2015 Hunting Journal: Vermont Rifle Season 11.30.15

Well known psychologists have long studied the correlation between increased rates of depression and the end of hunting season to determine if they are related. Why they have to study it to figure this out is beyond me because any idiot knows that they are. I bet those same psychologists don’t hunt. If they did, they wouldn’t need to study such matters.

I’m depressed. Just ask my wife.

My favorite season is over. Vermont Rifle season came to a close last night and with it yearlong hopes and dreams of filling my most coveted tag.  It wasn’t meant to be this year.

I wasn’t able to hunt as much as in years past. This year I logged just under 25 hours in the woods in search of Mr. Big, which is my lowest season total in a long time. I saw 1.5 deer (one full deer and one half deer), or .06 deer per hour hunted. As sad as that sounds it’s about average for where I hunt, so I don’t have much reason to complain. There are plenty of bucks around – I simply wasn’t able to catch up with one during the time I had to hunt.

Which brings me to my next point: the single greatest factor in consistently filling tags here is TIME. This brings me to my next point: I’m DEPRESSED.

I’m depressed because each season that ends without an opportunity to fill my tag makes me feel like a bit of a failure. I’m not sure what it is, but there is a drive within me to figure these creatures out – to beat them on their own turf where they have the upper hand. They are smart, elusive, and often lucky, not to mention mysterious. Why do they only move in the middle of the night, I wonder?? Each trail camera photo I pull off an SD card that has a time stamp of 1:05 AM makes me pull my hair.

“NO ONE HAS BEEN HERE ALL SUMMER AND YOU STILL MOVE AT 1 AM!!! WHY?!?!?!?!”

Then, like an idiot I hope that we’ll happen to bump into each other during daylight. That did happen this year; I just couldn’t get a clear shot, but the sight of him was enough to make me want to come back for more. As far as I know he is still out there roaming the woods. Maybe I’ll bump into him during muzzleloader season, or maybe he’ll survive another brutal winter and be back to continue our game next year. It’s time to start dreaming again…

Only fifty more weeks to go. I’m depressed.

Here now is a quick summary of my last hunt of Vermont Rifle Season:

[hana-code-insert name=’Vermont Rifle Season’ /]

To be honest, I don’t know if any well known psychologists have ever studied increased rates of depression and the end of deer season. I made it all up for attention. Depressed people do that sort of thing. 

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