A tale of two deer seasons

A deer hunter watches the woods from his deer stand near Togo. (News Tribune file)

     Today, the blaze orange convoy moves out. Pickups and trailers and refurbished school buses and motor homes and mini-vans will converge on the entrance ramps and push north as fast as the law allows. They'll pause at gas pumps and bait shops and convenience stores and wayside rests. They'll buy licenses, stoke up on coffee, buy food they know they shouldn't eat -- and keep going.

     At their destinations, they'll hug their mothers or greet old friends and start moving duffels in. As all the regulars return, the decibel level will ramp up until it reaches a crescendo around the supper table.

     Stories will be told, predictions made, weather checked, stands chosen, gear readied.

     That's one Minnesota deer season. Loud. Boisterous. Crowded. Busy. Rife with anticipation.

     In the morning, the hunters will steal quietly into the woods along familiar trails. They'll climb into tiny platforms in the trees in the pre-dawn darkness. They'll sit down and slow down and calm down. And wait.

     This is the other deer season. Solitary. Silent. Cool. Natural. Gray. Patient.

      Now, all the hurry left behind, the hunter waits. Listens. Scans the land. Thinks.

      Ravens speak. Squirrels scold. Grouse amble. Chickadees twitter.

      Maybe a buck comes by today. Maybe not.

      One hunter. Two deer seasons. And it's the sweet contrast between the two that keeps us coming back year after year.

Posted by: samcook on 11/06/2009 at 9:20 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink