by A. Non

Created on: August 16, 2010

He picked through the brush carefully. Stealth and the forest itself enveloped her. The victor of the match about to be heralded with the ringing of a single shot...

The quarry was an absolute specimen, a prime mounting trophy. The trip had been short of admirable targets. This did not bother the hunter, this was one of several trips this season. The rut would be starting in another few weeks. Then the forest would fill with opportunity. That would be a solo trip.

The hunters son, new to the sport, had come along for this trip. He had not yet mastered the near death like grace required to navigate the mountainside. The tall pines and loose rock allowed for long echoing missteps to warn any deer to flight. The next time, he would be set up in a blind. It was too early to start him stalking.  The solitary nature of the slow quiet walk in the woods did not fit his gregarious nature. In this, as in many things, parent and child differed. No, some quality time in the deer blind, which requires no movement and affords a little bit of chatter would suit him.  There was some hope that this trip would provide a connection between them, rather than illuminate the stark differences.

None of this was in the mind of the hunter at that moment. Only the smooth handle of the bolt action rifle, the cold air hovering in the nasal passages and the perfectly turned breast of the white tail deer inhabited the hunter’s senses. An absolute specimen. The shot.

“That’s a 14 pointer, Mom.”
“Yep.” The hunter had called her son to help her carry the field dressed buck back to the cabin.  
“Think I’ll ever get one like that?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes, I do.”

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