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Zonal Flow and the View from the Back Deck

Posted 11-24-2010 at 22:44 by Arquebus12

The air outside is in it's semi-annual turmoil. Vestiges of Indian Summer are being blown eastward under the uneven assault of late November winds. Shadows borne of slate gray skies exist only in the most remote corners, under vehicles, and in assorted burrows. Over night frosts are waiting for drivers in the morning, and I'm in the throes of buck fever, again...

The jet stream is dipping southward, turning the Midwest and Canada into meteorological twins. My summertime game of choice, groundhogs, are for the most part thoroughly dug in and dozing, but the whitetails are moving about under the influence of love, dominance, and seasonal drama. The view to the east from the deck looks over harvested corn, bare trees on the property line, and stalled green grass in the back yard. While some of my neighbors get to look over green winter wheat, I got corn stubble to look at, which seems to bring deer on scavenging patrols.

I've been parked in my treestand at The Farm every Saturday since opening day in October, putting in 3-4 hours each time, and even though Sunday hunting is allowed now, I rarely go. Sundays are for lying in, the paper, good coffee, etc. I've seen deer every time I've been out, and have even loosed arrows at two of them so far, but have managed to miss badly enough not do any harm at all. The first attempt was a comedy of errors, with my having badly misjudged ranges on three occasions, over- or under shooting every time. On my fourth attempt, this positively mystified doe was looking directly at me, investigating where the source of all of these sharp, whoosing things were coming from, and had narrowed it down to my tree. At a range of less than ten yards, she presented an easy shot to me, and I'm sure I'd be picking venison out of my teeth at this very moment if I hadn't prematurely released my last arrow on the draw. Seeing as how I only had 4 arrows in my quiver ("C'mon, who needs more than 4, hah...?"), my hunting day was over. I watched her high step about, looking as though she were almost marching, and morosely observed her as she ambled away from me and my scattered arrows. And I still had the Rueful Walk of Disgust and Dismay back to the truck to look forward to. I'm a far better marksman than archer, apparently...

With all that said, I'll certainly be afield again on Friday, taking full advantage of being off work the day after Thanksgiving. What with the rains that are supposed to start late Wednesday and continue through the holiday, there's a good chance that there should be plenty of damp, hungry deer moving about in the morning. Couple that with a waning moon, the seasonal rut, and the fact that I'll need to get out of the house (or more specifically, the kitchen) after having laid about for the previous 24 hours.

There are worse and more expensive hobbies... Gods know I'm not doing this because I'm counting on bringing home any meat.
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