It had proven one of those nights when sleep doesn’t come easy. I tossed and turned for a couple of hours until finally falling asleep. And I hardly rested, even then, as I found myself waking several times throughout the night.
I was pretty much exhausted when the alarm sounded off at 4:15. And in turn, I seriously considered rolling back over and getting some much needed rest, in spite of my plans to be in the woods just as it grew light enough to see.
But I was also aware that the deer were certainly not going to show up at my doorstep. So I crawled out of the sack, donned my camo and was on my way.
I arrived at my destination and secured my crossbow, just as the eastern horizon began to lighten. I had right at a mile to walk. And with a little luck I would be situated and settled before any deer came wandering through.
Well, I began to question my choice to ignore my body’s plea for more sleep upon watching a deer bound down the hill just as I neared the spot I had planned to hunt. In fact, it was hardly a stone’s throw from the exact spot where I planned to set up.
I was somewhat disappointed upon seeing the tail end of the fleeing deer. In fact, I had all but lost any confidence that success would follow. I suppose it could have been a doe, but they often run in groups. I had more than likely just spooked the buck that was responsible for the scrape-line that I had located days earlier.
OK, strike one. My hopes had somewhat dwindled. But the game was yet to be declared over. That in mind, I pulled my collapsible chair from the backpack, careful to avoid making any unnecessary noise during the assembly.
Scanning the forest for any indication of movement, I sat the chair on the leaf-covered substrate and eased down into the seat. Everything seemed to be going in my favor until I leaned back against the backrest.
As luck would have it, the ground was softer than I had suspected. And in turn, one of the legs immediately sank several inches into the ground. Well, the laws of nature took over and I suddenly found myself in the midst of strike number two.
Of course, the chair and I both fell over. And there I was. Wallowing in the heavy leaf cover in my attempt to get back in an upright position. I’m sure it sounded like a herd of armadillos browsing the hillside for their next potential meal.
So, did I look around to see if anybody happened to see me fall? I’ll never tell. But I will say that my chances of success, which had already taken a hit upon my arrival, had dwindled even more.
But I still refused to call it quits. It was the bottom of the ninth with two outs. The bases were loaded and I had two strikes. The pitcher had a wicked curveball and his fast ball had been known to exceed the century mark. But we were only down by three. Although my hopes were dismal, success was still within the realm of possibilities.
Besides, I had awoken long before the rooster crowed, driven more than an hour and embarked upon a lengthy walk to finally reach my destination. And to head back home empty handed shortly after the break of day would just add salt to the wound.
Well, I paid far more attention upon choosing the placement of my chair and settled back in with intentions of waiting for the next unsuspecting whitetail to meander within shooting range. And I managed to remain content for the following hour.
I even managed to remain stressless when a stiff wind began blowing from the east. I would simply use it to my advantage and focus on the direction from where it was blowing.
But that game plan soon went to pot, too, as the wind direction began to change as the morning progressed. And before I knew it, it was shifting to and fro.
Well that was it. I had taken a swing at a curve and completely missed. Strike three. The game was in the books and I was on the losing team. That in mind, I knocked the dirt from my cleats and headed back to my rig.
But the taste of defeat is simply part of the game. So I put this one behind me and was already anticipating my next scrimmage with the wary whitetail.
