Thanksgiving Day Buck

Fiction by Tom Remington Download the Audio Version of This Article
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I heard the door to the bathroom across the hall quietly close and could see a light shining through the space at the bottom of the door. I grappled with reality trying to decide whether I was dreaming or awake. I looked at the red glowing numbers on my alarm clock and reality came crashing down. It was 4:07am.
Dad was up, this being his usual time anyway. He was raised on a family farm and ever since he was a young boy, his father made him get up by 4:30 and help with the chores before the long walk to school.

I was sure glad I didn’t live back in the “good ole days” as they were called. I have also heard of those good ole days being called “those trying times”. But today was different – or so I was trying to convince myself.

 

My Dad and I were both avid hunters. Today was Thanksgiving Day, which meant it was very close to the end of the season and neither of us had had much luck. Dad had passed on a small buck the previous Saturday and I had only caught glimpses of a few does and an occasional white tail waving good-bye.

 

I rubbed the sand out of my eyes and with a loud groan, I turned and sat on the side of the bed. My little brother was fast asleep. When my feet hit the floor, it seemed much too cold so I slipped on a pair of L.L. Bean acorn slippers and headed downstairs.

 

Thankfully there was a bathroom off the kitchen that I could use as Dad was still tying up the upstairs one. I stumbled down the stairs and turned right at the bottom headed for the kitchen. On the way to the refrigerator, I passed the back door. Something possessed my to turn the outside light on. It was snowing hard with about 4 inches on the ground.

I love hunting on snow and now my pulse quickened and my eyes broadened widely. I raced back up the stairs and knocked excitedly on the bathroom door. “Dad. It’s snowing like crazy out! Did you see?” I said trying hard to keep the noise down but it was hard with all the building excitement.

All I could hear on the other side of the door was a moan, so down the stairs I went to get something to eat and gather my gear.

We decided over some bacon and eggs that the swamp would be the place to go. There would be a lot of hunters out today and the big bucks would be headed for the swamp. Not many hunters will venture into this swamp. It is massive with mostly cedar trees growing close together and nearly all of them the same size. It is easy to get lost in there.

We gathered our gear, loaded up the truck and away we went. I was pumped. I knew this was going to be an eventful day.

We parked on the old logging road as far in as you could drive and crammed everything we could into our backpacks. It was still very dark so we donned our headlamps and with guns unloaded, we headed into the swamp.

Dad knew the way. He had made this trek hundreds of times before it seemed, so I just followed him. The woods were quiet and the heavy blanket of snow muffled any sound. The snow depth was increasing rapidly as the white stuff came down at a nearly blinding pace.

We reached the spot where Dad always set up camp. First order of business was to ready the campsite for the day. We gathered some dry firewood and stacked it near the opening where we sometimes had a fire. Dad checked his watch. Even though it was still very dark, it was legal hunting time. The thick layer of storm clouds was prohibiting any morning light from shining through.

Dad always assumed I could read his mind. He would never offer much information and would depend on me knowing what his plan was. “Do you want to sit first or hunt?” he asked.

“I’ll sit first,” I answered.

I took up a stand near where a small brook slowly meanders through the swamp. The brook had not yet frozen over because of a mild November so far. I like the spot where I waited and Dad knew where I’d be because I always went there.

From my stand I could see only about 30 yards through the dense growth but that was a long distance in that swamp. I got under a relatively small cedar tree and sat down on my hot seat.

Dad would make a circle first staying about 100-200 yards out from my stand. When he returned it was my turn while he sat. We each did this one time and then retreated to the campsite for some lunch.

By the time we had returned to camp, the snow was easing and the sky was getting lighter. We knew the storm was coming to an end. There was about 8 inches total on the ground. It was dry and fluffy.

We built a fire and roasted some hot dogs while we discussed our plans for after lunch. Dad ate his lunch and said very little. I hounded him with one question after another. I knew I was driving him crazy but I didn’t care. I was still too excited.

Once lunch was over, Dad laid out a plan. I was going back to my favorite sitting spot and he was going to his. He explained to me that with the weather breaking, the deer would begin to move. With several hunters beating the perimeter of the swamp, any deer left outside would be coming in and those already in the swamp wouldn’t be going too far.

We split up and I returned to my spot. I knew I would be here until the end of legal hunting so I made sure I was comfortable. The waiting began.

A breeze began to pick up out of the northwest – typical in Maine right after a snowstorm. Large clumps of snow began falling out of the trees making for patches of whiteouts and bouncing limbs. It would be difficult to pick up movements of deer in this weather but still I waited patiently.

Over the next couple of hours, the snow had been blown out of the trees and you could hear the roar of the winds howling up on the side of Baker Mountain. The temperatures were dropping as well. I was beginning to lose my patience.

I was getting cold and anxious for the sun to set so I could get out of the woods and get warmed up and some hot turkey. Mom always planned Thanksgiving Day dinner for the evening, as she knew we would be in the woods all day. Right now my mind was on turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, squash and all them delicious home made pies.

I watched the opening through the cedar trees struggling to concentrate. I wondered what Dad was doing.

I heard a crow – caw, caw, caw as he flew by overhead and out in front of me. I remember Dad telling me once that every forest noise tells you something if you pay attention. Soon a red squirrel began to chatter angrily at something or someone. I guessed that my Dad was coming and he had run out of patience too.

Luck was in my favor today. I wasn’t doing many things right on my stand but I was rewarded anyway. From out of nowhere, directly in front of me stood a buck. I had heard nothing and seen nothing, yet there he was. Racing through my mind, I could still hear the crow and the squirrel and I hadn’t paid much attention.

Putting into practice the countless times Dad had told me how to move slowly, I began to raise my British .303. I knew all the while I was preparing to aim, the buck would bolt in a flash and leave me sitting there dumb founded.

But he didn’t seem in too much of a hurry. He raised his head high and stretched his neck long, sniffing the air. Did he smell me? Maybe Dad was coming. Did he smell a doe and was ready to give chase?

As soon as the deer entered my peep sight and it was on his front shoulder, I squeezed the trigger. I couldn’t hear anything but the ringing in my ears and the deer was gone. I even began to question whether or not I had actually seen a deer.

I looked at my gun and then put the safety back on. I took out the clip and added one bullet to replace the one I just spent. Then, I walked over to where I thought the deer had stood. Right in front of me was a big patch of hair but no blood. Disappointment began to fill me up. I couldn’t believe there was no blood. It should be so easy to find in this snow.

I looked in the direction the deer ran and saw nothing. I debated whether to wait for Dad to show up but decided this was my deer and my effort. I’ll let him have his hunt.

I circled around the thicket that the buck plowed his way through and when I got to the other side, I not only found his tracks but I found a trail of blood. I was renewed with excitement and began to shake.

I only had to go about another 20 yards before I found my prize lying in a heap among the cedar trees. I had only noticed when I shot, that the deer had horns. I hadn’t realized just how big this deer was. As I approached, I could easily count 5 large tines on the half pointing up. The other side was a perfect match – a ten pointer!

Dad arrived within minutes and it was sure nice to see a big grin on his face as he admired the big buck. I think he was excited too and wanted to know all the details. Once we got the deer out of the woods and into the tagging station, he weighed up at 236 pounds.

Now I could go home and get some hot turkey!