Category Archives: Deer Hunts

Once in Seven Days

Familiar paths breed complacency. Over the rise, down the slope, then a long pause beside the stagnant water. A blue jay perched on a wild cherry branch. The forest sentinel waited. The hired hunter waited. Now and again, the pungent … Continue reading

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The Details Are Up to You

Moonlight, full and bright, illuminated the hollow. Stars sparkled. Shallow breaths turned to drifting clouds. Thick frost made leaves crunch. Sixty or so paces from the brush shelter, buffalo-hide moccasins found the silence of the earthen trail that angled between … Continue reading

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As Seasons Pass

Soft crunches…a steady cadence…upwind… Msko-waagosh paused. A foreleg stepped with no sound, a crackle, then the left foreleg stepped. An ear twitched. The doe’s head disappeared behind a thick oak tree. The returned white captive, taught the ways of the … Continue reading

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A Two Hour Diversion of Sorts

Step by step, center-seamed moccasins paralleled the path. The hired post hunter left no trace. That December’s still-hunt dropped over the ridge crest, then followed the earthen doe trail. Twenty paces to the northwest the faint, crescent-shaped curve of the … Continue reading

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A Place to Be and a Place to Go

Saturday, 17, December, 1763: Eight Canada geese ke-honked, unseen and to the east. Orange, lavender and yellow marked the western horizon, beyond the Riviere aux Raisins. Snowflakes drifted all about. The air smelled stark and unforgiving. Mi-ki-naak’s nose dripped, but … Continue reading

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A Time to Reflect…

Friday, 23 December, 1763: Two fox squirrels chattered. Sandhill cranes chortled near the Riviere aux Raisins. A crimson cardinal twittered about as if deciding whether to stay or move on. A solitary Canada goose uttered intermittent “ke-honks” on its way … Continue reading

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“A Deer’s Ear Twitched”

“Snapshot Saturday”

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What to do, what to do?

Saturday, 19 November, 1763: Two Sandhill cranes flew overhead. One chortled soft, the other trailed behind. The “caw, caw, caw, caw” of a lone crow, winging somewhere south, pierced the dense fog. A fox squirrel’s sharp bark hung heavy on … Continue reading

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