The Hunter

Hank ran the old saying though his mind, "My worst day hunting is better than my best day at work." The version he originally heard involved fishing instead of hunting, but he guessed it was one of those things where you could substitute one activity for another. His worst day hunting, yeah, that phrase could describe any of the three days he spent over the holiday weekend. It might have been better than work, but not much.

It was a chilly weekend, but that actually was good, the cold often would get the deer moving. The rain normally helped too, but somehow, all the right conditions failed to produce any results. Well there was one result, Hank spent three days waking up at four in the morning and sitting in a deer blind for twelve or thirteen hours looking out at nothing.

If it hadn't been raining he might have been able to see a sunrise at least, or grab a peak at a sunset as he rode in the truck back to the cabin, but the sky remained a dismal grey for the entire trip. Even back at the cabin, he lost at poker, lost at backgammon and then they overcooked his steak.

Now if that was all there was, he could have simply doubled up on the Johnny Walker Red or Black Jack and salvaged at least something, but what jabbed him like a stick in his ribs was the luck some of the other guys had. Now mind you, these clowns wouldn't know how to stalk and kill a watermelon much less a deer, yet Hank had to watch as two of them hung and gutted two huge bucks.

"Yeah, there I was, barely had time to climb up into the blind, get my stuff out, my gun loaded and there it was, peeking out into the clearing. The feeder was set to dispense at about seven am and I guess the buck was just hungry. He walked out into the clearing, I took aim and got him, well wounded him..."

"Wounded him?" Hank complained, "Hell, you were in a blind and you only wounded it?"

"I chased him down and finished him."

Hank just shook his head and looked over at Pete, the other lucky hunter, "And you?"

"I got him with one shot," Pete replied indignantly. "At my blind the feeder went off about 9:30 that morning. I watched about a half a dozen does wander though, then one spike and finally my buck came in."

And there it was, these two clowns had their bucks and Hank had yet to see deer one on the trip. So the other guys spent the rest of the weekend shooting at cans and coyotes while Hank sat in his blind waiting to see a deer. At the end of the trip he simply loaded up and made the long drive home.

The sun was just setting as he pulled off the main road and headed for his subdivision when he glanced off into the trees. There up a small hill he saw it, a buck, must have been eight to ten pointer at least. A car was not far behind him otherwise he might have stopped to get a better look, instead he simply drove to his house.

That night he tossed and turned all night long thinking about that deer. After spending three days hunting out in the wide open spaces, where even a couple of clowns like Pete and Dave could spray enough bullets to get a deer, Hank had to spot his buck not a mile from his own house. He got up early the next morning and took the long way into work so he could pass through the woods and perhaps get another glimpse of the deer.

There was no traffic that early in the morning, so he drove slowly, and sure enough, not far from where he spotted him the afternoon before, he saw it. Pulling his truck onto the shoulder, he peered through the glass at the distant creature. He looked up at the horns and counted, one, two... up to twelve points!

Hank headed on into work and had to spend the day listening to recreations and exaggerations of the hunting trip as Pete and Dave both bragged of their success. All Hank could do was shrug his shoulders, talk about bad luck and think about that incredible buck wandering in the woods not a mile from his house.

He finished out the week at work, but because things were quite slow that time of year, he spent most of the day drawing doodles of the deer's rack and obsessing on that buck. Finally, by Friday afternoon he decided he had to do something. Once again, taking the long way home, he spotted the deer in a clearing not far from the road, but with the traffic around him, he couldn't stop.

In the short drive to get to his house he worked on a plan and as he pulled into the driveway he committed himself to it. He woke up early that next morning, loaded his gun, slipped it in the back of his truck and headed out. Fortunately the moon was out so he was able to see pretty well. Sure enough, not far from the entrance onto the highway he spotted the deer in the distance.

He pulled off the road and spotted a trail wide enough for his truck. Easing down the dirt road a ways, he stopped his truck, grabbed his gun and headed out into the woods. Now his hunter's instincts took over as he moved quietly and effortlessly through the woods. This was how you hunted, you didn't climb up in a blind and wait for the deer to come for food like those two slobs at the office.

No, hunting was something you worked at, studying the deer, learning the terrain they moved in, paying attention to the wind direction, the weather and the time of day. Hank considered himself an expert, but unfortunately he didn't have those clowns along so he could show them just what it took to be a true hunter.

Of course, not only did Hank have to stalk the deer using his hunting abilities, in this case he had to consider the law. He was really not supposed to hunt here so close to the housing area. The fence he crossed made him sure he was trespassing, but that was simply another obstacle to overcome. He figured it was so early, he could shoot the deer, get it back to his truck and then get back on the road without incident. Once on the road no one could tell where the deer came from.

He walked carefully now, sensing he was close. Yes, even in the dim moonlight he could see it. There in the distance stood the deer, apparently foraging for food. It hadn't moved far from where Hank first spotted it, a certain sign that he had expertly stalked the animal without disturbing it. He reached a spot where he could remain concealed and still had a clear shot.

Carefully lifting his gun from his shoulder, he brought it up, carefully found the deer in his scope, slowly zooming in until he had his shot lined up. He slipped the safety off, breathed in and then held his breath as he slowly pulled the trigger. There was a single loud crack and though the gun recoiled, Hank kept his eyes on the deer.

It seemed to fall oddly and when he zoomed in with his scope the animal seemed stiff, its legs still sticking straight out. "Had the bullet paralyzed the animal?" Hank wondered. He shot for the upper shoulder hoping to kill the deer instantly by hitting the heart, so how could the deer be paralyzed? Perhaps his scope was off, maybe knocked askew as he hiked through the trees.

Well anyway, the animal was down in one shot and Hank had to move quickly. He hooked his arm through the strap on his gun and carefully jogged up to the clearing where the deer stood. Still in hunter's mode, he moved silently and efficiently up to the animal.

Strangely, when he got up to the animal he noticed that instead of a bullet wound and blood, there was merely a large chunk broken from the shoulder. He bent down to look closer when suddenly several bright lights shined at him.

A voice cried out, "Drop your weapon please."

Hank stood up, let the gun slide from his shoulder and settle onto the knee high grass. He held his hands in the air.

"Your knife too."

Hank reached to his belt, unsnapped the strap and dropped his knife to the ground then lifted his hands again.

"Please step away from your weapons."

Hank took several steps back and then remained motionless as three bright lights began bounding up and down as they moved closer to him. The shadows behind the lights came into view as he faced two policemen and one game warden.

"Sir, you understand that hunting this close to the housing developments is not legal."

Hank nodded as one police officer grabbed one of his hands, pulled it behind his back and snapped on a handcuff.

"Is that necessary officer?" Hank asked.

"Sorry, it's procedure," the officer replied, taking Hank's other hand and slipping the cuff on it. He led Hank back down a path in the woods and began reciting, "You have the right..."

Although his ears were ringing from the gunshot, Hank heard and understood every word the man said. He had used his superior hunting skills to stalk and kill a decoy and now he knew it would take a lot of money and a good lawyer to get out of this jamb. Fortunately, though completely incompetent as hunters, Pete and Dave were pretty good lawyers. Hank just wondered whether he could face telling them the truth now.

He looked out of the window and noticed the sunrise. The pink sky glowed beautifully as the police opened their car door and helped him climb inside.