Kill or No
Whitetail hunting season is over for the year and I didn't kill a single deer.
It's a chance to remind myself that killing is only a part of hunting.
The kill occupies the smallest amount of time during a hunt. And, even though that moment defines the activity, the boundary between what is and is not hunting isn't clear. Sitting in the woods with a weapon and intent doesn't account for most of what happens before and after.
I may have been a hunter earlier, but I became certain the second I killed my first deer. From that point forward, in the woods, I'm hunting.
I went back to my office job the next day. Walking down Park Avenue, I could feel a ghost next to me. I hesitate to say I could see it. But if my hand found something solid it wouldn't be the most surprising part of the experience.
My first deer was a male about my size. They took me into the woods and with all my thanks I returned home with a different heart.
I spent almost three seasons trying to kill a deer before it happened. Then as now, I was looking for deer. But I didn't know, when I killed one, what I would take and what would be left behind.
Now that the object of my pursuit has come into sharper relief I enter the woods only to leave more aware than I was on arrival.
It's sad to end this season without venison in the freezer. But I keep hunting, kill or no.
Latest from the farm:
January passed a whiplash of weather. Half a foot of snow, three inches of rain, 40mph winds and finished off at <10F with windchill below zero.
Our hose failed to perform its job most days on account of my inability to empty it of water.
Then flooding submerged the electric fence, robbing it of its essential function, and turned the goose coops into rafts.
The primary hydrant has a leak, which if not cleared could freeze the valve, crack and make more flood.
Maybe sensing the tenuousness of the situation, on the coldest and snowiest day, the CPGs took flight. They turned around just outside the fence, confirming their weak migratory instinct. Nevertheless they didn't make it inside the fence. I chased them around with a net and eventually got them in.
On my birthday I took five of the eleven remaining geese to slaughter -- the last of the season.
Of course we're well into February so there's a lot more to report, but I'll save that for a recap at the end of the month. Till next time!
Fantastic writing on hunting!