Jaker's 8

-9 degrees Celsius, (or a balmy 15 degrees Fahrenheit for our friends south of the border). Either way that’s what the digital thermometer read on the truck as we pulled into the 2-acre plot. The boys sat in silence as I turned the Rebel towards the blind and put ‘er into park. 

“What’dya think?” Jake asked, just as Schned was turning his head towards us.

“I’ll sit wherever, buddy,” Schned replied. 

It was early December; the muzzleloader season had just kicked in, and there hadn’t been much action. In fact, the lack of action rivalled the Pats and Rams 2019 Super Bowl game. We were determined, however, to make a second-half play work to our favor. My gut said to stay put and continue hunting on the opposite end of the farm. Not that it mattered much, as I brought along the camera and not a gun—so I was happy to hunt with any one of the guys, anywhere. Either way, I felt confident in our approach to hunting the same areas—and it would pay off soon. 

“My guess is he will show up here or where I’m heading—so I’ll leave it to you two to decide.” “I’m going to head east, over by the old dump again. You want to join me, Schneder?” I asked.

Just like that, Jake nodded and Schned agreed. A couple of fist bumps and a “shoot him as hard as you can” good luck phrase—borrowed from our good buddy JakeHopper—and we were on our way.

There is something about hopping into a favorite and familiar spot. These spots are seldom “reserved,” but “ready” to be hunted. Easy in, easy out. A kind of confidence that can’t be measured quantitatively, only qualitatively. These are my favorite spots. We used to turkey hunt a property just like that. You may not see ‘em when you park at the dead end or strike one as you walk in, but it was one of those spots I’d bet my last dollar to get the job done and come out with a longbeard.

I felt it vibrating on the inside of my coat pocket. At At precisely 3:30, my iPhone screen displayed Jake's name. My initial thought was that he was calling about a game warden or trespasser on the farm. Boy was I wrong. He had spotted our target deer on the edge of the plot! The reason for his call, as he would point out, was for verification. This is the latest form of redneck 2FA. “My grandpa would be shaking his head,” I chuckled to myself as I whipped open my Reveal app and “approved” the identity of Snickers, a nice 8-point we had named earlier in the year.

With Jake on speaker, Schned and I felt as though we were right there with him in the blind. We kept refreshing the app to see if the dark-horned deer would turn sufficiently for a better shot angle. He was about 80-90 yards from the tower, facing dead straight away, in the wrong direction. We kept looking at one another, muttering, “Any minute now.” Time stood still as we kept on watching and listening, listening and watching. Finally, it looked as though the buck was moving into a spot that would allow our anxious deer hunter a window of opportunity. As we held our breath in anticipation, the silence on the other end of the line suddenly broke; KA-BOOM! Schned and I immediately lifted our heads and listened for the sound to make its way to us through the air. We laughed as it took a few seconds to reach us—we were, after all, approximately a mile away. Before Jake could say a word, we hopped in the truck and made our way around to him. 

The closer we got to the edge of the timber, the more nervous Jake got. Recalling the shot in his head and repeating what he last saw: “a lot of smoke and him taking off with his tail up” as he weaved through the mixture of hard and softwood trees standing in his way. He continued scanning, but no deer in sight. I had no more than placed my left foot on the ground after crossing the split cedar rail fence and spotted that oh-so-familiar image: a big white belly, tan hide, and a partial antler. Our good friend let out a sigh of relief, and we all enjoyed a moment together before walking down to check out the buck we had been chasing. 

I can’t speak for the guys, but I’m sure they were thinking the same thing as me. Being present. Another hunt, and another memory that will live on. Hunting has a strange way of doing that—it slows us down, and it grounds us. It connects us, draws us closer to creation and Our Creator. It’s a reminder to be in the moment as often as you can. Like a lot times spent in the woods with these guys, this hunt is one we’ll be reminded about, again and again.