A Hunting I Will Go

   A Hunting I Will Go

Suzanne Marsh

‘Three o’clock in the morning, what in the hell am I doing? Wide awake, ready to get out of bed.’ Today is the first day of deer hunting season, it is the first time I am going hunting. I am not sure exactly what I should wear: ‘long handled under ware, heated socks, jeans, boots, gloves, hand warmers. Hmm is there anything I have forgotten? I don’t think so but perhaps I should check over my list. Oops, I guess I should make sure I have shells and my sixteen-gauge shotgun. I stroll around the house, wondering what else I should take hunting. I am doing this on a dare, my boyfriend says women have no place carrying guns or hunting. I nagged him until he submitted to me, so I am going hunting. He won’t be here with his buddies to pick me up for another hour at least. I should take a shower, yes, that seems like a good idea. I think about hunting deer, do I really want to eat Bambi’s mother or father? No, I don’t think so, those big brown eyes staring at me, I am going hunting, end of discussion.

Four o’clock, right on the dot, a horn blares from a pickup truck. There are three guys in there and my boyfriend is driving. I clamber in:

“Where do you want to sit? Where do you want me to put my shot gun?”

Jake, my boyfriend of several years replies:

“Put the shot gun in the gun holder and squeeze between Rocky and Matt.”

Squeeze is a very appropriate word here; these two guys look like line backers. They give me a sort of smug smile. I brought a thermos of coffee for myself, the truck stops, and we clamber out, it is the one bathroom stop before we park the truck on the side of the road, head into the forest. I remember what I had forgotten, a compass. I quickly ask the clerk if they have any, he nods toward a rack marked Deer Hunting Equipment. I quickly grab one, place it in my pocket of my hunting jacket, pay the clerk and go back to the truck.

Once we leave the store, Jake pulls over onto the side of the road several miles down the road. We climb out of the truck, grabbed the rifles and shot gun. Jake, strides toward me with a plastic bag, with yellow something or other. He opens the bag; the smell is enough to knock over an elephant:

“What is that horrible odor?” I exclaimed.

“That my darling is deer urine, you place it on your jacket, jeans and hat, hands and feet.”

“I don’t think so Jake, I am not going to smell like an outhouse.”

“If you are going to go deer hunting with us yes you are, now put out your hands, apply the

urine to your cloths and boots. You stick close to me, do not wander off. It is easy to

get lost in the woods and Franklinville is several miles from here.”

I sighed and began to apply the ode de deer urine, began to regret this crazy idea of being a buddy to Jake.

Tromping through the woods seemed like it would be relaxing, a nice walk, some coffee. That was my idea of what deer hunting was all about. I am here to tell you it is not, we trudged along, the snow was beginning to fall. It was pretty but where were the deer? I thought they would be everywhere in the woods. These creatures are very uncooperative, and as we began to track all I saw was imprints of cloven hoofs in the snow. Then we found where the deer had slept, I hoped we are getting closer to the damn deer.

The snow was coming down like white rain, it was covering the deer tracks, it was cold and wet. I was super glad I had brought the heated socks as Jake said quietly to Matt:

“Matt, you got an extra pair of socks my feet are freezing.”

Matt, smiled, reached into his backpack and handed Jake an extra pair of socks. On we trudged, me with my shotgun in my arms trying to keep up with the guys. I was tempted to ask them is this was part of the idea to keep me from going hunting with them, then decided to play it out.

Rock, stopped:

“Hey, look at the size of that buck! He must be at least an eight pointer.”

We all halted and stared at the buck, who promptly turned and ran into a thicket of trees. I was happy at least we saw a deer. The guys wanted to continue, they were bound and determined to bring home a buck. I was determined to survive smelling like an outhouse, being cold and miserable, however I was not about to admit I wanted to go home.

The woods were full of noises both eerie and almost sinister; the coyote was happily howling. I reached into my backpack for a snack and my thermos of hot coffee. The chocolate bar had melted because I had put it next to the thermos. I was not a happy camper, I wanted that chocolate, however the coffee, at least warmed me up, we continued on our quest to find a deer. I was not convinced I could shoot Bambi but then again, a hunting I was going whether I was prepared to do so or not.

We strode onward, climbed several good-sized hills, descended into the valley below. There stood a cabin, it just beckoned me to go inside. Jake informed me this was Rock’s uncle’s cabin, so we could warm up before we headed out again in search of a phantom deer or so it seemed to me. I rapidly downed the rest of the coffee in the thermos, found the ladies room with a sigh of relief.

We took a whole half hour break, whoopee. The snow continued to fall covering the deer tracks, this upset Jake, he was determined to take home a deer, me I was determined to go HOME, where it warm and cozy, I decided that I would leave hunting Jake and his buddies, I had enough. We climbed up another hill and out of the valley. The snow was letting up, there in the tree stood a buck, Jake raised his rifle, I shot my hand out and pushed the rifle up toward the sky, I yelled at Jake:

“Don’t you dare kill that beautiful creature.”

Jake, Matt and Rocky all stood there with their mouths open and nothing coming out. Jake, decided he had, had enough hunting for one day. We headed back to the truck and ten miles later we arrived.

Jake, angry, Matt perplexed and Rocky, well was Rocky. Somehow, I doubt I will ever see Franklinville again. I don’t think I will go hunting again nor do I think Jake and his buddies would allow me to, I just could not see killing something so beautiful.

“...A hunting I will go...”