Truth Time
On September 18th, by 3:30 p.m., I found myself situated comfortably on the edge of an aspen grove. From my vantage point, I could see a large clearing, as well as clusters of spruce and high oak brush. At 5 p.m., the deer began to move. Two small bucks emerged from the timber, feeding into the clearing. I estimated their distance from my stand to be 80 yards. They fed away from my location and into a pocket of spruce. Ten minutes later, they reappeared with a large buck. Then they all drifted out of my sight. Twenty minutes passed before I noticed two smaller bucks feeding toward me.

They were following the edge of the aspens, and I figured they would be under my tree stand in no time. Then I saw they had company. Two big bucks were behind them and off to the side. Before long, I was watching eight bucks as they closed to within my effective range. The suspense was working my nerves, accelerating my pulse. I stood up, waited for the biggest buck (a 160-inch brute), then drew back my bow. He caught the movement and bounded away, taking the other deer with him. They stopped at 60 yards and looked back in my direction. I relaxed my bow and then remained motionless. Perhaps I'd get a second chance.

Ten minutes went by. Slowly and cautiously, the deer began drifting back my way. First came the small bucks. I let them walk past me. Then came one of the big fellows with the 160-class buck I had drawn on earlier in tow. Clearly, he was running the show. I paid special attention to his peculiar, almost human-like gestures. When the smaller buck hesitated, glancing at me and then back at the brute, the bigger deer waved him on with a tilt of the head. "You go first," he seemed to be saying.

The subordinate proceeded obediently, yet he was circumspect as he approached me. Would he ever look away? Would I ever get a chance to draw my bow? I had already concluded that the larger buck would not come in close enough for a shot, so if given a chance at the subordinate, I would take it. Finally, at 35 yards, I saw my opportunity. His head swiveled, and he looked away briefly. I drew my bow. As he turned and fixed his gaze on me again, I released an arrow and watched the fletching disappear in his broadside.

He burst directly away from me at full speed, running 50 yards before crashing headfirst into the ground. I sat down, exhaling slowly, trying to calm my rattled nerves. If you're like me, you'll agree that the anticipation and thrill of waylaying animals (whether whitetails, elk, bear or mule deer) is the ultimate high. As my chest heaved uncontrollably, it became obvious that I was afflicted with a case of the jitters.

A Moment Of Reflection
Later at camp, I hung my deer in a tree. I was so tired that I skipped supper. I eased into my tent, then into my sleeping bag. I closed my eyes and remembered the day's events. This truly was one of my best hunts, in one of the most glorious settings imaginable. I recognized the sound of snow falling lightly on the roof of my tent, as I fell asleep to the whistling echoes of elk.