Deer hunting鈥檚 social side
Deer hunting holds many pleasures, and people who hunt deer do so for a range of reasons. Surveys of hunter motivations reveal that some participants are drawn to the intimate contact with nature and place that hunting deer offers. Others are lured by the technical facets, and enjoy using trail cameras and fine-tuning ammunition they reload themselves. Some hunters seek the high-quality meat a hunt can provide. And for another segment of hunters, it鈥檚 sharing the experience with family and friends that makes a day in the deer woods so worthwhile. If further pressed, though, most hunters would concede that what keeps them buying a license is the rewarding blend of those benefits.
On opening day last Monday my companions and I briefly sampled all those rewards but fully savored deer hunting鈥檚 social side.
To fully convey a sense of our day, I should first explain that, for us, hunting is often a solo experience. Even if we go hunting 鈥渢ogether,鈥� we may not see one another from dawn to dusk, each of us alone, watching trails deep in the woods or padding slowly along, scanning the cover ahead. My wife has expressed puzzled amusement that we speak of hunting 鈥渢ogether,鈥� yet may never see one another or speak a word during early December鈥檚 10 daylight hours. It鈥檚 a different way of sharing a day than when she and her friends hit the golf course.
Our opening day started in solo mode, with all four of us (It鈥檚 dwindled over time, as regrettably happens.) in our chosen positions. The pre-dawn wait was a cold one, but the morning warmed when the sun crested Chestnut Ridge and bathed the woods in rich, golden light.
A little after 9 o鈥檆lock, a single shot boomed from where I knew my son Aaron was stationed. Aaron lives in North Carolina, but after Thanksgiving he remains here at home long enough to hunt deer on the opener. He can hunt only one day before he needs to return to work. So, to increase his odds for taking a deer, I鈥檝e enrolled property we hunt in DMAP (Deer Management Assistance Program), which permits limited shooting of antlerless deer, within the boundaries of specified properties, when they otherwise are not in season. The process requires a lot of paperwork and map-making for submission to the Game Commission, resulting in two DMAP tags. One of those is always reserved for Aaron.
A few minutes after the shot I eased around the wooded point until I could see Aaron, hunkered down and engaged in some task, his pack hung on a nearby tree. I knew his shot was lethal and he was field-dressing a deer.
I walked over and congratulated my son on taking a prime doe with one clean shot. He related he鈥檇 earlier seen eight others, including one buck that did not meet the legal standard, before this deer offered a responsible shot. He attached the tag and tied on his drag rope while I slung his emptied rifle over my shoulder for the trek down the ridge to our crude campsite that serves as a base.
Duayne was already there, deterred by the shirtsleeve temperatures, when Aaron emerged from the woods with his prize.
We hung Aaron鈥檚 deer on our camp pole, slipped a bag of ice into the body cavity and kindled a fire 鈥� less for warmth than for ritualistic effect. Soon after, Ron鈥檚 orange coat appeared through the trees and he joined the assembly.
We settled in on fireside chairs, rejected now by wives from domestic use but perfect for our rustic needs. In turn, everyone told of their morning鈥檚 deer sightings, the turkeys roosted overhead that flew down at dawn, and the coyotes howling and barking near Duayne鈥檚 traditional spot.
The day grew milder 鈥搕oo warm to 鈥渇eel right鈥� for hunting but keenly pleasant for taking it easy at a fire in the woods. As if to accommodate our ease, the ridge cast deep shade over Aaron鈥檚 deer, allowing it to chill.
Though I relish the solitude of an all-day hunt, when Aaron鈥檚 here for the season opener, I pack my truck for such a social occasion as we shared that day鈥揷amp stove, diverse food and snacks, some beverages that we might share when the rifles are unloaded, cased and stashed. Sometimes Ron makes his famous 鈥淚talian chili鈥� and brings it for reheating.
This year it would have complimented our gathering well, but so many times it鈥檚 happened that no one killed a deer, we all stayed in the woods and Ron鈥檚 chili went unappreciated.
We joked about the chili omission and settled for deerburgers from a 2016 kill, medium-rare (nobody鈥檚 fussy at fireside) with onions and slabs of melted cheese, sizzled on my camp-stove that has yielded so many shared feasts. Few things go better with food than laughs, woodsmoke, quiet woods and fond tales re-told.
We didn鈥檛 bring home a wide rack of antlers, and only one of us achieved 鈥渟uccess鈥� in its most narrow definition. We did, though, share a rich and memorable day outdoors. I鈥檒l be back, as long as I can.