First Light

Four-forty-five AM alarms suck.

Well, most days anyway. Today is opening day of deer season in Michigan. November 15, for many, is as exciting as Christmas morning. Several hundred thousand hunters go afield in hopes of bagging a trophy buck or, at least, some venison for the freezer. I didn’t grow up in a hunting family, but as an adult, I’ve taken to the sport with the help and guidance of many good friends.

By 4:50, I had the coffee started and turned on the news while waiting for two compatriots to arrive. Three of us would be hunting the farm this morning: Craig in a tree stand along the western border of the property, Jack in the “playhouse” – a kids’ play structure converted to a nobler use (though, we did leave the yellow plastic steering wheel in place. . .something to do if deer are scarce!) – and I will occupy the “Blue Heron.” The Blue Heron is a roughly 12 by 12 structure with a shingled roof, insulation, sliding windows, a small heater, and a couple of La-Z-Boy chairs. Did I mention that roughing it wasn’t a necessary condition to enjoying the great outdoors?

Craig brought McDonald’s breakfast sandwiches and Jack was (as expected) about a half hour late. We all were moving a bit slow – our goal was to be in our stands by 6:00 AM. Six-fifteen will have to do.

I have a six-wheeled ATV that serves the farm well. This morning, Jack and I loaded up (Craig would walk to his stand) and I dropped Jack off at the play structure. . .I headed WSW to the Blue Heron.

Unloaded into the blind, and eased into a recliner, I very carefully planned my hunting strategy – at least until I woke myself up snoring. The sun peeked over the eastern fields and shadows began to belie the presence of deer. Sure enough, there are two just south of me foraging where soybeans stood just days ago.

There really isn’t a good angle from my position for a shot. Had I opted for a tree stand to the south of me, conditions would have been ideal. I’ll have to risk scaring them off by going outside.

The door moans softly as I ease it ajar. . .the blind has a small porch and the boards creak an alarm to the deer. They face my direction with bright ears and flight on their minds. I’m frozen. The larger of the two kicks up her heels and bolts about 20 yards west. The other puts its snout to the ground. I decide I don’t have enough light to make a clean shot and retreat back into the blind.

Pacing, waiting for more sun, hoping the deer remain. It’s about 6:50 and I have a small coffee buzz. Time to ease back outside.

The two are still there and in range. Getting the angle is the hardest part. I draw on the big doe – she stares right at me and bolts. Rats. Surprisingly, the other deer stands its ground and is easily acquired in the crosshairs. Bang. The deer immediately drops without even a rattle. I’ve met my goal of a quick (and humanely as possible) kill.

It’s a yearling weighing about 100 lbs on the hoof so it will yield around 30 – 40 lbs of usable venison. I’ll spend the morning skinning and quartering the deer and putting the meat into the refrigerator until I can do the fine butchering later this evening. Generally, I’ll cut and wrap roasts and grind the balance to make breakfast sausage. The deer will be honored at several meals.

Hunting, admittedly, isn’t for everyone. With more Whitetail Deer in North America now than when the pilgrims arrived, I argue that this is a food source worth tapping. And yes, there are some yahoos who give hunters a bad name – just as there are yahoos who give anti-hunters a bad name. I do know that later this week, I’ll enjoy a venison roast, medium rare, with a homemade apple syrup glaze.