Hunting Season

Journal entry by Ann — Nov 4, 2017
This is the time of year men, boys, and even girls go into the woods. They layer up to keep warm. Strap on their boots to walk about or just to sit in the stand. They wear bright orange not because it looks good on them, but because it will keep them safe. They set up camp, prepare food, and with anticipation wait for the day to begin.
I imagine them waking to the cold November morning not wanting to get out if their sleeping bags with just the tip of their nose being ever so cold. The warmth of their breath meeting the cold of the day sending a jolting shock to their lungs as they try to breath in the morning air. They take the brisk walk to the deer stand that they had placed up in the trees days before. Carefully they climb the ladder until they are sitting in the chair strategically placed by the opening they will spend hours peering through. They begin watching for the slightest movement beyond and near the trees. With tilted heads listening for the faintest rustling of branches or the snap of a twig on the ground.
I imagine upon hearing any sound a rush of adrenaline would quicken the beats of their heart and rapid breaths would have to be quickly quieted. They begin to scan the field or forest to match the movements with the sounds they have just heard. Yes, there it is the ten point buck they had patiently hoped for. I imagine them raising their gun, peering through the scope, aiming at the target, taking a deep breath and exhaling ever so slowly. Fire. The sound of the gun echoing out in the still of the morning, the bullet whistling through the chilled air, and the target being hit just beyond the trees. The hunter anxiously waits for the proper amount of time to pass, climbs down the ladder, and begins to track the deer he hopes fell to the ground instantly because it was a perfect shot.
Now I will stop there because I don’t want to think about the events that take place after the deer is down. I know the process, but just don’t want to think about it. I am not even a venison eater. My mind won’t let me get past cute little Bambi running gracefully through the field and then it is on the dinner table!
None of the above writings do I not know from any experience. It is only a picture in my mind that I am sure I will never actually see play out. As for me I am not any kind of a hunter. I don’t even kill lady bugs that happen to get in our house I pick them up and place them outside so they can carry on some where else. I know your all thinking of the squirrel post I wrote before, but because of Logie they fall in a different category! If your wondering, no, I still haven’t shot one of those, YET!!
This was one of Logan’s favorite times of the year. The preparing with his dad and just being away with boys for a time was something he looked forward to. I am sad at the thought that he is not getting to take part in all the preparation that was done and the days of the hunt. I imagine it is a million time harder for Scott than it is for me. I am sure it will be very dusty for him this year in each things he does and that he can’t share it with Logan. Logan has been involved in the hunting process since he was 9. I picture many tears in the deer stands this year from Scott, the girls, and his friends. I am sure he is smiling down on those he loved sharing this season with while they carry on and continue to hold up the traditions. Robin, please don’t start your fires with gas, use a flint and a cotton ball or Logan will be disappointed!!
Hold us up in extra prayers as some difficult days are ahead in the next few months. Sending much love, Ann