November 21st marked a holiday for myself and many of my Oklahoma blood-brothers (great term, Uncle Ted!). I am speaking of course about the opening day of whitetail rifle season. Of course, hunters across our fine state have been pursuing deer since October 1st with archery equipment. I too, have partaken in this fine endeavor. Something remarkable, sacred, and unapologetically American takes place with the firearms opener that no other day can match. The day itself is steeped in tradition, honor, nostalgia and familiarity. In all frankness, I revere it. I should mention now that I absolutely want new hunters and youngsters to participate in this wonderful experience (more on this later).
For myself, this day has always been about three things: God, nature and family. To me, those are the most wholesome and prized things in my life. My great Provider allows me to partake in the cycle of life, my earthly father taught me and introduced me to the sport, and nature bathes me in all her majesty each time I step out. You could say that my deer hunting heritage goes back to a day during muzzleloader season when I was eleven (I believe), but in reality it goes even further than that. I was profoundly influence by my dad, and his deep love for the sport. I watched in my youth as it consumed him---something that it soon did to me. Before long I was not only admiring the beautiful deer that he brought home, but admiring the ones that I had brought to bear myself. Beyond this, I have ties even further back to a hunting heritage. My grandfather, L.D. Bruce was an avid sportsman as well. Each year, I hunt with his rifle; a Remington 760 pump in .30-06 that connects us in a sublime, unbreakable way.
This year's opener was about shared experiences for me; both positive and negative. I was lucky to share my favorite quest with my good friend Dave Gordon in the morning and one of my young relatives, Chris Smith, in the afternoon. The opening morning is always full of anticipation. This was certainly the case this year. Dave and I set up on a finger of brush jutting out into a newly planted wheat field. Generally, this is not the preferred location for me, but the rest of our lease had been burnt due to neighborly negligence. Dave and I were eager to behold a deer and sat quietly, despite the large number of mosquitoes on an abnormally warm November day. Dave was the first to spot a doe making her way through the burnt brush on a distant hill. Soon after, I could have sworn the British were invading---the prodigousness and volume of fire surrounding us was astounding. I was convinced that trespassers were hunting on our lease. The proximity of the shots was such that between 10 and 15 were either directly on our property or on our fenceline. We decided to investigate and in the process spooked four or five deer that were further down the field than we had anticipated. Needless to say, the uncouthness of the surrounding hunters and the degraded state of my lease were sources of frustration for me.
Later that evening, Chris and I sat in an elevated box blind that Dad and I had rebuilt during the summer. Once again, anticipation overcame us and we eagerly awaited the sound of approaching footsteps. As time passed, I craned my neck to check on dad who was in a ladder stand in a large cottonwood tree about 400 yards away. Not only did I see him, but also a pair of riders on horseback, casually conversing and riding up and down our property-line. Their ignorance and disrespect appalled me. Not only did they not have the scruples to regard our endeavor with respect, but they also failed to don blaze-orange, making them likely victims of a hunting accident. Near dusk I caught a movement out of the front window of the blind and quietly told Chris not to move. I saw a buck! In fact, after checking him out, I was certain this the exact buck that we had previously caught on our trail cameras. I quickly readied my rifle on the window and waited for him to approach closer. Unfortunately, the wind was sweeping through the blind and bringing our scent to the deer. I could tell that he knew something was wrong and proceeded to make the shot. Like always, I was considerably shaken. The buck was just in front of a large blackjack tree that I had ranged at 212 yards. I placed the crosshairs just right of his shoulder and squeezed the trigger. Knowing that my rifle was sighted in at 200 yards, I had expected the big 180 gr. bullet from my .30-06 to send him tumbling. This, however, was not the case! The buck soon ran about 10 yards and stopped---I was in disbelief! I hastily jacked another round into the chamber for a followup shot, but the buck was blocked by my feeder. I positioned myself in front of Chris' window but the buck broke and began to run down the hill. Once again, I had to switch windows and instinctively placed another round into the buck as he fled down the hill. Emotions drove me. Ethics spurred me. Hunger inspired me. I had to know what happened. Chris and I ran towards the spot where the deer had been and I circled down the hill. There he was! Rejoice! I quickly thanked God! What a beautiful creature! My buck was laying there, bathed in the golden glow of the prairie grass! He was a mainframe 10 pt. with one side broken off. What stories he could tell! I saw my dad approaching and was, in that moment, happier than I had been in a long time. As I walked back to the truck, I said a prayer of thanksgiving. What an experience!
My story ends with a tone of joy, but there are further implications. Despite the happy-ending that I was blessed with, there are things that need to be addressed.
(1) Hunters must have respect for each other. The practice of trespassing on private property and positioning feeders and stands on property-line isn't going to have a happy ending for anyone.
(2) Marksmanship counts. I am a strong advocate of putting enough bullets into a quarry to quickly and ethically kill it. However, the wanton spraying of bullets and screaming (which my parents experienced at the same spot the next day) makes all hunters look bad.
(3) Sharing the sport of hunting with others not only enriches your time, and strengthens the sport as a whole. The time that I spent with Dave, Chris (and my dad, and Andy) over that weekend was just as joyful as the harvest of that buck to me.
In conclusion, I'd like to encourage you to go out and experience the thrill of the hunt, the wonders of nature, and the Glory of God. Better yet, take someone with you when you do it---just make for sure that the time you are spending doing this is quality and respects not only your quarry, but also the people around you who are enjoying the same sport.
