ms. Carey lacks. That big buck in the first episode won’t be standing behind a half dead tree, it’ll be behind a “scantily clad, happy little hemlock.” See what a mean? That’s television gold if I do say so myself.
Ending the season with unfilled tags is not a failure, but not learning from your mistakes is. As I reflect on the past season, I am still trying to determine what mistakes, if any, I made. I am not talking about lazy mistakes, such as not paying attention at a critical time. I made plenty of those. I’m referring to strategic mistakes like interpreting sign wrong, moving too often, and hunting the same areas over and over to name a few.
Let me spare you the agony and sum up my last weekend of hunting like this – I went hunting, saw nothing, and came home.
Now let me tell you about the story of the wounded doe. After a morning of hunting on Saturday, I dropped my dad off at his house, and as I was pulling out of the driveway I noticed a doe standing broadside in the brush across the creek. So I did what any hunter would do; I put the truck in reverse.