Thoughts on 08

• September: The year started off much differently for me than years past. The biggest difference was that I had just moved to a new city, and 250 miles separated me and the family farm in Kentucky, where I've grown up bowhunting. $3 a gallon gasoline added yet another hurdle to the mix. When the Kentucky bow seasoned opened in early September, I knew I wouldn't have the usual time to devote to arrowing a big buck from a bachelor group. I took a little vacation time the first week, and was met with a lot of frustration and few deer sightings. The second week was a different story, however. As my wife, Michelle, watched over a freshly picked cornfield ahead of a big thunderstorm, I stalked my way to within range of a nice 7-pointer. A perfect 30-yard shot made short, sweet work of my one and only buck tag for the season, at least in the Commonwealth.
• October: Man, things snuck up on me. By mid-October, I realized I had only been deer hunting a few times--less than I had since the first year I ever hunted. My day job was keeping me on the road, in the city, and away from my treestand. Meanwhile, Michelle was stacking the miles up on her Altima, driving back and forth to Kentucky each weekend. As I sat in Canada, packing my stuff for a week's worth of waterfowl hunting, she was sitting in a box stand overlooking a winter wheat plot with her muzzleloader. A nice 9-pointer ambled its way out in front of her, and she nailed him with one perfect shot. It was her first big buck, and she couldn't be any more excited. We ran up a $300 international phone bill reliving the hunt. In a way, I wish I could've seen it. But in another way, I know those hunts that you have to yourself are special.
• November: With our buck tags filled, Michelle and I, for the first time in our hunting careers, sat things out during the Kentucky rifle season. The rut was raging, and some good deer fell. I took a little time to do some muzzleloader hunting in Tennessee, thanks to an invitation from a buddy, and managed to fill a couple antlerless tags and put some much-needed meat in the Brantley freezer.
• December: I made a promise to myself to get up to Kentucky and spend some time up a tree to fill a doe tag with my bow. Glad as I was to have put a few animals in the freezer, I was almost ashamed of myself at the lack of time I'd spent in the woods. I never made the trip. Instead, I postponed my mental note and decided to pick up next year where I left off. I plan to hit things a little harder in Tennessee, and maybe try to work my way into a Texas bowhunt. Hopefully, gasoline prices will remain reasonable.

I think at one point, even just a few years ago, I would've driven myself crazy at the lax pace I took to deer hunting this year. But the hunts I had were good, and it's difficult for me to get too upset about that. I've got a bowhunt for wild hogs coming up, and turkey season will be lurking around the corner soon after I get back. Once that's done, it'll be time to start fishing, and when I'm fishing, my thoughts always turn to sitting in a treestand just before dark and hearing the crunching of leaves as a deer approaches my setup. I'll be ready for those long drives again. There'll be food plots to plant, feeders to fill, and stands to hang.

For now, there's still a little venison to eat.

Will in Tennessee