Hunting Archery Duck Deer

Deer hunters and duck hunters face the end of the season. Being confined to a season is the thing that really separates hunting and fishing in these parts.

The last day of hunting season always brings with it a flood of different feelings and emotions. We all feel something.

Last day, the season didn’t turn out like I planned. I thought for sure that it would be good this year and I’d finally get the buck I dreamed of. It didn’t happen and now it’s over and my wall is still empty. It’s a long time until November.

Last day, the season was so much better than I expected. I killed more ducks than any of my friends and they’re all jealous. I wish it could go on forever but now it’s over. And now I worry that I won’t ever see another season like it. All I’ll be able to do is look at the photos and remember “The Year.”

Last day, thank God, because I’m tired. It’s been a long, hard season and I’ve had about all of the fun I can stand. I’d have given it up sometime about Jan. 15, but I didn’t and I don’t know why.

I kept going even though I was tired. I kept going even though I wasn’t having any luck. And as tired as I am, I’d go tomorrow if the law allowed it.

Last day, and I just don’t know what I’m going to do with myself. This is what I love. This is what fills me up. It gives me a reason to get through work on days when it bores me to tears. It gives me something to look forward to. It’s bad enough to lose for another nine or 10 months the thing that I love, but losing that bounce in my step hurts even more.

Last day, and I really don’t want the fun to end. It’s just been good this year, not so successful, but good. Everybody got along, not the usual backbiting. It would be nice to think the harmony would simply resume next year but it won’t. Members will change and circumstances will change and it just won’t be the same. This kind of chemistry is temporary.

Last day, and I’ll never see these woods again. I’ll be back next year but all of these trees will be stumps. They’re coming to turn them into cardboard boxes, newspapers, books and reams of printer paper. When I was a boy, they’d cut some and leave some and eventually the woods would heal. Now they just leave stumps and I won’t live long enough to see it become pretty and open like it is now. It’s their timber and they’ve got the right, but it still hurts.

Last day, and I’ll never hunt with my buddy again, not like we have. He’s moving and he’s not coming back, not even in retirement. He’s not from around here. Sure, he’ll spend a weekend or so with me every year and I’ll go to his new place. But we’ll grow apart and get too busy to visit and that will be it. For 10 years we’ve shared sardines and cheese at lunch and beers after the hunt. I’ll miss it.

Last day, and this old dog has retrieved her last duck. If she makes it to next season, she’ll just be a pet. My wife is already mad about me taking her this year. When we came home after that really good day, she was so tied all she could do was flop down on the rug in front of the fireplace and shiver. My wife sat and held her head and looked like she wanted to cry. The new pup is coming along fine but it’s going to tear my heart out when I walk out of the house next season and the old girl stays behind with my wife.

Last day, but I’m coming back soon. The club has lots of briars and I’ve got friends with beagles. We’ll chase rabbits all day and have plenty of fun. But the club always looks a little different in February, sort of abandoned and lifeless. It gives me a strange feeling to be there after the season ends.

Last day, and I’m going to dust off my over-and-under and shoot clay targets. I’ve enjoyed the hunting season but it’s over and now it’s time to load some target shells and put away the camouflage. I’m looking forward to seeing the guys at the skeet range. They’ve all been hunting, too, and we can catch up. We’ll all be rusty, so it’s like starting over and who couldn’t use a fresh start every year.

Last day, and I’ll be fishing next weekend. It’s still a little cold but the February bite can be really good, especially on those unexpectedly pretty days. Just before it rains, it’ll warm up and be sunny.

Last day, and I won’t be hunting with this bunch next year. They wouldn’t find happiness in Heaven. It’s a great place and I’ve taken lots of game, but good Lord, the people make hunting here absolute misery. I hate looking for another place and the next might not offer hunting this good for this money. But it’ll be worth it to get away from these guys.

Last day, and I’ve got so much to do at home and at work that I won’t come up for air until April. The leaves are piled up three inches thick at home and the yard looks like hell. I still haven’t put together my kids’ Christmas presents and my wife has a honey-do list a mile long. She’s getting impatient. I have only enough vacation days left to take a week with my family this summer. I’m lucky to still have a family and a job.

Last day, and the meat is in the freezer. I’ll eat it until next November and enjoy every bit of it. Grilling tenderloin is sort of like paying a little visit to hunting season. You can see it, smell it, taste it and relish it. I have friends who never ate game until they met me. Now they look forward to our “wild” dinners.

Last day, I’ve been looking for it for decades and finally got it. It’s headed for the taxidermist. Looking at it after I shot it, it was hard to believe. It will look nice on my wall. But I’m not sure what I’m looking for now. I got a trophy but did I lose a purpose?

Last day, and now I’ve got to look for another lease. I’ve been hunting here since I was a kid but not any more. This place will be a commercial hunting operation and somebody will pay $500 a day to sit in my blind. Funny thing, we’ve been leasing this place so long we forgot that we didn’t own it. We’ve had free run of it, coming and going as we pleased, putting shooting houses, stands and blinds wherever we wanted, fixing the road and even cutting a little firewood. Now the “No Trespassing” sign means us, too.

Last day, and I won’t be hunting with a little boy next year. At 16, he’ll still be a kid. But he’ll have to pass the hunter education exam and buy a hunting license. He’ll have a driver’s license and won’t be entirely dependent on me. Ever since I gave him the single-barrel .410 and took him squirrel hunting, we’ve spent every weekend together. He couldn’t go without me. Next year, he’ll be able to go pretty much wherever he pleases. I hope he doesn’t forget me.

Last day, will I ever hunt again? I used to think that another season always followed this season. Back when I was young and indestructible it was like I thought I was entitled to another hunting season. Now it gets harder and harder to go, and without my friends, I really couldn’t. I’ve come to realize it’s a privilege, a gift from God, not an entitlement. Will I be physically able to hunt next year? Will I still be walking this earth? I don’t know.

I guess none of us do.

Reach Robert DeWitt at robert.dewitt@tuscaloosanews. com or at 205-722-0203 or 866-400-8477, ext. 203

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