The perfect hunt is the hunt you're on

By Jessie Veeder Scofield

Welcome to hunting season. Well, bow hunting season to start it off. And if you’re like me you’ve lost your husband or your wife for the evenings from now until, well, I don’t know, 2021?   

And unlike me, my husband is a patient, patient man, so bow hunting is a natural fit, requiring a lot of quiet and sneaking and waiting and analyzing animal patterns in the unpredictable fall weather. But we all get particularly enthused for opening weekend because we’re fortunate enough to live in a beautiful wildlife habitat that is home to deer and elk who eat our alfalfa and water in the stock dams year round, meaning that when it’s time for my husband to grab his bow and camo, he already has a plan of where to sit and sneak and wait and analyze.

And my husband develops his own patterns during this time of year too: Hello family…goodbye family…goodnight family…

But every once in a while, when I can swing it, I like to go along too. I was raised out here walking behind my dad’s snowy footprints, holding my breath as he handed me his binoculars on the hilltop, sliding down beaver runs, trying to stay quiet and falling in love with the mysteries of the hour before sundown, the witching hour, when the wild things show themselves.  

And I’ve done a little hunting myself with a rifle, but in the years I’ve spent quietly following the men in my life it has become less about the trophy and more about the crisp air on our cheeks, the smell of the sagebrush and becoming a silent observer, treading lightly on the earth. Because in those moments, if you do it right, you really see it. When you are forced to be unbelievably still  (either by free will, or because your husband continues to calmly “shush” you) and when your state is unobstructed by cell phones dinging, The Bachelor on television, or the never ending pile of laundry, you give yourself a gift really.

While you focus on the quiet part, you notice how the hawks circle, you spot a porcupine perched in a tree, you can hear the bumble bees swarming in a nearby patch of fall flowers, just hanging on tight to life before the winter sets in. When you’re paying attention to silence, you are also, thankfully, paying attention enough to avoid sitting on a cactus while you listen to the wind in the trees, and… oh look at those beautiful red fall leaves, and the geese, and the way the sun is setting, giving way to the moon…

And if you’re me, you brought your camera…

 …beep, beep, click…

Shhhhh…..

Oh, yeah. We’re hunting deer here…
 

When you remain completely still you notice how the deer graze in the open spots and move and bed down and spook at the slightest crack or pop of a twig or, you know…beep, beep, click.

Ooops. Oh deer…

In my defense, I’m not always a total distraction, and really, shouldn’t there be a silent mode on these cameras? Also, at least I wasn’t wearing my swishy pants this time. Learned that lesson after a few dozen miles finding a way to walk without my legs touching….

Anyway, these days, for me, capturing our wild world on camera is as thrilling for me as making the kill. And so I know how to keep it together enough to get close to some really beautiful creatures, including a few wild elk in the draw, animals that have a knack for reminding me how small we really are out here in these badlands.

But sometimes your stomach growls because you didn’t eat breakfast and you drank too much coffee…and sometimes you sneeze at the most inopportune time, sometimes that cell phone in your pocket rings, sometimes you ask too many questions, sometimes the wind is all wrong, or it’s all just perfect but you miss, and sometimes you don’t even get the shot, and sometimes you get distracted by a broken fence and the cows in the neighbors’ and sometimes your camera’s too loud and you wear swishy pants…

And in all my years of going along, trailing behind, I’m fortunate enough to have learned that in the end it doesn’t really matter. The perfect hunt for us has always been the hunt we’re on.

I was reminded again of the character of the sport when the sun started dropping behind the horizon and we headed toward home. I apologized for my unwelcome sound effects, but my husband just kept his eyes on the horizon and said, “I’m just glad you came with me. I am glad to have you here”

Happy hunting from the ranch. May you keep your patience and the beauty of the season in your sites.