It’s never easy coming to terms with it, but in a way, I’m always a bit relieved when it’s time to say goodbye each year.
Being able to move on with life for at least a few months allows me the opportunity to rest, relax, recharge and rejuvenate. But as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and with every day that passes, anticipation builds as I look forward to its annual rebirth.
It has been a three-month long roller coaster ride of excitement, frustration, anticipation and elation. For some, it ended in success, while others grappled with disappointment. Regardless, the end has come, and deer season is over.
Immediately after the season ends, I typically experience intense melancholy as reality sets in. I suddenly realize there will be no more early morning walks through the cold darkness of the deer woods. I’m all done sneaking to the back field for a quick hunt before work. Trail camera photos hold nowhere near the same value as they did the day before, and become more frustrating than ever when inevitably, a giant buck shows up just hours after the season closes.
The level at which I am affected by the condition directly depends on whether the season ends with the pull of a trigger or an unused tag. In the event of the former, symptoms are far more manageable, given the reversing qualities of success. Regarding the latter, however, I’ve been known at times to drift into a nearly inconsolable state, healed only by time, and fortitude.
My season ended in a ball of fire, a cloud of smoke and a perfect shot on a cautious doe I had my eye on since opening day. She was my first ever muzzleloader deer, and I was more than happy to take advantage of an antlerless tag that was burning a hole in my pocket.
Unlike the two previous muzzleloader seasons, when I pulled the trigger this time, not only did the gun go off properly, but there was also no pesky branch in the way to send the bullet harmlessly off course. I was impressed with how well the gun performed, and though the blood trail was slow to start, it was quite a rush to find her piled up at the base of a small fir tree in the snow. The memory was made even sweeter by our dear friend, Cathy Matthieu, and her daughter, Maddie, who very graciously braved the cold to assist with recovery efforts.
We have nothing to complain about with our banner season. My girlfriend, Emily, and I were very fortunate to each take nice bucks during rifle season, and adding a third deer will help round out the freezers nicely. Truthfully, it’s more meat than we need, but portions of it have been earmarked for family, friends and coworkers.
Sidelined by a health issue, my father was forced to sit the entire season out. I’m sure a few packages of back strap will make him and my mother smile. I’ve also promised to contribute some hearty wild game dishes for our crew dinners at work to help feed a station full of hungry firefighters, dispatchers and police officers through the winter.
Often, I have to remind myself that as hunters, we never stop learning, and should always be open to new ideas, approaches, or ways of thinking. I certainly learned my fair share of lessons this season, including how a simple shift in perspective, and subtle change in stand location might be all that’s needed to put a nice buck on the ground. I learned to better trust my instincts, and demonstrate a bit more faith in a certain spot instead of bouncing around like a ping pong ball. I learned heated vests should be standard issue for hunters, and I also learned to wear hearing protection next time I feel the need to touch off a muzzleloader from our little shack in the back field.
Father, son, brother, friend and partner are enormously important titles to hold in life. The gravity, and responsibilities of each simply cannot be rivaled. While I embrace them all, and do my best to identify accordingly, at my core, I am a deer hunter. As such, those few short fall months are precious, and coveted. This season was very special, and I am thankful for every second of it.
That said, I am tired. It’s time to clean rifles, pack away gear, be thankful for our successes, remember lessons learned, and start dreaming about next season.
