Pennsylvania Game News - December 2014 - 7

bench. The old man remembered
how the young hunter's face had lit
up while talking about the big buck,
and of how he had said he would do
anything for the trophy buck, and
he thought it funny how deer made
some people react. Heck, he himself
thought that hunting was just about
all there was to life - at least up until
his beloved Martha had died.
The old man watched the darkness begin to fade and dawn emerge.
The outline of the trees began to take
shape. To the old man, there was
nothing so soothing as the solitude
of the big woods enveloped in snow.
It wouldn't be long now, he thought,
until the hunters coming in from the
main road would have the deer moving, but it wasn't until late morning
that he saw his first deer. The three
animals picked their way single-file
through the laurel from the other side
of the ridge and crossed in front of
him. The first two were does, but the
third carried long spikes.
The old man watched the deer
make their way down the hollow. If
they continued on the same course,
they would cross directly in front
of Rusty Sullivan. He thought he
would know how serious the young
hunter was about holding out for
the big one in a moment or two.
He waited for the sound of the shot
that never came, and he admired the
young hunter's resolve in passing up
a chance for his first legal buck. The
old man knew he couldn't have done
the same in his younger years.
The day wore on, and the old man
patiently waited on stand, enjoying
every minute of it. Martha had always
wondered how he could stand in one
place for 10 hours at a time. It wasn't
DECEMBER 2014

hard. His soul connected with the
whole outdoor experience. He knew
that if the big buck became separated
from the security cover on the bench,
it would be only a matter of time
until he would attempt to reach it.
The long hollow was the best avenue
for reaching it undetected.
The long shadows created by the
late afternoon sun were spreading
across the snow-covered landscape
when the old man saw them. A doe
followed closely by a small basketracked 8-point materialized on a
trail leading through small clumps of
laurel that dotted the top half of the
hollow, well within range of the old
man's Savage. The two deer stopped
in a small opening and stared back
in the direction in which they had
come. The old man instinctively
searched the cover that held the attention of the two deer, and he was
quick to pick out the dark form slinking through the thick laurel.
He had guessed right. There was
no doubt about it. It was the buck he
was waiting for. He caught a glimpse
of the huge rack held low to the
ground as the cautious animal slowly
worked through the thick cover. He
eased up his rifle and trained the
scope on the opening where the doe
and smaller buck still stood, as the
huge buck's path would bring it to
the same spot.
When the big buck hit the opening, the old hunter would be ready.
He was seconds away from the best
buck of his lifetime, and most likely
his last. His thoughts drifted again
to the young hunter, Rusty Sullivan,
who patiently waited at the bottom of the hollow for this same
buck. It was perfect, though, as most
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Pennsylvania Game News - December 2014

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