Pennsylvania Game News - December 2013 - 11

waiting for the deer to step clear of the
brush, I saw more movement in my ﬁeld
of view. There were several deer on the
hillside. As I moved the binoculars
from one to the next, eliminating each
one as a legal buck, I saw one close to
the bottom of the hollow. The instant I
settled on its head, I knew it was legal.
He had at least three points on one side
and the main beams went out past his
ears. I stuffed the binoculars into my
jacket and picked up my riﬂe, an old
Winchester .32 Special that
had belonged to Grandpa's
father. Using the tree as a
rest, I stared through the
scope and waited for the
deer to come out of the
hollow and onto the ridge
below me.
First one antlerless
deer, then a second, then
a third and then one
more walked into my
ﬁeld of view through the
scope. Then I saw the
buck. He was staying
downhill of the
other deer. While waiting
for him to come into the clear, I saw
more movement nearer to me in the
scope. I looked above the riﬂe, and
there were three more antlerless deer
and, amazingly, another legal buck. He
was partially obstructed by the does
as well, and was smaller than the ﬁrst
buck. There were more deer in that
group than I'd seen together in years.
By this time, the bigger buck had
separated from the other deer and
was farther down the ridge. I picked
an opening, led him a bit and pulled
the trigger when he stepped into it.
Mayhem unleashed; there were deer
running everywhere.
DECEMBER 2013

As I ejected the spent cartridge,
part of me expected to see the buck
bounding down the ridge, white ﬂag
raised, but there was no movement
at all from that area. The buck was
on his side right in the opening, he
had dropped with one shot. I quickly
packed up my things and walked down
to my deer.
Call it coincidence if you will, but
as I prepared to ﬁeld-dress the beautiful
9-point, I realized I had my father's
hunting knife with me. I'm not
exactly sure why I even took
it along, because I have
my own. In hindsight,
maybe I felt it shouldn't
be packed away, but
should continue to
be carried as a way
to remember my dad. I
could see no better way
to honor him than to use
his knife to field-dress
the buck.
As I stood there looking
at the deer, I was struck
by the overwhelming
feeling this was a gift. I
have always felt grateful for each
animal I have harvested, but this
feeling was somehow different. I
believe that there was something more
than luck, or hunting skill, in play that
day on our mountain. Still today, I
cannot adequately explain that sound
in the leaves that made me turn
around. In my heart, I feel it must have
been the "sign" I sought from Dad. For
one more day, at least, Dad and I had
hunted together, even if only in my
mind. I may never know for sure if he
was with me that day, but every time I
look at the buck hanging on my wall,
I remember and wonder.
11
Pennsylvania Game News - December 2013

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