November 4, 2007

• And the continuing saga continues.... wait, the continuing saga continues?  That really sounds stupid!
  
  The Slide
  
  Remember that I'm still hunting. 
  That is, hunting while moving, but moving so slowly that it's like I'm
  standing still.  It takes a very long time to cover a short distance,
  but it's a prime way to move in on game.  At the same time, it's also a
  good way to make the deer move at a slow pace towards where my Dad and
  brother were sitting on a tree stand.  We're
  trying to get a deer in so my 87 year old Dad can get a deer with his
  bow, something that he has yet to achieve in his many years.  
  
  While
  trying to move slowly through the thickets around an old saw mill, I
  came to a place that I've been many, many times in the past.  I
  remember this shale rock slide so well, with the mountain-goat-like
  deer trail cutting around a very precarious drop that I've never tried
  to navigate.  I'm not the brave, nor that foolhardy!  I walked over to
  a huge rock that juts out over the slide so that I can survey the flat
  area below it.  Two deer meander slowly below me and towards the stand
  where my partners sit.  My inclinometer says that it's only a 59° angle
  to the bottom that is 28' below.  It would be an easy shot for my bow,
  but it would be hours to drag even a small deer out of that area due to
  having to take the deer down the long hill through thick undergrowth to the valley below.  The
  slide would keep me from bringing the deer up to my level, unless I
  wanted to make a long walk back to camp to get a hoist and rope...and I
  didn't.  Plus, the main objective in this place was to move those deer
  ever slowly, un-alarmed towards my Dad.
  
  As they moved out of
  sight in the undergrowth, I felt a small stir.  After several years of
  coming to this friendly place and standing in this exact spot, I was
  betrayed like a lover whose love has gone to someone else.  The rock I
  was standing on decided to give away a piece of itself about the size
  where both my boots were grounded.  As it began it's plummet to the
  bottom, my rear end made contact with the remaining rock before the
  rest of me plummeted to the bottom with it.  The ride was quick, rocky
  nonetheless, and adrenaline filled.  I shot a little arrow prayer
  towards the heavens while I tried to keep my arms and legs inside the
  ride at all times.
  
  When
  the dust cleared, I was laying at the
  bottom holding my bow high in the air as if it were a priceless
  heirloom.  My trusty fanny pack had again cushioned some of the ride,
  but now I was starting to cough from the dust.  More shale was
  following, but none large enough to put too big a dent in me.  I laid
  my bow across my
  lap, after sitting up of course, and pulled out my canteen to rinse
  some of the dirt out of my mouth and eyes.  Another whispered prayer of
  thanks that I had again survived the evil rocks in an area that was
  about 300 yards from the previous day's excursion.
  
  I looked to
  my right and saw the slowly raised flags of the whitetails as they
  walked away from me.  I'm sure they had a smile on their faces and
  probably couldn't wait to tell there friends about the silly human
  sliding down the shale rock slide.  I slowly got to my feet, made sure
  that it was solid ground, wiped and dusted myself off, and began the
  trek through the thicket that would two hours later bring my to the location
  of my Dad and brother.
  
  Another story to tell Dad?  No, why
  bother him and make him worry?  Dad did see several deer that day.  He
  said they all seemed happy.
  
  That was Day 2 of the hunting escapades.
  
  Three Bucks
  
  I've seen 3 different bucks in the area where I'm hunting.   One is a nice 6 pointer (Eastern count).  Then there's the little forkhorn and the spike.  I've seen the 6 pointer twice now in the same spot.  Will the third time be a charm?
  
  The FogWalker goes to eat a late supper....and ponder the wonders of the previous week...
  

  • 11:00 pm
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