The Glass Is Half Full

My rhythm was off. 

The recent travels I've undertaken in assisting with Daddy's affairs disrupted many of my mental vectors, especially those that were set to converge on the opening weekend of archery season.  While I was away I occasionally felt as though I was walking in a parallel universe, existing partly in a world of hospitals and decisions while an alternative me was somewhere out there, bow in hand, listing for muffled hoof beats on the pine needles.

Regardless, I am back home now, and I told myself I'd definitely hunt one afternoon this week.  Originally that was Tuesday, but it turned out work was too busy.  Wednesday likewise, because there were other things to do.  Yesterday, however, I put my mental foot down and when the clock on my office computer monitor finally read 1:00 PM, it was the time of departure.  Time to at long last begin an afternoon's archery hunt.

I'd heard through the grapevine that hunter turn out at Goethe last weekend was high, and that was irrationally off-putting to me.  It is public land, obviously many other people utilize the area, and rightly so.  I'm just one of those people who like to be alone in the woods.  I'd never seen anyone on my island, but there are trail tags out there, albeit older ones.  I just wanted to be the first this year, and the though that another hunter beat me hung like a tainted cloud over me.  I guess all humans are territorial to an extent.  

It was already after 3 o'clock when I rolled into the parking area.  No other vehicles at least.  When I got out of the truck I was immediately hit with the rancid foulness of rotten deer guts that some asshole delightful individual chose to leave adjacent to the parking lot.  At least the buzzards were taking care of it.  

Even with all my preparations, getting all the gear together for the first time was a clumsy affair. It took me three tries to correctly strap into the tree stand safety harness.  Next, tree stand in pack mode strapped to my back...wait, dammit I still had my regular shoes on!  Off with the pack, on with the boots, back on with the pack.  Checked pockets, everything there.  Time to go, down the woods road.  Sure enough, boot tracks on in the sand ahead of me, dammit!  A few dozen yards...wait, dammit, I left the headlight at the house!  Well, worse case scenario I have a flashlight app on my iPhone.   Another few dozen yards...wait, dammit, I left the GPS at the house!  Whatever, I know where I'm going, its just a bitch to find the game trail sometimes.  

It wasn't a bitch to find this time, I just didn't find it.  I managed to eventually stumble through the thick blackberry briars onto the island and found myself about where the huge buck jumped up during the scouting trip.  Well, with this thick cover it makes sense why he was here.  Once on the open floor of the island I did orient myself quickly and headed over to the scrape under the holly bush. 

I didn't see any obvious evidence that anyone else had been there.  No new flags of any kind were in evidence, and when I left the woods road there were no longer any tracks to be seen.  I brightened up a bit, maybe I was the first to hunt the island this year after all.  However, there had to have been some kind of glitch in the matrix.  The tree I was going to climb with the perfect view of the scrape had turned from an oak into a pine.  I could have sworn that was an oak, but my mark was clearly on it so blame my foggy memory.  

Now this pine was certainly no urban pine, and its bark was thick and super flaky.  Hauling myself up it on the climber knocked great slabs of bark off of it that accumulated on the foot rest and had to be kicked off occasionally.  The base of the tree looked like a bear had attacked it.

Speaking of attack, did I mention the mosquitoes?  Because there were plenty.  And if they were messing with me you can bet they were epidemic in proportion.  I'm the Wolverine of mosquito bites.  I've seen a bite slightly swell then disappear without a trace in a matter of moments.  But just because I don't itch doesn't mean I want the little vampires mixing precious bodily fluids with me either.  

Time for the ThermaCELL!  Except for after it softly hissed away for minutes I saw no drop in mosquitoes.  My expert friends swore they worked, WTF?  Once again...wait, dammit, its not really ignited, just hissing out fuel!  OK, now its on, and guess what?  The Florida Swamp Angels get the message and actually buzz off, mostly!

So, tree stand secured, ThermaCELL up, bow hauled up, clearance checked, camo mask on...holy shit, I'm actually hunting!

Owlman!  I know the straps are supposed to go somewhere but I don't like them, probably going to cut them off.

Here it is, gentle reader, the part we've all been waiting for, when all is silent, and the woods slowly come back to life.  From off in the distance a fat squirrel is heard, meandering closer, so comfortable it's covering the ground instead of the treetops.  Butterflies peacefully flutter by.  The dappled rays of the setting sun, filtered through the pines, ripple across the forest floor.  

Holly scrape in middle distance, smaller fresh scrap in left foreground.  Holly scrape actually didn't look that fresh yesterday.

Except...wait, dammit!  No!  Seriously? Thunder?  Pulled out the iPhone.  Yep, that innocent little line of showers that started on the east coast has continued overland, picking up steam.  Reloading the app did not change the huge blobs of red steadily approaching.  It occurred to me that sitting in a metal frame attached by spikes to a pine tree in a thunderstorm was likely not wise.  Looked like just enough time to pack up and make the truck.  Which I did, fearless followers, shutting the door literally as the first raindrops hit the windshield.

Sigh.

So, what is there to do?  Do I mourn the afternoon as a shitty attempt at a hunt, icing on the cake of a season already so out of whack?  Or do I readjust the mental goalposts and consider it for what, in reality, it truly was:  A full dress rehearsal, a needed one at that. 

And when taken in that light, a damn successful one! 

I took a ton of new equipment successfully into the field.  Every bit of it functioned perfectly (well, when I used it correctly).  I used my climbing stand safely on a pine tree for the first time, rough bark and all.  I climbed higher than I ever tried before (admittedly only about 15 ft, but still, not bad considering my acrophobia).  The ThermaCELL kept the mosquitoes down to a minor annoyance.  I realized several ideas for gear adjustments that I'll make before this Saturday.  And probably most importantly (besides the above mentioned safety), before I climbed down I used my arrows for some stump shooting target practice.  They went where I wanted them.  Two of them too well, the rotten stump turned out to have a pretty solid core of heart wood, took ten minutes with the knife to dig them out.  But isn't that a sign of good penetration to come?

I think my rhythm is back. 

I've got a blind date with a doe on Saturday morning.