Well, the first day of deer season has has come and gone,
and I didn't see anything worth "Harvesting".
And I had to proverbially hit the proverbial dirt (fortunately it was actually moss) for the first time in my life!
My dad and I went out at sunrise and waited in the usual spot for twenty minutes or so.
After hearing some gun shots and not seeing anything we continued across the field and through the woods,
where we waited for another bit, and heard about 25 rapid gunshots form our rich Lancastrian neibors across the way.
After about the 40th shot we deduced that none of the deer were going to make it to us.
We then walked out of the woods and on to the pipe line where I was scared to death by two ruff necked grouse (a rare sight during
grouse season, but rather common during deer). We then marched up the line until we reached the barn.
Since we had never done so before, we decided to traverse the path through my Grandpas pine forest which looks out across the strip fields.
Now, this is where it gets interesting. Across the strips, over the road and on a portion of land known as Saxons Knob, another group of
avid sportsmen had gathered. Since I can't recall there names I shall refer to them as Tom, Dick and Harry.
Dick, lets say, walks down off the knob and across the road onto the Strips standing opposite Andrew and his Father who, because, although we notice him, are somewhat obscured by pine twigs. Now as Andrew and Father walk up the path, they scare out some little yearling deer (much smaller than I would shoot but, to them that's theirs). The deer come out of the woods run just along their perimeter toward Andrew and Father (who are still
a few yards within it's perimeter). Dick sees them.
Now, you are probably beginning to see that something is not quite right with this picture. In fact, something is near fatally wrong.
Huntsmen Andrew and Father (unnoticed) stand across plane from Huntsmen Dick. Now draw a mental line from Dick too A and F. The line
a bullet would have to traverse were one party to say... fire at the other. Now three little deer come leaping across the plane toward this imaginary line Dick
sees the deer and raises his rifle, turns off his safety and does all the other time consuming things it takes to ready a rifle to fire. The deer are now on the line. Dick opens fire. Andrew and Dad who have been watching all these events with a warranted amount a chagrin, drop first to there knees, and then,
as the full gravity of the situation sinks in, fling themselves on the ground.
Providentially, "Dick" aims neither so low that he hits the deer, nor so high that he hits us.
We decided that we had had enough hunting for one morning and returned to the house empty handed.
Too be continued.
If I live.
If I don't find something better to do.
Aandrew the Intrepid