1/1/2008-last legal hunt in MI. It was a beautiful night to hunt. 25 degrees, snow falling lightly, slight west breeze, silence and cold. I was hoping the deer would come into the turnips. They had been, despite the snow cover. We'd had some slight thawing over the weekend, and they were back to pawing through snow for the turnips. I had to decide where to sit-my north blind overlooking the corn bait I put out, or the turnips way in back. 50/50 odds. I chose the deep spot figuring if they come out of the swamp bed and head east across the back, I might have a chance to interscept them. It was a gamble.
I see nothing. Time passes slowly in the cold. Long underwear, sweat pants, jeans, and then heavy wool pants, t shirt, 2 shirts, and then a heavy coat, pull down hat all aren't enough to keep you warm for almost 2 hours sitting still. For almost 90 minutes I sat in silence, wondering where they were, what they were doing. 2 juncos, for the 2nd day in a row, flit into the arborvitae tree near me, apparently taking roost for the night in the dense cover. A red tail hawk screams nearby and then leaves. Mourning doves careen overhead, their flight almost out of control, but fast. More waiting.
I'm facing west but there is no sun. The snow and gray clouds block it out. The gray is everywhere, even, dense, dreary, foreboding. The snow slowly adds up in the blind. Darkness descends, slowly, evenly, peacefully. The mind is active, thinking, plotting, working scenarios, doubting, questioning my skill. My gun, cold and black, lays across my lap. I rest.
5:20. I glance left-south, and then, in absolute perfection of form, grace, and ability, they are there. A line of does, 10 or so, I cannot count fast enough. A lone buck, 7 points or so, is in the middle of them. They are running, medium speed, heading south west into the swamp to their bedding area. One bounds high, 8' or so, as if only to show off her form. I attempt to stop them, loudly emitting 'baaap', 'baaap', badly imitating a doe call. They never flinched. And just as quickly as they appeared, they are gone, into the thicket. My heart, still beating rapidly, slowly returns to normal. They never re-appeared.
And so the season ends on a mystical note. I waited till 5:45 and then exited the blind and walked back in the dark, snow, silence. Beautiful.
