Bummed Out

I've made no mystery about the fact that I feel depressed when football season is over.  A big void enters my world, one vast February wasteland of frigid temps and no football.  I hate that.  This late in the football season it's always at the back of my mind that the more I enjoy, the closer the end gets.  I got a little taste of that today.  For the first time in my life, I'm actually depressed that hunting season is over.

It's not that I got skunked, which I did.  But I did get a shot off, which pleased me to no end.  I managed to get myself into a tight spot up on a point above the ridge I was hiking, where the drop before me and to the east was impassable, and the slide to the west wasn't a whole lot better.  It was too steep for stable footing and snowy/iced up to boot.  I kinda zigged-zagged my way down, until I hit a passable game trail, and then followed it to the bottom.  As the ground leveled out before the trail, I broke out of the brush and there was a doe, just standing there looking at this moron who was standing there looking at her.  She was about 50 yards away, and she moved up the slope on the other side, revealing another muley standing broadside to me about 10 yards behind her.  I knew that was a buck; every instinct told me it was.  But I couldn't see his hat.  He was behind a Ponderosa pine, with his neck dipped just looking at me.  I could see his snout and his eyeballs, that's it.  I slowly slid the Mag off my shoulder, and sighted him through the scope, but I wasn't going to take the shot until I knew he was a he.  We stood like that for 3 minutes (that is no lie) and by the time he moved, I was wobbling so bad I couldn't have hit  Godzilla at that range.  That bastard didn't even flinch when I flicked the safety off.  My younger brother would have taken that shot, consequences be damned.  But I had to know it was buck, and I couldn't tell.  I'm kinda stupid that way.

By this time, 2 more does had moved out of the brush on my side and joined the first headed up the hill across from me.  They just stood there in a bunch staring at me, like the fricken brides of Dracula.  And the deer behind the tree didn't move any either.  Finally, that bastard moved back behind the brush and up the hill.  I sighted in on the clear point near the crest where I thought he'd have to come out, and sure enough, he did.  He was at a trot by then, and angled away from me.  I saw that he was a fair sized four by four; 'had to be big to have a harem of three.  I pulled up and fired ... and went clean over his back.  Bastard.  Over the hill he went.  Bye bye.

Even after I shot, those twisted sisters just kept looking at me.  As my father-in-law suggested, they were probably thinking: "shit, you can't hit nothin' anyway ...".  Then they turned butt and headed over the hill with the buck.  Damn.

That was an evening hunt.  My niece and I headed up the next morning to see if we could catch the deer headed back across from the west rise to the eastern clearings.  We had one asshole buck fake us out.  I could smell him, but he was bedded about 20 yards to our rear, and when he ran, we only saw his backside.  We found a nice group of does up on the top ... but no buck with them.  My niece had a horrible thought.  They were alone because the distant shot we'd heard about 30 minutes before was somebody else taking down the buck.  AAAHHHHGGGG!

Seriously, I had more damned fun hunting this year then I have had doing most things in one helluva long time.  I got skunked because I never planned for hunting more than a couple of hours at a time.  Poor planning, late season prep, yada yada ...  Hunting is probably about 5% prep, 55% luck, 50% skill and 100% perseverance.  (yeah, I know that's more than 100 ... just shut up.)

But there is next year to look forward to.  Problem is, there's a long frosty time until that comes.  Don't get me wrong; I'm bummed, not mad.  Life doesn't owe me a kill, or a season, or anything.  I value these because I can take them, I can earn them.  I'm unhappy that this season is done, over, finished ... but I'm hungry for next year.

And Gerik, if you read this and come on in next year, I'd love to stomp the ground on your spots with you.  Let me know.

Comments

[Stan]

Like I said, this is just trash. You need a hobby or some volunteer work or something. I really see why most of your posts elicite at most 2 comments. Because you have nothing in your life worth talking about.

"I woke up, bummer, went outside, got the mail, and went back inside, turned on CNN." Who cares?

[Jon]

Stan...... Have you even *met* the man? Many of us have you know. And from that perspective you seem like a petty and pointless person.

[cece]

I for one liked the story, especially the part where the buck skunked you. lol.

I am still getting used to this hunting culture again, and I like the fact that you were out in the woods, being patient, waiting for the right clear clean shot, and the buck got away.

Sorry for you though, but happy for the buck.

[Wulfgar]

Like I said, this is just trash.

Like you said? You've never commented here before, Stanley. You really shouldn't talk back to the voices in your head, you know.

And certainly you must see how idiotic it is to suggest that someone 'get a hobby' when they've just described having spent the last several weeks hunting, don't you? So Stanley, other than acting like a total moron on the Internet, what do you do that's of interest?

In the future, if you simply must be an asshole, at least try to do it with a small amount of intelligence. Thanks.

[Matt]

Hey man, remember duck/ goose season goes long my friend. Just think there are MONTHS of frustration left! Well, it's frustration of the best kind. Great story - even though I filled my tags this year I can totally identify with your hunting saga. We've all got one or two of those (or a dozen, who's counting?)

And, never mind Stan. He's a tool. One man's trash in another's treasure. Clearly he's never been on the hunt, or understands why that is such an important part of being a Montanan for some. He can pass judgment elsewhere.

[Sheila N]

I have to admit that I am happy for the deer - they are sooo pretty! And fawns are just too too cute! So no sympathy here!

[Gerik]

Wulfgar, There is room for you in Fergus County no doubt. My place is barely three hours from Boz Angeles' front door, just behind Eddies Corner. I will be around for hunting season again, but I have a funny feeling there is another run of life left for me in this rainy neck of the woods. I will explain later and I will take you up on the invitation!

[maureen]

Please come over to Helena and shoot a few of our pesky urban deer. (just kidding, but seriously -- I wish there were some kind of hunt allowed in the city limits. It's getting out of hand here and the people who say "awww, the deer are so beautiful/cute. We should leave them alone ..." are just in denial of the growing problem. Eventually if we do nothing, even they will be sqwuaking (sp?omg) about why the city isn't doing something!

I know, it's off the subject but everytime I read about Montana hunters I can't help but think about the deer who have eaten every last bit of green in our garden. sigh.

btw, people like stan should get a life.