Early Saturday morning while preparing to leave for the morning hunt, my digestive system and my contact lenses were locked in an epic race to see which one could claim the victory of settling down first. The only problem was that neither one realized they were in a race and both seemed content to drag the process out as long as possible. It wasn’t the way I envisioned the morning starting. Thankfully, everything worked itself out and I left for the woods full of anticipation.
After shooting a doe in New Hampshire last week I have settled back into my routine of staring at trees and drinking hot chocolate. Good Times.
Vermont’s Rifle season opened last Saturday and I spent a good part of my day wandering through the woods looking for any signs of deer activity. I discovered quite a few scrapes, though they were all a few weeks old, and a couple fresh rubs in the typical locations. I also saw some hunters. I chatted with one guy for a bit and I watched another guy drive back and forth on his four wheeler at different times during the day. Mostly he drove by during the best part of the day. I can only assume he considered himself to be “hunting,” but it’s clear his definition of the term is different than mine.
When I don’t have an opportunity to hunt during the week I spend my time thinking about it. Reliving the excitement of a previous hunt definitely helps pass the time until the next hunt and also leads a lack of production when you should be producing. Know what I mean?
Today, I figured it would be fun to share a series of trail camera pictures we captured on a night during the peak of the rut back in 2009. The star of the show, Mr. Big, was a regular middle-of- the-night traveler on our cameras, but he never showed his face during daylight hours.
Here’s how I would define it:
Hunt (verb): To drink hot chocolate and stare at trees for long lengths of time.
I officially hit the low point earlier this week. Then I hit it again for good measure this afternoon when sighting in my muzzleloader this afternoon in preparation for the opener in NH this Saturday. I’ve never boxed anyone, but I imagine my week has been similar to receiving a swift upper gut followed by a right hook. I also imagine that if I was a boxer I’d be like Rocky. I keep taking hits, but I keep getting back up. Soon enough I’ll deliver a knockout punch of my own.