(This hunt took place with the Adult Learn to Hunt Program through the Texas Wildlife Association)
I know that I’m hunting this weekend but I’m so busy getting myself ready to teach the butchery clinic that I don’t really think about it until we’re at the gun range. Through the scope and at the target, I take three shots. They’re clustered together in the kill zone. If I get an opportunity and pull the trigger, I’ll be coming home with venison.
The morning of the first hunt, I get myself out of bed and into Courtney’s truck. We’re quite a sight in the dark of the morning, dusty trucks filled with mentors and their charges. I belong to my friend Courtney, I’m glad she’s my mentor because suddenly I’m dreading seeing a deer I can shoot.
It’s late September in South Texas, butterfly migration is underway and the sky is filled with the beating wings of Painted Ladies. The front of my car is covered with insect carcasses. The moment I see my friend, I cry to her that I’m so sad because of all the butterflies that met their end on the my bumper and windshield. She hugs me back and remarks how that tracks for me. I wonder how it is I’ll be able to kill an animal.
This is my fourth hunt, my first was an Auodad, my last a Whitetail Buck. I’m new but seasoned, I’m nervous but confident, I’ve been in this world long enough to know what my duty is. The first morning, we spot a young doe. Courtney whispers some pearls of wisdom but let’s me make the decisions. Through the scope, I appraise the doe. She’s young and skinny, still not fully rounded out. I’m watching her with my Butcher’s eye, as if deciding on a cut of meat. I lower my rifle and tell my friend that she’s not the one. We enjoy watching her explore her world until it’s time to climb down from the blind. We’ll go back out again.
It’s hot in the blind in the afternoon heat, the occasional breeze blowing through feels like heaven. We see a doe, she is older, fuller and beautiful. My rifle is sighted in on her kill zone, I have opportunity a couple of times but I wait, there’s no rush. I hear a whisper “there’s a fawn with her”. Courtney has eagle eyes and has seen the tiniest nose peeking out from the brush. The fawn bounds out of the thicket and up to its mom. The spots on its hide are still evident, it’s need to be close to her tells us it’s not ready to be on its own. I lower my rifle, I won’t kill a doe with a fawn, I tell my friend. She agrees with me. We head back to camp and celebrate the successes of my fellow hunters.
I’m almost tempted to skip out on the morning hunt, I’m not sure I want to kill an animal. However, I also know that my freezers are empty and that if I want to eat meat, this is how it has to happen. This is the responsibility that I’ve accepted, even though it feels so heavy. The Elk are bugling loud this morning, providing a soundtrack to the rising light. She comes in from the thick woods, right into the view of my scope. A beautiful South Texas Doe, no fawn in sight.
I set her kill zone in my cross hairs, pause at the bottom of my breath, release as I gently pull the trigger. I have forgotten my ear plugs, the sound shakes my soul and I’m temporarily deaf. She’s hit but the tall grass hides her, I won’t be able to see her until we come down. We have a limit of 2 Whitetail Doe, so when another two come out of the brush, I watch them through the scope. They stick close together, not really giving me an opportunity. I’m patient and choose one to keep my scope on, it feels greedy to take another animal. I remind myself that this is what conservation looks like, that I’ve been given this path of stewardship. I get an opportunity and this time with earplugs in, I take the shot. She goes down but suddenly gets up and runs into the woods. I try to find the breath I just lost, because I’m heartbroken. I was positive that I hit vitals, why didn’t she stay down.
Courtney reassures me that I did hit vitals, it’s just a matter of minutes. As she comforts me, we hear two crashes in the woods. That was her, she whispers, we’ll wait a while and then go get both of them. I don’t know how to feel, what to feel, because I’m feeling everything all at once. It isn’t until we come upon my first doe that I lose any sense of composure. I can’t stop crying and I’m so glad to have Courtney’s hand on my back. We pray, we thank her, and then we pull her out of the brush.
My second doe is in the dark thicket just beyond where I shot her. Getting her out requires assistance and determination. When she is fully in front of me, I am faced with my responsibility to these two lives that I chose to take. Everything that is romanticized in the moments leading up to it, is set to the side, as now the work will start. As we head back to camp, I’m proud of the decisions I made this weekend. Happier still that I’ll be able to feed my loved ones with my work. That doesn’t mean that I don’t cry all the way home.
Hunting brings out the best in me. My well of patience is bottomless, my decisions are taken judiciously, my heart is full of compassion, my mind is at peace. It’s never easy for me and I’m glad for that. It demonstrates to me what hard things I can do with love as my guiding light. I feel so alive in those moments, in the totality of my humanity, in the loss of my ego, in the humbleness of my ask. I know that I will never let go of these memories. Remembering the does through stories and shared meals, is how I’ll honor the gifts that the divine granted me.