The first kill
Mid November and there I was; muzzle loader in hand with 3 feet of snow on the ground. My feet freezing, two day stubble gone hoary. Skin numb to the touch. As near as I could figure, he was a year-old spike not entirely sure how to cross a fast flowing creek of snow and icy water. I tracked him through the scope as he walked through bullet-busting brush and dense tree cover - hesitant to squeeze the trigger until I had a clear shot.
He paused at the streams edge, looked up and away from me. The rifle roared, the world grew silent, and the sulfur smell of burnt black powder singed my nostrils. The deer jumped, cleared the stream in a single bound and disappeared from sight.
Shit, shit, shit...! Your first deer and you missed, you imbecile!
I gathered my shaking wits, folded up the little swivel seat, slung the now useless muzzle loader on my shoulder and crept the 80 yards to the waters edge. Feet of rubber, hands shaking. Funny, my face feels hot, I said to myself.
The fresh white snow was drenched with the spatter of blood. Got him..!
He was piled up less than 30 yards away in a tight clump of trees. A blind man could have tracked him, I suppose. I turned him over, still warm to the touch. Shaking hands went for the camera phone. Idiot that I was, the nice camera was in the car. I was tired hunting a few weeks in a row, and had decided that the minimalist approach was the best. Gear not directly related to killing a deer gets left behind. Ah well.
Field dressing was quite the interesting experience. I was already sweating in twenty degree weather. It was 4:00 pm. Darkness not so far away. I took off my jacket, vented out some of the heat, wiped as much sweat from me as I could. I slipped on the dressing gloves, got out the knife and twine. Then I went over the instructions I had so meticulously practiced in my head. It was a complete blank. Idiota...! Working with the fading light, I had to improvise. Okay, have to get the guts out, cannot puncture any of it and spoil the meat. Then I need to cool the meat down. Okay, okay, thats all I need to know... and so I got started.
Surprisingly easy, once you get the hang of it. Like unzipping a coat. I cut the esophagus, then pulled the all the organs out with relative ease, cutting away every so often at the connecting tissues. The rest was easy. Plenty of snow on the ground, which I packed the cavity with. After cleaning up, tying the carcass up to a harness I was off to my car.
Not so fast!
Two miles of snow covered trails are in my way. So I start dragging 100 pounds of deer through the ground. Not a trifling task, let me tell you. That next turn in the path looks easy enough when all you are packing is a 6 lb rifle. Getting my deer back to base camp took over an hour.
Finally, it was over. Wrapped in a tarp in the back of the car. My first deer. My first kill. I remember howling at the gray sky. At the moon hiding from my grinning face. At everyone who had snickered at the city boy who thought he could teach himself to hunt. This is my deer, my meat, and you better ask me politely if you want some.
He paused at the streams edge, looked up and away from me. The rifle roared, the world grew silent, and the sulfur smell of burnt black powder singed my nostrils. The deer jumped, cleared the stream in a single bound and disappeared from sight.
Shit, shit, shit...! Your first deer and you missed, you imbecile!
I gathered my shaking wits, folded up the little swivel seat, slung the now useless muzzle loader on my shoulder and crept the 80 yards to the waters edge. Feet of rubber, hands shaking. Funny, my face feels hot, I said to myself.
The fresh white snow was drenched with the spatter of blood. Got him..!
He was piled up less than 30 yards away in a tight clump of trees. A blind man could have tracked him, I suppose. I turned him over, still warm to the touch. Shaking hands went for the camera phone. Idiot that I was, the nice camera was in the car. I was tired hunting a few weeks in a row, and had decided that the minimalist approach was the best. Gear not directly related to killing a deer gets left behind. Ah well.
Field dressing was quite the interesting experience. I was already sweating in twenty degree weather. It was 4:00 pm. Darkness not so far away. I took off my jacket, vented out some of the heat, wiped as much sweat from me as I could. I slipped on the dressing gloves, got out the knife and twine. Then I went over the instructions I had so meticulously practiced in my head. It was a complete blank. Idiota...! Working with the fading light, I had to improvise. Okay, have to get the guts out, cannot puncture any of it and spoil the meat. Then I need to cool the meat down. Okay, okay, thats all I need to know... and so I got started.
Surprisingly easy, once you get the hang of it. Like unzipping a coat. I cut the esophagus, then pulled the all the organs out with relative ease, cutting away every so often at the connecting tissues. The rest was easy. Plenty of snow on the ground, which I packed the cavity with. After cleaning up, tying the carcass up to a harness I was off to my car.
Not so fast!
Two miles of snow covered trails are in my way. So I start dragging 100 pounds of deer through the ground. Not a trifling task, let me tell you. That next turn in the path looks easy enough when all you are packing is a 6 lb rifle. Getting my deer back to base camp took over an hour.
Finally, it was over. Wrapped in a tarp in the back of the car. My first deer. My first kill. I remember howling at the gray sky. At the moon hiding from my grinning face. At everyone who had snickered at the city boy who thought he could teach himself to hunt. This is my deer, my meat, and you better ask me politely if you want some.
Labels: hunting
posted by Suman Palit at
9:13 PM
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