Deer hunting in the UP is packed with tradition but is not for the weak, warm blooded or impatient. I woke to 18 degrees just before 5 AM today the 15th of November. I put on as many layers of clothes as I could. Then, just before leaving the cabin I decided I had better take a layer or two off or I'd end up half cooked before reaching my perch which sat about 300 yards due west.
As I took my first couple of steps into the snow covered woods I was greeted by a mystical twinkle of stars and snow crystals glimmering beneath the near full moonlight. I fill my lungs with the cold moist air of the morning soul and my primal hunter is awoken. Thank God for deer hunting I whisper to all willing to listen. Thank God for all your creation I proclaim just abit louder to my Redeemer.
One foot in front of the other, carefully feeling for sticks with each tender step down the trail...
Slow and quiet so as to scare nothing. The journey into the dark woods is always an exuberating experience. For me it is a fairly complex mosaic of intertwined emotions; 😨 (fear), 😅 (anxiety), 🙄(anticipation), 🤯(urgency), 😶(focus), periodic 🥵panic followed by deep breathing and forced 😤relaxation. It is a fun experience but there are times when I'm truly scared or really truly alive!
...As my eyes begin to adjust, I'm nearly immersed into the darkness as a glance east shows the faded warm light of the cabin. A couple of football fields later I believe I've arrived at the carefully selected tree I have dreamed about for the last 360 days, no maybe more like the last 20 days. Wait a minute, I pause then think, "Is that the correct tree? Hmm, no", "Augh!😤, Where in the world!". I suppose everything can't go as scripted, right? I replay my steps back, I study the silhouetted tree tops and sure enough after spinning around a couple times I've left with no choice. I reach for my compass and flashlight. I find north, look east then south and strategiclly shine my light here, then there, over there, then back, "there she is", I whisper under a breath of relief and sort of celebration. Although it hints at the comparison of settling for a field goal, coming up 15 yds short of the goalline. So much for tiptoeing in since I just sent out a warning beacon to all woodland creatures, explicitly telling them all that there's a guy from the city in the woods and he has a gun! I listen but no sounds of scampering legs; they likly ran long ago I think to myself.
I climb the 17 and a half foot ladder to a tiny platform where I nestle my overly clothed body against the "chosen one", a large multi- stem maple tree. At first I feel drips of sweat glide down my back. These droplets of warmth quickly turn to tiny shivers that shake the very caps of my knees. I bundle up and settle in for my 12 hour sit with nature.
