Blind Marksman Makes the Transition to Deer Hunter

My finger switched off the safety and slipped inside the trigger guard of a loaded crossbow at 7.05 P.M. Central, on September 25th, 2008, prompted by the crunching steps of two white tail deer. I wrestled with my own thoughts in the ground blind that kept me concealed from view at a fork in the game trail. I still loved animals and didn’t know if my life experiences had hardened me enough to break my childhood vow to never hunt anything that couldn’t hunt me. I decided that a change was soon to come and steadied myself for the shot.

Having already practiced with my AK47 for this hunt only three weeks prior, I honed in on the trampling foliage coming up from the corn field to my right. I had never been so close to deer in the wild before--about 15 yards from a patch of alfalfa, making for the river at near dusk. With no rifle’s report to interfere with the sonar signature, I tracked them easily with ears free from hearing protection. Numbness overcame my senses and I robotically squeezed the trigger to the cracking thud of the arrow crashing through the lead deer’s ribs, exiting both lungs to be recovered later twelve feet away from the point of impact. The stricken animal ran off amid the fading call of shew, shew, shew, shew from the doe that accompanied it away from the danger zone.

I crossed myself before exiting my seat to follow the blood trail into the forest, finding the body 75 yards away under a thorn bush. I reached down and thanked the deer for giving up its life for me and the four other families that would share this yearling buck’s 25 pounds of tender venison in a 100 pound frame. I prayed for its soul’s salvation, as I thanked God that my shot had been on target. My greatest fear was a glancing blow that would cause the animal pain, becoming food hours later for the packs of coyotes that howled near by in the growing night.

A honking heralded the victorious arrival of my field dressed kill and I exited the four-wheeler to pats and praises from my fellow hunters. My wife also squealed with delight at the prospect of fresh venison. She and I would go together next year, since I had tasted another sport, one that I could never before see myself involved in. I still loved animals, but now had turned the page to see that true Hunters were just conservationists, who saw the practical side of nature. They knew that life lives on life, but the soul remains eternal.

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