| A Forest Memory | |
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Having learned from his previous year's experience (when he had frozen and stared stupidly as a buck passed him by), he waited until the buck's head was down, and then turned around and stood as quickly as he dared. His knees trembled as new adrenaline surged into his veins. The buck was unconcerned, and reached down to a cabbage palmetto to pick off a few berries and munch them. He raised the compact rifle to his shoulder, as he had done the year before.
He aimed the rifle, as he had not done the year before, and placed the sights on the buck's shoulder. The deer was quartering towards him, and he aimed at the front edge of the shoulder, where the deer's neck met its body. Entirely unlike the year before, he squeezed the trigger of the carbine, sending 240 grains of jacketed soft point bullet into the buck below.
The buck went down immediately, and he kept the rifle trained on the animal, breathing heavily and trembling violently from head to toe, feeling the cool heat of even more adrenaline, fighting its disorienting effects. The buck kicked once, then twice, and then no more. He could scarcely believe that this was real… but the proof lay there in plain sight, testimony that he had finally gotten it right.
He'd carefully put the rifle's safety back on, and loaded another round into the tubular magazine to replace the one he'd fired. Then, with shaking hands and intense concentration, he had managed to get his seat back into the climbing position and descend the tree. He had wasted no time in getting to the buck, and it was then that the enormity of his achievement finally became reality in his mind.
He'd let out a loud whoop, at the same time both regretful and happy that no one was there to see the grin that split his face. Regretful because he was eager to share his joy; happy because he alone had gotten the buck. He examined the beautiful whitetail buck, and saw that the deer had unexpectedly raised his head a split-second before the shot. The bullet had struck its head between the antlers, traveling through it and part of the neck before exiting and again hitting near the point of aim at the base of the neck.
He had tied a light, strong cord to the buck and cut a short piece of blackjack oak to serve as a T-handle, and started to drag his kill to the truck. It didn't take long before he had to stop and field-dress the deer… he was eighteen and thin, and the buck didn't weigh much less than he did. That done, he had placed the heart and liver in his orange vest and carried on with the joyous, strenuous uphill drag. He passed a deceased ground rattler, the snake reduced to mere meat by logging equipment just a day or two earlier.
He got the buck loaded into the Chevy and headed out, grinning at himself and fortune, and thanking God for his blessings. When he pulled into Dad's sight, he knew he would be disturbing his hunting - but he also knew he would be forgiven. Dad came off his ladder quickly, knowing that the news had to be good, and when Dad saw the deer he embraced his only son there in the woods - one of the jewels of this memory was that beautiful moment of intense shared joy. When another buddy joined them, a firm handshake and two pairs of twinkling eyes cemented the bond between the younger and the older man.
At the check station, one older hunter examined the buck's head and asked if he had killed it with a sledge hammer. "Yes sir," he replied with a grin. "A 44 magnum sledge hammer."
Back at the camp, he had taken his time skinning his first buck. The small antlers would forever be important "trophies" to him, symbols of that beautiful opening day in the woods. In future years, they would often trigger yet another recall of this pleasant memory.
He blinked from his reverie, startled back to the bright reality of the woods around him. His thin smile had involuntarily become a grin, and his heart felt warm from the few minutes of remembering that fine day. He looked down at the carbine in his hands, smiled wider, raised it to his face and planted a kiss on its walnut stock. He looked around him, soaking in the beauty of these woods and feeling the forest's pull on his heart and mind.
Refreshed, he moved on.
Russ
Chastain
