Winter with a Vengeance November 14, 2022 342 words

Winter with a Vengeance November 14, 2022 342 words

This week we awoke to rain/ snow showers, winds up to 24 miles per hour and clouds. This is in sharp contrast to the mild sunny 70’s from the week before.

My husband must feel the change. He found the water heater for the bird’s water. This keeps the water from freezing in the coldest temperatures. Yesterday, John came home with a large bag of sunflower seeds.

His reasoning was,” they were on sale.”

He is worried for the wild life.

To add to the concerns, deer hunting starts tomorrow.

The deer will be on the run and unpredictable. I think that it is unfair to hunt animals that have mating on their minds.

The turkeys haven’t been seen for several weeks. I hope they survived their hunting season in October.

Though I have never hunted, I come from a family that hunted. My dad and older brothers would go out to the Upper Peninslula of Michigan to stay at Warners cabins. One of my favorite stories Dad told was the last time he and Grandpa went hunting together.

Grandpa had suffered two heart attacks. He still wanted to go deer hunting one more time. Dad drove him up to a place they had hunted for years.

Dad drove Grandpa as close to the shelter in the woods so there was little walking from the road. In the shelter, dad supplied a blanket, folding chair and a holder to prop the rifle pointing at the deer path. Supplied with a thermos of hot coffee, grandpa assured his son he had all he needed.

“If you need me, shoot your rifle three times and I’ll come to find you.”

“Bruce, I will be fine. Give me a couple of hours to hunt.”

So dad walked the trails in a circle, never out of hearing rifle shots. When he returned to check his dad, he was surprised to find grandpa finishing the last of his coffee and a 6 point buck dressed and hanging in a near by tree.

“Dad, how did you shoot and dress the deer?”

He knew that the deer was too heavy for grandpa to hoist into the tree for dressing. He had not heard the three shot signal to indicate that grandpa needed his son.

“Well Bruce, I was looking out the rifle hole when the buck ran down the deer run.”

“I lifted my rifle automatically and took aim, got him in the heart.”

Later another hunter who was tracking the same deer appeared and was surprised to find Grandpa and the dead deer.

They struck a deal, The hunter would dress and hang the deer to bleed out. Grandpa would put his tag on the deer and allow the other hunter to claim it. My grandpa wanted to show his son that he could still hunt and bring down the venison.

That was the last time they hunted together. Grandpa died the next February. I don’t recall other hunting stories. This was special because father and son shared a time together.

***

The Scare

I look out on a moonless night to hear the wind rattle the last of the hanging leaves.

The unseen voices of living things lost in the night remember better days.

Pausing at the edge of the porch to discern movements on the hill.

Goblin, spirit or evening mist to emerge?

Instead a deer with one antler weary from fall mating searches for a sheltered bed for the night.

I close my door to seek protection from the callous unconcern of the world.

From my book “Leaf Memories”

Carol Farnsworth