20 Feet Up
By: Jacob Stoner
Tags: Deer, Hunting, Outdoors

“Beep, beep, beep” my alarm clock blares. I roll over out of bed still partially asleep. I begin throwing on layers of clothes. After bundling up I head downstairs. My house is completely dead. Everyone is still asleep and will be for some time to come. There is something peaceful about being only one awake. I feel as if I am the only one in the world. I open the door to leave. The freezing air pelts me directly in the face. I run to my truck and throw on the heat, nothing but cold air hits me while I wait for my truck to warm up. Left turn out of the driveway, right turn onto highway 81, left turn onto highway 6, right turn on road 20, left turn at the dead-end sign. I have made this drive 100 times. I’ve done it in the dark, in the snow, in the rain, every kind of weather imaginable. No matter how many times I make that drive, I will always feel that same nervous anticipation that brings me back time after time. I pull up to the dead-end sign and shut the truck off. Grab my gear and start the long hike in the pitch dark. I hop the fence and get on the trail, worn down by my foot traffic. After a 400 yard walk through an empty pasture, I hop another fence and head down a row of corn. I try my best to be as quiet as possible, but the crunchy dry stalks of the corn make it nearly impossible. After another 100 yards in the corn, I come to an opening. Hay bays are scattered throughout the clearing on my left. On my right sits thick trees. I walk another 20 yards along the edge of the clearing to my tree. When I reach the base of that old maple tree, I begin my ascent. Twisting back and forth I make my way up the tree. About twenty or so feet up I step out onto the sturdy platform of my tree stand. My next step consists of hauling up my bow using a rope attached to my stand.

“Crunch…crunch, crunch” my heart races with the sound of leaves crunching. Is it just another squirrel? A rabbit maybe? I see a streak of brown fur through the trees. By this time my breathing becomes deep and raspy. I strain to see what it is while making sure to make absolutely no noise. The figure steps into an opening in the trees. I scan the creature up and down my eyes lock on the chandelier of antlers sitting atop its head. My hands being shaking as I view the most prized North American game animal, a trophy whitetail deer. Not just any buck either, but one that would make even non-hunters gasp in awe. I slowly reach for my bow blindly because I refuse to break my stare off the giant. I fear that if I look away he will disappear forever. He slowly works towards me. Suddenly, his mood changes, he sniffs the air and stomps his foot. He knows something is a little off. It’s as if he can sense my presence. I pray that he’s mood changes and he returns to his normal state of calmness. He drops his head and begins grazing again. His thick brown coat stands out sharply against the snowy background. Thousands of different shot scenarios race through my head. I desperately attempt to calm myself down. My hands shake so bad I’m not sure I can make the shot. The buck is steadily approaching me. I worry he can hear my heart beating. I realize I’m going to have to shift slightly to make a shot. With the utmost stealth, I attempt to rotate in the tree. I move a millimeter at a time. Despite my caution, the buck catches a glance of me. He stares me dead in the eyes. This stalemate goes on for what feels like an eternity. I am now certain he can hear my heart racing. And just like the take he is gone. His whitetail mocks me as he runs away. My entire body aches, I doubt I’ll ever see another buck of his caliber. I sit there in the tree in a state of depression. I sit for another couple of hours praying that maybe the buck will return. He does not. It takes everything I’ve got to make the long hike back to the truck. However, there is no question in my mind as to whether or not I will be in the woods the next day. Hunters are eternal optimists, we always believe that tomorrow could be the day.