What had caught my eye was a triangle, or maybe it's better called a vee. The point of the vee was down, and it was black. After an infinity lasting perhaps as long as one second, the message that my subconscious finally put through to me was this: That's a deer over there!
Aha, so it is, I thought. The black point of the vee was the deer's nose, and the sides were the sides of its head, and its ears.
The adrenaline came then.
I raised the rifle; both doe and buck were legal to take, and I was not planning to pass up a chance at a legal deer - I needed me some venison. The deer moved its head, and I saw the antlers.
More adrenaline.
Between the pounding of my heart, the adrenaline, and the frigid air my lungs were hungrily devouring, I was shaking by now - trembling from head to toe. I needed to take a rest - prop up on something. I spotted a small pine tree nearby, not more than ten feet tall. The limbs growing out would make a suitable rest, while the bushy greenery would provide great cover. It was perhaps six or seven steps away.
I waited until the buck turned his head to look to his right, away from me, and then I quickly slipped over to the pine. I found a limb at just the right height, and laid the Savage Model 110 30-06 across it. Again I scoped the buck, at the scope's maximum magnification of nine power.
He turned his head while I examined his antlers to ensure his legality. Finally I spotted all of the necessary tines, and recounted them, in a low voice, out loud for the benefit of my addled brain. It was enough; it was right. I steadied the rifle across the limb. It would be about the longest shot I'd made on a deer - 130 yards. Well within the capabilities of the cartridge and the rifle.
I squeezed the trigger. The buck went down with the impact of the handloaded 180-grain Hornady bullet, struggled momentarily, and died.
Then I saw the doe, which had been standing near the buck. I watched her as she walked away, providing many opportunities for a shot... but I already had one deer down, and him out of sight for the moment. It wouldn't do to push things too far, or to use up all my good fortune in one morning. I watched her until she'd topped the ridge and crossed it, disappearing to the other side. Then I went to get my buck.
Six points, formerly seven before the left brow tine had been broken off. Four on one side, two on the other. Probably about 140 pounds. About three and a half years old.
It was a good morning to hunt, and it had just gotten even better.
