The Snorer in the Woods

I am a deer hunter. Not just for sport or the big rack of horns. The venison goes into the freezer after it is butchered, which quite often we do ourselves. We live on 140 acres so don't have far to go to find a good place to procure our winter supply of meat.

My deer blind is on the ground, where a big oak was toppled by the wind. The branches touching the ground make an excellent enclosure. Fallen branches from the surrounding trees and boughs from the pines make up the natural looking walls of my hideaway.

One morning I arrived at my blind just before daylight. It only takes a couple minutes to get there, so I didn't have to start out too early. Being November, the air was clear and cold. I could see my breath hanging in front of me as I walked along. I sat on the pillow I had brought to soften the hard edges of the 5-gallon pail. I put the wool blanket over my knees, propped my shotgun on top of the blanket and let the anticipation of venison chops sizzling in the fry pan wash over me.

As the sun coming up behind me began warming the air, I began to despair. I had not seen one deer of any size.There were no signs of any kind. The only noise was the crows overhead and the squirrels scampering in the dry leaves and chattering at who knows what in the trees, as well as the ruffed grouse drumming to its mate and the blue jays scolding me for disturbing their peace. Whoever said the woods was quiet had no idea what they were talking about.

Soon the warm sun and repetitive noises had me dozing away. It was one of the most restful sleeps I had ever experienced. When I awoke, I was in a blissful state. The euphoria lasted until the moment I spotted the huge deer tracks in the buck-scraped ground under the tree just to my right. They had not been there when I made my way to the blind. I'm sure he was telling all his buddies about the snorer in the woods.