Be thankful for thrills that make you come alive

Through the darkness, into the light, the journey has its 'umphs' and 'whees'

Wild sweet Williams in bloom Tuesday morning in Mayes County. (KJBOutdoors photo)

About 6 a.m., right at that point when it felt like the sun never would rise and the15 mph wind changed the dew-like moisture on my sleeve to soaking rivulets, that’s when I whispered the words—aloud but audible only to my own ears.

“Next time don’t forget your raincoat, you bonehead.”

Rifle season for white-tailed deer had me playing the role early Tuesday of one of tens of thousands of orange specs that glow across the Oklahoma landscape with the rise of the sun for 16 days late November into December. We are an army of ephemeral blooms, some persisting only for one morning, others showing time and again through this period of productivity.

Tuesday I was an errant little bloom in a spot some might have found imperfect, waiting there in the dark for a spark to bring me to life. I had learned I could hunt deer on this area the first week of October and just had not found time to scout the place.

Based on some Google Earth viewing, OnX browsing, and trading notes with friend Greg Koch—who has a lifetime more experience than I in hunting whitetails—here I sat, wet, in the dark and knowing I soon was in for one of life’s little thrills. I was preparing myself mentally, and physically, to bloom rather than whither.

Sparks of life find a way to make flowers bloom even on the gloomiest of days—even when if that spark is less that pleasant. Like any fall blooms, my existence could be a tenuous based on the whims of the weather, and on this morning I was fully tuned in to that reality.

At that pre-dawn moment something would come like an arc of static electricity that jumps as one object slowly comes closer to another. In this case moisture was the conductor of charged electrons and protons and my skin would receive the shock.

It is important to note the skin is the largest of human organs, just for an appreciation of the scale of this event. This was no small localized event where my body was concerned.

Darkness and lack of knowledge had dropped me in this predicament, even if forgetting my raincoat was the greatest precursor. Truly it is amazing how sweaty a person can become while trying to walk slowly and carefully as possible. The slightest bit of overdress can lead to a good soaking.

Google Earth doesn’t map brambles, vines, wind-fallen trees, or the topography and depth of crunchy oak leaves. It won’t tell you where the briars will wrap around your legs or where some little stinking stupid limbs will repeatedly slap your face and grab at your eyeglasses.

Walking into the unknown, in the dark, with knowledge you might bust a deer with any step is an exercise that combines elements of Tai chi, yoga, Pilates and “umphasize” (yes, I made that up).

Umphasize must be included because the formal exercises involve technique, balance and executing moves in ways to avoid undue stress on the back, knees or other you-name-its. Umphasizing moves all must come by surprise and may include all angles and forms of ducking, bending, kneeling, ankle rolling, knee busting or any other version of getting-downing or twisting-rounding that requires an involuntary “umph” to straighten things out again.

Given the inevitable unknowns of the darkness and the expected umphs, I’d left the truck at 4:15 a.m. to get in position well before legal shooting hours at 6:35 a.m. On the morning in question, it had taken me an hour and quarter to go 200 yards from camp as the crow flies.

My body had plum used up the not-so-rejuvenating hour and a half of sleep I had in the back of my SUV with my snoring, talking-in-his-sleep Labrador. A sip of something hot would have been great about a half hour before shooting light.

“Next time remember to bring your Thermos too, bonehead.”

The idea was to find a position between some open fields and likely bedding areas and intercept deer on their way back into the timber at daylight. No stand, no ground blind, just “squirrel hunting style,” I would call it; good old fashioned grab-a-tree or sit-a-stump with some cover and still-hunt, hunting.

Even with the sun blocked by a blanket of gray and mist flowing horizontally on the wind my eyes gained some greater sense of the landscape as the clock rolled past 6 a.m. I dared to uncap my binoculars and cup them with my hands to keep the mist at bay as I enjoyed the manufacturers’ promised “light-gathering” view. Maybe I would find dark ghostly shapes of deer that might soon become targets.

It was a welcome distraction from that spark that would first strike just below my neckline, top of my spine, and radiate to my toes with the next gust of 16-mph wind.

Cold, wind-driven moisture from the outside was soaking in and warm sweaty moisture trapped inside was working it’s way out. When the two met my skin felt an effect similar to what a poorly insulated window must feel when touched by Jack Frost.

Silently I gripped the binoculars a bit tighter, my teeth clenched, and the surface of my skin tingled with life, like a kid enjoying the thrill of a rollercoaster’s first drop.

Oooo-wheeeee! That was chilly.

My inner voice reminded me of the joy of life.

“Thank you lord for every day is a great day to feel alive in the woods. I am thankful for that. I am thankful for the morning and this opportunity.”

And I advised myself in a voice audible only to my own ears.

“And be thankful it’s not any colder out here than it is—you bonehead.”