|
There
are many things that come with much anticipation and leave with an equal
but opposite emotion. I suppose that all of us that claim to still be
alive have something that still excites in a similar manner. The things
that push our buttons are as diverse as people themselves can be
diverse. That is the beauty of it. Have you thought how boring life
would be if we all loved and hated the same things.
One
of the seasons that comes to me with great anticipation is deer hunting
season. It is also a season that goes and leaves me behind like an old
friend that is going away on a trip and won't return for 293 days. At
least with friends, you could give them a hug, say your farewells and
make mutual promises of when you plan to meet again. That leaves a warm,
fuzzy feeling that makes you smile in anticipation of the next meeting.
In
years past, when I had just begun to really enjoy deer hunting, the
night before opening day could be a pretty restless night. I usually
stayed up late making preparations that I thought were vital to insure
the success of the next day’s hunt (as if anything could guarantee
success). Then there was an almost sleepless night; looking at the alarm
clock every 10 to 15 minutes to see if it was finally time to get up. It
was strange how all this sleepless anxiety subsided after an hour in the
woods and changed into a state of inability to hold my eyes open.
The
end of deer season does not come and go without emotion. That emotion,
what ever it is, is usually dependent on the success of the season. I
think with every hunter, there is the success to time ratio that
determines how we feel about the season coming to an end. This ratio
varies from hunter to hunter, but we all evaluate the season based on
how much success we’ve had compared to the amount of time spent in the
woods. I use the word success because I have learned (more by necessity
than choice) that success can be measured in more ways than how many
deer that I have harvested.
The
'06-'07 season was shaping up to be one of those seasons to be
remembered more by frustration than satisfaction. Thus far, it had been
another of those "one bullet seasons". At that rate a box of
ammunition would last me for twenty years. At my age, would I ever need
to buy ammunition again? It seemed as if the end of this year’s deer
season would come as a mercy killing for me in that it would save me
from more frustration and a declining success/time ratio.
The
culmination of this year’s season was to teach me a new way of
satisfaction and success. My oldest son, Dustin had always shared my
love for hunting and often went with me to the hunting club at Waterloo.
However, he usually drove separately because he often had other plans
after hunting. Josh, my youngest son, had not seemed to care much for
deer hunting, but had decided that he would go with us on this last
Saturday of the season.
Dustin
and I planned the hunt to put Josh in the best chance of seeing deer,
but it was not to be. Neither of us had the good fortune to see any
deer, much less get a shot. We each heard a few shots in the distance
that hinted that some hunter somewhere might be having some luck, but
all was quiet along the Pea Ridge Road. At dark, we gathered back at the
deer camp and lamented the fact none of us had even seen deer.
It
was an unusual night since neither of the boys had plans to rush off to,
so I suggested that we stop and get a bite to eat. So, there we were, at
the Dixie Diner on the Waterloo Road, a father and two sons, eating the
$6.95, all-you-can-eat chicken finger/catfish special. It wasn’t too
bad of a way to finish off a season.
Darrell
Thompson is the Moulton store manager of Lawrence County Exchange. |
