As we sat around our host ranchers’ kitchen the night before the recent West River Deer opener, we swapped stories and poked a little fun at each other. Our group included ranchers Stuart and Lisa, Ken, a neighbor, Wisconsin hunters Dave and Ted, Mike, my partner, and myself. The Wisconsin hunters had already been there for a few days as they were archery hunting. The conversation went something like this.

Ted remarked with a smile on his face, “Roger, you’re getting old. You don’t get around very well. This could be your last hunt. It could well be your last deer!” Well, I am old. This was my 51st hunt on this same ranch. Many hunters aren’t even fifty-one years old. His comment might have been sensitive in another circle.

“I’m well aware of that,” I replied. Ted then got to talking about his stand of the past two days and the big five by five whitetail buck and the four by four that were pushing each other around as they competed for the does. The more he talked about it, the more excited he became.

“Roger,” Ted went on, “I’m going to put you on those deer! I’m going to go out there right now and get things set up for you.” Before going out the door, Ted borrowed a roll of reflective tape from Stuart.

Ted returned forty-five minutes later. “Roger, I’ve marked a trail on the barbed wire fence with reflective tape. I’ve set up a south-facing chair, and I’ve marked the weeds from the fence to the chair with tape. I’ve even lowered the barbed wire so your shot doesn’t hit it.” He then gave me explicit instructions that I was to follow in the morning.

“Walk out to the road and go north. After you cross the cattle guard, head west on the two track trail that parallels the fence on your left. The tape is on the top strand of wire. Three rows of scrubby Ponderosa pines run east to west on the other side of the fence. At the last piece of tape, cross over the fence and go south to the chair in the outside south row of trees. The deer will come from the south or west. Hopefully you will have enough moon light to see the tape and get around. Whatever you do, be quiet and get to that chair before it begins to get light!”

I lay awake all night worrying about my ability to get it right. The needless alarm went off at 5:00 A.M. I was on the road, rifle slung over my shoulder and Bog-Pod tripod in hand, at 5:30. With the peripheral neuropathy in my numb legs, I couldn’t keep my balance and cross the gate. In desperation I crawled over the gate. I then turned left (west) onto the trail and was relieved to see the tape. By 6:00 I was in the chair. I set up my tripod and put four rounds into the magazine of my .30-06 bolt-action rifle. Faint ribbons of pink were beginning to show in the eastern sky as coyote yips came draw to the west.

My mind wandered. Was I hearing the coos of grouse, or was my stomach rumbling? In spite of the mild weather, I began to get cold just before sunrise. “Tough it out for Ted,” I told myself. Nine o’clock. Three hours in the chair. Nothing. I was facing a field of dense sweet clover. As I glanced to the east, I spied a lone deer as it moved across the field diagonally from northeast to southwest. Its nose was to the ground, but I could see the top half of its body and top of its antlers. It wasn’t one of Ted’s deer, but it was a good one.

When he was broadside to me, a distance of 225-250 yards, I cranked a cartridge into my rifle’s chamber and put the horizontal crosshair of my scope just beneath the line of his back. My first shot rocked him. The second put him down. It took me a stressful half hour to find him in that thick clover.

When we met in the yard an hour later, I was pleased as I had earned a very good buck. But most Important to me was Ted’s satisfaction. His face literally beamed.

See you next week.