Whitetail
WISDOM
Tagging The
PERFECT BUCK
Sweat collects in his brows as he stays infinitely still in
the lingering summer heat. The season’s signs of change
are visible in the trees and the browning grasses. Acorns
pop and crack onto the wrinkled and long-dead leaves
of spring, and his imagination runs as wild as his eyes
while searching for a break in the brush.
It came effortlessly, as if on cue, but it wasn’t what he’d
been waiting for. Not a 10 pointer, not even an 8 pointer,
but a doe. She was old, wise, and full of attitude. He had
barely lifted his bow when she was already tipping her
ears in every direction, and bowing her head up and
down. She had indeed, heard him, and she didn’t like
his noises. He kept as quiet as humanly possible, hardly
breathing, and she unknowingly tested his patience.
Several moments that masked themselves as hours in
the presence of her insecurity seemed to drown him, as
if he’d fallen into the nearby lake. The beads of sweat
were now dripping into his eyes, and he was becoming
as frustrated as the doe. They danced in the fall breeze
together, him stringing and caressing his bow, and her
indecisively patting at the ground in a two-step. What
was his next move? What was hers?
Adventure Outdoors Fall 2016 57