I will never consider myself to be an art connoisseur, but there is a painting hanging in our home that resonates heavily with me every time I look at it.
Handsomely matted and framed, it’s a numbered and signed print of a 1998 Ramone Hanley-Warren watercolor. Dull, earthy-colored lights and darks create subtle contrast, and set the perfect mood for a simple, but powerful outdoor scene.
An aging, white-haired man dressed in a buffalo plaid jacket, blue jeans and a green cap scratches his cheek while looking toward the ground. A Maine game warden stands in front of him, holding a rifle and a handful of cartridges under the beam of a second warden’s flashlight, who stands guard just behind the hunter.
A dead antlerless deer with a crimson-stained bullet hole in its neck is at their feet. Barely visible in the background is the ghostly outline of a pickup truck with its tailgate down, undoubtedly intended as the getaway vehicle.
It’s a classic night hunting scene, and aptly named “Vigilant Rewards.”
To a Maine game warden, catching a night hunter in the act is a rite of passage, and a badge of honor.
I can’t speak for all game wardens, but I am confident that if asked, nearly all of them would rank working night hunting activity during deer season at the top of their list of preferred duties.
For most, the mere thought of it conjures up a sense of tradition, excitement and purpose. And like many, the opportunity to work night hunters was a driving force in my decision to become a Maine game warden.
It’s easy to become burned out, frustrated and disgruntled as a warden, especially during busy spring and summer seasons. But then the leaves change color, woodsmoke fills the air and you find yourself in the cold cab of your truck, tucked neatly into a hiding spot while waiting for a beam of light to cut through the darkness in front of you.
That first sip of hot coffee from my thermos at 2 a.m. was all I ever needed to remind me that I was living the dream.
It took me 27 nights over the course of two deer seasons to catch my first night hunters. Late that second season, our section had been extremely busy, and we were all exhausted.
But I refused to give up, and planned to work in an area I had received some good information about a few days earlier. Unable to convince any of my section mates to tag along, I settled in for a lonely, cold, all-night sit just after 8 p.m.
The setup was perfect. An old house under renovation close to the road offered good cover, and a small opening in the woods just off the driveway was the perfect hidey-hole for my truck. Next to the house was a small field with several apple trees, and directly across the road was a larger field that nearly always had deer in it.
I covered the truck’s headlights with a blanket, then did my best to keep my eyes open.
Just after 4 a.m., lights from an approaching vehicle hit the gable end of the old house. A silver car slowed nearly to a stop in the road just a few yards from me as a beam of light swept back and forth across the field from the passenger side window. The car slowly crept a bit more, and a beam of light danced across the smaller field from the driver’s side window.
I could hardly believe what I was seeing, and as a shot of adrenaline hit me like a ton of bricks, I focused on my next move.
As the car drove away, I tore the blanket off the front of my truck, jumped back in, put it in drive, and slowly made my way onto the road. The sky was clear, and a nearly full moon allowed me to see well enough to drive without headlights. When necessary, I gently worked the emergency brake instead of the brake pedal so the lights wouldn’t give me away.
I soon caught up to the car as the people in it illuminated another field from the driver’s side window. With the flip of a switch, the darkness erupted into a sea of flashing blue lights, and the jig was up.
Both men in the car had rifles, ammunition, flashlights and admitted to lighting the fields to look for deer, which was more than enough to charge them each with night hunting. I seized the rifles and ammunition, then sent the men on their way with a couple well-deserved summonses.
Catching a night hunter not only is an opportunity to hold the most intentional of violators accountable, but doing so is also steeped in tradition, and held in the highest regard among Warden Service ranks.
Respect from fellow wardens is earned. Faith and trust from the local hunting community is gained. The resource has been admirably protected, and just as the painting suggests, vigilance has been rewarded.
