Huntress

by C. Damon –

It started with trees. From a very young age I climbed trees, all by myself, almost daily. On our farm there is a crick quite near the barn that was my favorite climbing spot. The willows beckoned me with low, fat branches, and I would climb as high as possible. I would settle in a comfortable perch, take out the snack I packed for myself, and wait. I found out early on that if you became very still, you would see a wealth of wildlife. I almost had a heart attack one day as I was scolded by the chuttering antics of a red squirrel. All I could imagine was that some kind of very angry bird was after me (I didn’t know it was HIS tree!).

I grew up living and working on our family-owned dairy, driving tractors, milking cows, and raising calves. To say that I loved this version of “living off the land” was an understatement. The taste of raw milk, our own beef, and the largesse of our huge garden sustained us all in many ways, never to be forgotten.

Fast forward years later and I found myself yearning for the trees again, this time for a different reason. I was married to an avid bow hunter, and I thought I could climb trees to look for deer. This led to the idea of providing my family with meat myself. I went to the DEC Days in Avon that fall and tried out and purchased a compound bow. I took my bow hunting course, and then practiced archery for the next year at the Avon Bowmen Archery Club range. I wanted to be sure I was proficient at taking down a deer. I was 46 years old when I took my first deer, and have been hunting ever since.     

What I love most about bow hunting is the solitude, the quietness, becoming part of nature. Most hunts do not result in an opportunity to harvest a deer, but I always see something enthralling. I watched a barred owl hunt for about an hour one evening, not 10 yards from my treestand. I’ve heard the cacophony of a yipping coyote pack not far from my stand, followed by one long, low, deep howl and then …absolute silence. A male ring-necked pheasant stepped from cover rustling the frost-killed grasses and shimmered in the sun like a new copper penny. I’ve enjoyed innumerable sunrises and sunsets, swirling showers of fall leaves, frost covered fields sparkling in early morning sunshine. The list goes on. 

All of this coupled with the satisfaction of a well-placed arrow, the respect and gratitude for the animal’s life, and filling the freezer with venison for my family makes bowhunting a meaningful experience for me.

And yes, those trees … I think I hear one calling my name.